Zodiac 》Harry Styles

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The most beautiful death is the death of a beautiful women. Very strong quote don't you agree, do you believe that every women in the entire world should die? All women are beautiful, they all grasp a magnificent glow in their untainted souls which no matter what hangs onto a thread of innocence that would never unravel. Deep into their eyes there lies thoughts of lust but love, distance but desire. Women create a complicated mesh of not only a vast amount of infatuation laced with hope but traces of a lovely disaster. Causing their deaths to leave an extravagant massacre that can only be seen by the eyes of the beholder, the artist.

~ Zodiac

Tdeha si a liufauebt ghitn tond eb faiard (A/N:try and figure out :)

Rose's POV

I slowly peel the blankets from around my waist. The bright sun rays shone through the narrow spaces between my cherry red curtains. Casting a glow on my black carpet seemed like new daily routine, ever since I moved from Massachusetts to sunny California to live with my father.

But he thought me becoming a "young lady" and need my personal space. Together we picked out a small apartment down the street from his house for me. I stand up from my bed, stretching my arms in the air while releasing a small yawn. The temptations to curl back into my duvet and fall helplessly back through the soft meadows of my limitless dreams. But instead I'm standing in the middle of my room being struck by harsh lightning strikes of reality.

I walk over to my dresser grabbing my laptop and sit back on my bed. One thing I really want to do is write a book. A book that can grasp ahold of the readers emotions, making their stomachs churn with anticipation, excitement but hints of fear. Terrified, dreading the next sentence bound to come.

But sadly, all my inspiration had gone down the drain. Leaving me trapped in a writers block that fails to depart my jumbling mind.

I sit there thinking about what I should write about. Running my fingers across the glowing keyboard I start to type.

Clear as the day of dawn I stand here doubting my numerous licks of hope swimming throughout my thoughts. Peering around the corner of the bustling street I-

I sigh, rubbing my forehead out of frustration. I don't even know where I'm leading this to. I give up, saving my work before pushing my laptop aside to stand back up trudging to my bookshelf.

I traced my pointer finger over each book, reading out the titles finding the one book I've been reading for the past week. 'Confessions Of A Murder Suspect'

Reading puts me into a trance of running away from my life and jumping right into the characters. I wish my writing was like that. After flipping through pages. For what seems like two minutes turned into ten. All my attention was driven into the book, the anticipation was heightening. Between the suspicion if Mathew's feuds between his parents to the feeling of sympathy to the bewildered, confused and hurt Harrison.

All of my attention towards the book was soon cut short when a loud crash came from my kitchen. This sound was highly unusual considering I live in an apartment building, but after all the murders spreading through this town. You can't be too sure. Closing my book, resting in on my bed and reaching over to grab my weapon. A present from my father that I've never actually used before, but might come in handy today a machete.

Holding the rather large blade in my hand I come to realize this whole thing might be utterly foolish of me to grasp such a tool. This could merely be a rodent scurrying along the floor. Crossing my fingers I hope it's not that, I'm not the best when it comes to.. Pests.

Settling down my uneasy breaths, I make my way to the door. Keeping the machete, you know just to be safe. Peeking my head out of the warmth of my room, soon entering a chilly hallway leading down the stairs to the noise which was now lulled in a way.

Not a footstep, a whisper, nor another sound was heard. Either the intruder acknowledged my presence or there was nothing too rash in my kitchen in the first place.

Keeping the blasted weapon at my side when all my shaky nerves subsided and walked down the couple of steps. This is the time where I'm hauled by the neck and it brought into a room somewhere in my house I never knew existed.

Another crash was heard causing me to jump practically two feet in the air, dropping the machete with a loud clink. A few murmurs were sprouting from the room, picking the machete off from the floor when the sounds started to get louder. Bewilderment started to corse through me as I heard a familiar tune escape the lips of the intruder, was this person attempting to sing?

NEW UPDATE SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO, I WAS JUST VERY BUSY. KEEP READING TO FIND OUT MORE, ATTEMPT TO FIGURE OUT CODES AND KEEP THE MURDERS IN MIND OH AND DONT FORGET ABOUT MR.CAGE ;)

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