Picture Perfect

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An: hello!! Yes I am alive, just. Sorry sorry sorry I have uploaded anything in any of my books in forever! I've had some issues, but I'm forcing myself to be motivated once again :) please don't hate me! Vote if you're active.



A picture fell before my eyes. A picture of cruelty and horror, passion and defence. But its only if you look closer do you actually begun to realise that's just the top layer, the layer broadcast over the world. For if you look closer you can see whats being hidden. And looking closer, into his dark, sleepless eyes, my view of the image changed. For now I saw a picture or shame and remorse, guilt and a scared soul. My only thoughts that flew past my mind at that moment were why.

"Do you know this man?"

Why hide how you truly feel about everything you've done?

I gulp thickly and nod.

Why torture yourself?

"Do you know his name?"

Why hide?

"His name?" My voice is weak and horse, as if a ball was trapped in my throat using all it power to keep my words down. I looked up from the picture to the police man sat before me. My hand met my forehead to shield my eyes from the harsh light thrown upon me.

"Yes, his name" the policeman repeated, breathing heavily through his nose like he'd just run a marathon.

"Harry styles" I say solemnly, a shiver creeping up my spine and down my arms, raising every hair.

The policeman nodded and slid the picture back to him.

"You were close?" He asked, carefully placing the photo in a transparent envelope and putting it aside before clasping his hands together in front of him and leaning forward.

Were? In my mind we still are.

"How will knowing that help you?" I state, piercing my lips together.

"It helps a great deal actually, so I'll ask you again. Were you and Mr Styles close?"

I hate show they addressed him Mr Styles because they obviously didn't think of him very highly, if anything they throw scorn upon him. I drew in a sharp breath and slowly let it out.

"How?" I ask, avoiding the question as I had yet to know the answer.

"How?" The policemen repeated. One eyebrow was raised and he leaned back in his chair.

"How does it help" I stated not as a question more an order.

He sighed and pulled out another picture. "This would be so much easier if you just co-operated" he told me before placing the picture down in front of us both. My heart stopped, then picked up speed to make up for the beats it missed. "Not what you were expecting?"

I shook my head, defiantly not.

The picture showed Harry's cell. But what shocked me the most was that I had been there less than 24 hours ago and none of that was there for sure. That was my name. My name written over every wall, floor and ceiling. New questions spiraled my mind;who? What? Where? When? Why?

How did he do this?

"So were you close?"

Why would he do this?

I nod

What drove him to do this.

"Thank you, at least we know he's delusional"

When did he do this? In less then 24 hours? Is that possible?

I move my eyes, and only my eyes, up to see the policeman, "we still are"

Where did he get the pens? Nothing is allowed in his cell in case of violent use or escape tactics. So where did the pens come from?

He looked at me, a mixture of sympathy and worry, confusion and humour spread across his face. "Excuse me?"

"We're still close, closer then ever actually" I say, admiring his face shift and twitch with emotions as I speak. "Now officer, would you mind telling me when these pictures were taken and where Harry was, and do you have any indication as to why he's done that"

The policeman was slightly shocked by my sudden ability to speak more than a few words and to be so straight forward, but nether the less he told me.

"We took them right before coming to your house, we were called in to see his cell as 'something was wrong', this isn't quite what we were expecting." I nodded, glad I was finally getting some insight and facts on this whole situation. "Mr Styles" I flinched "had been evacuated, with much difficulty I hear, to a different cell under severe surveillance. No one knows why he did it, no one saw him do it. But whatever the reasons, he didn't want to leave that cell"

I nodded and furrowed my eyes brows "why?"

He shrugged "something about not forgetting and keeping you safe" he leaned forwards again "were worried about you and your safety connected with Mr Styles. The cells of stalkers and lunatics have been similar to this and we don't want you coming to any harm"

I shook my head, they can't take him away from me. "I'm fine! I'll be fine"

"We need to make sure about that, so men have installed cameras in your house and you'll have weekly check ups, also you van not see him under any circumstances"

No no no no no!!

"He won't cope, no" I let my head hang down, "no, you can't do all the other stuff but let me see him" I force my head up "please"

Never would I have thought of myself begging to a police officer for a person, get here I was, begging, tears pricking at my eyes.

All he did was shake his head. "Please" I whimpered, before being hulled up and pulled out the room. When I looked up I was in another room. Sniffing, i wiped my eyes and returned my gaze to the grey floor tiles.

"When you feel ready you can leave" said the voice belonging to the arms that's placed me here, the owner of that voice turned and left.

I knew they were watching me, somewhere behind a hidden window, but I didn't care. I curled up into a ball, rocking gently back and forth. The truth is; he'll be fine and I'm not going to cope, and that's what I'm most scared about.

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