Hunted: Harry Styles Fan Fiction

Harry

Suffocating my hope of escape.

I wandered around aimlessly, heading mostly toward the moon, or at least what seemed to be, but I never seemed to make any progress. It was almost as if I was stuck, every motion still pending as if the message couldn’t quite reach the muscles. It was endless. Part of me wanted to find a new path to follow, in the hopes that it might lead to a quicker end, but my heart told me to go where I was already headed. I walked on with my feet beginning to ache. How long had I been walking? I was tired, but I walked on. Finally, it seemed as if I was making a difference. I was finally starting to reach that little patch of light in the sky.

I walked on.

A breeze blew, light and misty onto my face. It seemed to whisper, forming words that I couldn’t make out. Maybe it wasn’t the breeze, and instead there actually was someone here with me. I stopped walking for a moment and looked around.

“Hello?” My voice rang into the blackness and seeming to echo on and on. I waited as the sound died down to become nothing but still silence once more. There was no answer. The wind blew again, harder this time, and my cheeks began to sting. Placing my hand against the sore skin, I started walking again toward the solitary light in the sky. Then the sounds came again. More words assaulted my ears. I strained hard trying to understand them.

“Harry.” The sounds were long, drawn out, and held barely above a whisper. The acknowledgement of my name set me on edge, and every hair on my body stood on end. Beginning to get freaked out, I started to jog lightly. My fear got the better of me until I was running, sprinting trying to reach the light.

“Wake up, you little shit!” I was yanked from my sleep by a pen light being shined in my eye, a hard slap to the face, and Kate’s voice whisper-yelling in my right ear. I jumped, and immediately sat straight up, smashing my forehead into hers.

“Are you insane?” The words tumbled from my still drowsy mouth in the near darkness of the truck.

“Yes, actually,” she responded with an irritated tone. “Now get up, we’re almost there.” She stepped back from the box where I had been sleeping and sat back onto her own after shutting the lid that I’d failed to see was open before.

“Where’d you get that pen light?” Kate said nothing, but simply stood up and reopened her box. Inside there were rows upon rows of small tools. Upon further inspection, it became clear that the tools were organized, and grouped based on their main usage. There were scalpels, sets of tiny fabric sheers, and finally, the pen lights. “Oh.”

“I didn’t realize that you were asleep earlier and that I was talking to myself when I said that we should look through some of the boxes,” Kate said eventually. “I was hoping to find-“ she started, and abruptly stopped. I immediately became aware that the truck was slowing down. “Get inside a box and don’t make a sound,” Kate instructed, with her voice a low whisper. I stood up, pulled the lid off the box I’d been sitting on, and furiously shoved supplies to one end so that I would fit inside. Once I finished, I lowered myself inside surrounded by sounds of crinkling plastic wrap.

“Ready?” I heard Kate’s wisp of a voice call from across the bed of the truck before I pulled the lid shut.

“Ready,” I responded. The penlight clicked off, and we were engulfed by darkness once again. The truck’s brakes squealed loudly next to my ear, and the lumbering metal box came to a halt. “I thought you said they didn’t check the trucks,” I called over to Kate in a low voice.

“They’re not checking it, Harry,” she answered, her voice almost inaudible until the loud grumbling of the engine stopped. “We’re at CBRS.” My blood turned to ice. Now was do or die. There wasn’t any quitting now.