Hunted: Harry Styles Fan Fiction

Kate

I was momentarily relieved to see the light, only realizing that I was trapped inside some kind of glass when the smoke started to build up. I threw myself onto the ground, trying to get as much oxygen. The fire from the burning tree started to spread around inside the dome. I gasped, sucking in nothing but the grey of the haze.  My senses were being blocked out, one by one, being stolen by the grey stink. I crawled along the ground, through sparse grasses, and looked for a way out. Anything at all would've been better than this. 

I started to feel light headed. I was being taken down by the lack of oxygen, and I was most certainly going to die. I took a big breath, and tried to hold it. I coughed, choking on smoke. I inched along, and bumped into a pole. 

A phone. 

I reached up, pulling the receiver down to my ear, and waiting for a dial tone. I pushed the buttons to what I thought was Harry's number, but it was hard to tell through the thickness of the smoke. I counted the rings waiting, hoping, praying for him to answer. 

One, two. 

I started to panic, which is something I had been struggling very hard not to do. I didn’t want my breaths to start coming in gasps because I didn’t have much breathable air left to work with.

Three, four.

My thoughts raced in my mind. Was he going to pick up? What was I going to do if he didn’t? Harry was my only chance of survival. I was using up the last bits of my life silently pleading with him to answer.

Five, six.        

I was perplexed that the phone kept ringing after the fifth tone. Calls usually only had five until they would connect to voicemail. An uneasy feeling settled into my stomach. What if he did answer? What good would it do? I wouldn’t be able to say anything without choking violently on the smoke, and I wasn’t sure anymore how much air there was that I could breathe. There was no way I could survive this.

Seven, eight.

As the rings came and went, everything seemed like it was starting to drag on for hours. I felt the time in my little world slowing down, each and every second feeling like individual hours passing. How long had it been since I’d had a deep breath?

Nine, ten.

My lungs were screaming at me to inhale. I could hardly hold my breath any longer. I held the last bit of air as long as I could, until my lungs felt like they would explode, taking the rest of me with them. I gasped for air, but there was none for me to use. The last of my reserves was gone, and there was nothing I could do was stop, and pray that death would take me quickly. I wished I could’ve screamed out, but all my internal fears were now trapped inside, locked in by the lack of air. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I felt my hands subconsciously fly to my neck, grabbing and tearing at the skin trying desperately to get death to come faster. I felt my vision dimming, as if it getting any worse could actually be possible. My head rolled back, and I finally dropped the receiver, the phone still ringing again and again.

***

I awoke with a start, jerking forward out of sleep from where I laid next to Harry. I sat up quickly, gasping for breath and reaching a hand gently to my throat. My back ached from sleeping on the floor, but Harry seemed to be having a fine time, his breathing still light and consistent. I watched him sleep for a moment, wondering what he was dreaming about. From the windows in front of me, I waited while the sun rose above the horizon, finally casting warm rays of light through the panes.

I heard Harry groan for a moment, before turning over and going back to sleep. My stomach growled, so I stood up slowly from the floor, my body still stiff, and wandered over into the kitchen. Searching through the fridge, I found leftovers that were barely recognizable as Chinese because of all of the mold. Jumping back in disgust, I nearly spilled the container all over the floor before I could throw it away. I decided that maybe going to the cupboard was a better, and probably safer, alternative.