Pleasure & Pain|| Harry Styles || h.s.

Addiction*

*Content warning*

The following mentioned instances might be disturbing and triggering to some individuals!

Preview:
“Who sent you here?”

“You really think I’ll tell you?” he mocked.

“You better do or I’ve got options.” I smiled with anger.

Now:

HARRY:

“Then go with the options.” He smiled, while I pulled my hair as frustration is at it's peak.

I turned around to see Niall holding Anne, her head on his chest, while she looked at me, with almost drowned eyes.

Her entire face shows how painful it was for her to face him.

The thought of that Bowie knife going any further to harm her just something I don’t want to think about.

As I turned back to look into his face, he’s bleeding from his head due to a hit, and nose looks broken too.

I’m sure the crotch hit would’ve been obvious.

It's her signature move!

That’s how she fought like a warrior for her life today.

 But the thought of him slapping her makes me insane, and before I can comprehend, my fist connects to his Jaw,  

His lip is busted as her's but way worse.

I pulled his hair back to add another one, making him bleed further.

After that, I couldn’t stop doing hitting this fucker.

He thinks he can harm her or any of my friends then he’s absolutely mistaken because I do anything for them.

Anything!

I slammed him again and again, out of control, until he’s lost in for air.

I grabbed the wire that caught my eye.

Now let’s feel how it is to choke on air and fight for life.

I wrapped the wire around his throat, making him throw his limbs involuntarily as he fought for an ounce of air.

As he was barely on verge of losing his body, I loosened the grip letting him gag.

Impatiently searching for something else to give him the taste of his own medicine, I saw the knife.

Now, let’s get the knife.

“Louis, bring the knife.” I asked Louis, he moved, kicking the man on the floor.

He handed the knife in my hand while I smiled at the man whose eyes went wide.

I think he knows what I can do to get my answers with that catalyst of knife in my hands.

I gave him a last stare warning, his face showing he won’t open his mouth but a fear across his beaten face.

I cut one of his fingers off while he cried on the floor, waiting for response.

Too disappointed he’s still on his words.

So am I.

I reached for another one and detached it within seconds, sprints of blood all over the floor.

“Tell me now.” I spoke through clenched jaw.

“I can’t.” he shook his head.

“Then better die.” I announced and moved his front side upwards.