When Our Love Was a Lie [Harry Styles Fan Fiction]

[ THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT AND VIOLENCE. READ IN CAUTION] 

Who knew. I'd met the love of my life at a Lamppost. But who knew that love of my life. Ruined it the most.

I'm Scarlett James Riley.

I was a regular girl living in New York going to NYU living my life like a normal girl. I'm eighteen going to be nineteen on December 27th. I have two brothers Noah and Morgan. Idiots I call them, they are three years older than me. I was always happy, never sad, and cared about the people I love. Until one day, something happened. 

My mother died living a secret life I didn't know about. My brothers tried killing me because they're selfish and only care about them self's and for my dad, he was a murderer. Killing so many people and getting away with it. Growing up I never knew that any of this would have happened, I never thought it could happen.

The room was dark and gloomy as I felt my bare feet slowly place themselves onto the cold rock hard floor. I tried moving my hands but they were tied to the wooden chair I was sitting in. I tried yelling but it came out with was muffed sound, because of the cloth that kept me quiet. The room was small, nothing but the cold wisps of air came in and the men that kept me here. 

I looked down at my body only to leave with my dirty thighs with a bit of dried blood on them from all the hits I had to take from them. When I came to meet him I was wearing a pink blouse with lace at the sides. But now it's covered in dirt, mud, and blood. Same with my favorite pair of white shorts but those could never be back to the same form they were in before.

I felt warm tears slowly glide down my cheeks thinking about everything all at once, thinking about how I used to be. I sniffed and told myself that I can be stronger and get over this but I knew I was lying to myself. I thought about how long I've been here or where ever I am right now and if anyone missed me. I frowned thinking about my friends again.

I felt numb, not feeling anything anymore but pain. I wondered if anyone was looking for me. Probably not. I don't think anyone would want to see me after what happened the last time. 

I thought of many different ways of getting out of here but they all have seemed to fail at some point. I tried dragging my chair across the room to find something to get me out but nothing worked. The room was a box with one staircase that could have been my escape but first I needed to get out of the chair and that was impossible. I signed, knowing that I would be stuck here forever. I could hear people upstairs singing and dancing not knowing what was really happening just under their feet.

Sometimes I would hear someone close to the doorway where I was. But he would always be there with them making sure I would NEVER leave unless they got what they wanted. They asked me the same questions every time they went down to see me. But I never knew what they were talking about. I never know what they are talking about. 

I just wanted to die. I just wanted this to end. I didn't do anything wrong, it was them who had started it. But as always, they couldn't finish it. So I had to be the one to pick up the pieces 

They would try everything to get some kinda information out of me. But I have no idea what was going on or why I was even here. They cut my hands with thin sharp sliver knives and beat me with brass knuckles making me feel as much pain as I could so much that I soon didn't feel anything at all. I couldn't say much of anything anymore because I haven't had any food or water in so long.

All I wanted to, was die.

Then I heard those footsteps. They rang in my ears over and over again until they got closer and closer to the door. I prayed that it wasn't one of them. That it was someone looking for the washroom but got lost and found my door. But I knew that wasn't true because they wouldn't dare let them even let someone breathe near me. I heard them clearer as they got closer, the footsteps that made my life something it wasn't supposed to be. Everything in my life was pointless. It didn't have meaning anymore. 

Then I started thinking about my life before those footsteps came down the stairs. 

How it used to be.