Misunderstood Mayhem

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Harry skims the knife against the skin of my cheek as I am pressed against a cold, metal wall of some basement. His eyes were gleaming with joy as his lips curled up into a devilish smile. His dimples soften his psychotic look in the oddest of ways. My heart was thumping and I dared not to shed a tear in front of him. Because that’s what he wants to see and hear: me crying and begging for mercy.

            “You’re so,” Harry halts his large hand from skimming the knife, “gorgeous.”

I stare into his deep emerald eyes and inhale sharply from my nose. His hand, which grasps the knife, guides the blade to the center of my neck then slowly brushes the tip of it down to my chest, torso and ends at my belly button.

            As this action takes place, his eyes don’t break contact with mine…nor do mine with his. While staring into my eyes, I can tell he is trying to decipher what I’m thinking and feeling. I bet he’s wondering why I’m not screaming in terror.

            “Are you not afraid?” his hot breath caressed my face.

I tried to answer without having my voice quiver, “No.” I am beyond afraid. The towns most wanted criminal has me hostage. Will he skin me alive like the other girls?

My mind gets the best of me. I am known best for using reverse psychology and figuring people out. My dad, who is the head cop of the squad, taught me to never show fear and be cautious in what you say. You most certainly do not want to upset your “enemy”.

            Harry’s plump lips part from one another, a bit taken aback from my response. He slowly pulls his eyebrows together in confusion. I shifted my sight to the crease forming between his brows. My hands slowly reach up to his well sculpted face.

I step closer towards him, having the knife pinch my skin. I slightly gasp, causing Harry to quickly remove the blade. Seems like he doesn’t want to hurt me. My thumbs run over his thick eyebrows, indicating for him to not pull his eyebrows together. As soon as the tips of my thumbs reach the end of his brows, the crease between his eyebrows disappear.

            I continue my answer from before, “No. I’m not afraid.” I’m close enough to his body to smell vanilla scent radiating off his blouse.


            “Because. I know this isn’t who you are.”

            A flashback takes place as I remember sneaking into my father’s office to view Harry Styles’ criminal records. He was a bright young student who used to attend the same high school as me. He was even in my psychology class one year. He was always kept to himself and spent most of his time in the school library. We would hold eye contact each time I would take out book from my locker. Occasionally, I would give him a small smile. He dropped out of high school unexpectedly

I remember entering my father’s office and skimming my eyes over the files of Harry. Soaking in as much information as I could before I got caught, the secretary of the department walks in.

            “You got to be a bit more discreet when breaking in.”

My mouth went dry as I watch Lindsey smile down at me. “I wasn’t breaking in—”

            “Save it, kid. Now get out before we both get in trouble.” She shakes her head.

Packing the files away, I speak up, “Hey, Lindsey?”

            She turns my way from the door.

“D-did you know Harry went to my school?”

            She slowly shuts the brown door and draws the blinds, “So that’s who you’ve been obsessing over,” She sits down in a grey chair in front of my dad’s desk, “yeah, kid, I knew he attended your school. It’s a shame isn’t it?”

“Shame?” I ask quizzically.

            She nods, “Yes, shame. Shame to have such a good looking and smart boy such as Harry turn into some psychotic killer.”

I look down at the files in my hand and notice a picture of Harry smiling. “He looks like an angel though…”

            Lindsey scoffs, “Looks can be deceiving, babe. Even the sweetest of angels have their hidden hell horns.”

The flashback ends and I find myself looking up at Harry who seems to be confused as to what is taking place.

            “Harry,” my voice squeaks, “what are you doing?”

Silence fills the room as Harry swallows hard.

            My hands slide down his arms and reach down to his hands. I look down to view the knife in his right hand. I remove it ever so slowly from his grip, hoping Harry lets me take it away from him. And he does.

            I toss the knife to the ground and tangle my fingers with his slender fingers. Looking back up, I see tears forming in his large eyes.

“No, no.” I whisper and pull him into a hug. He leans down to bury his face into the crook of my neck. He must be misunderstood. He needs help. He needs someone to talk to and to be with. And I know that person is me.

            I rub the back of his neck with my right hand as his arms wrap around me tightly. As he sobs, I turn my face a bit to place a peck on the side of his face.

The quiet moment is interrupted by a large bang and heavy footsteps of police officers rushing in.

            “Freeze! Don’t move!” my dad’s booming voice echoes within the basement.

Harry and I part. As soon as my body is revealed to the squad, low mutters of curse words are said. My dad begins to yell, “Get away from him! Now!”

            “Dad,” I move Harry against the wall and stand between him and the officers, “dad, please wait!”

            “Move, now!” Dad exclaims then shoots bullets to the flooring, causing me to jump out of my skin. I face Harry and see his facial expressions turn blank. His hands slowly raise up and I move away from him.


Watching Harry get handcuffed and placed in the car was so heart breaking. From within the car, I notice him staring at me with sorrowful eyes. I could have helped him I thought harshly I could have changed him.

            The police car engine turns on and away it went, distancing the misunderstood mayhem far from me.

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