Zodiac 》Harry Styles

✍9

Simply delightful, the terror of one is not as beautiful as the terror of many. It is funny, I think how you all slowly turn your backs on each other. Or even when you turn yourself in for some twisted fame. I know you all are breathing down my necks, but I'm definitely not stupid. I play the big bad wolf in this era and it is my duty to avenge my father and treat all of you as the rotten evil pigs you guys were set out to be. We are going to have so much fun, aren't we? A New Year means a new me and trust me, I cannot wait to show you what I have in store.

》 Eth nosw wlli lafl nda i wlil evale a tacre fo ym obloyd ofotpirsnt orf ouy lal ot ese《

Perfect. He sits there helpless as his arms and legs were tethered to a chair. His muffled screams and pleads for help echoed through the small building. The rag that was clamped over his mouth tears seeped through the blindfold that covered his vision. His trembling body, waiting anxiously for what is bound to come; I tapped on the little plastic tube in my hands as I came closer. Steven Locke karma is here. I stood right behind him, spinning his chair to face me. I smiled at the helpless boy, he's waiting for his fate, and I'm here to cruelly remind him what he's done. His bottom lip trembled, his body became stiff.

Lovely, I slowly took the blindfold from around his eyes. A flash of relief scrolled over his face then quickly erased when he took on my appearance. His eyes traveled to my face and that's when he broke down. Gasps and sobs left his lips as I saw my shiny, metallic reflection through his eyes.

"P-please" He stutters underneath the rag that's tied over his mouth. All I could do that the moment is chuckle. He's vulnerable; fear is overtaking his body. His life is flashing before his eyes. I want him to see every painful, yet joyful memory he experienced throughout his wasted life.

The room fell silent; I can hear his rapid breathing as I flick on the needle attached to the tube. A small droplet trickles from the side of the silver needle. I start to lean in bringing the needles towards his neck, targeting the vein. He shakes his head relentlessly trying to stop me from my actions. But I wasn't having it; I snatch his head in my hands gripping his jaw as I slowly push the needle in his neck. Slowly ever so slowly I push the thin needle in dragging out the pain to make this last longer.

His muffled profanities and screams spill out his mouth along with his tears. His eyes shut, giving up as the syringe was plunged into his neck. I push down on the syringe watching in amusement as the liquid oozes into his neck leaving the tube. He opens his eyes one more time then lets them roll behind his head as he took his last breath. I yank out the syringe and threw it onto the floor.

The sight, the power, the strength I hold for taking away a life frightens me. I never expected myself to be the way I am. I kick the chair over causing his body and the chair to collapse to the floor. Making sure he was dead before pulling off my "mask". I run my hands through my slightly damp curls before wiping the dust that was on my gloves onto my pants. I push the curls back from my face again and then place the heavy thing back over my head. I walk up the stairs, leaving the body where it is and grabbed a bag.

See people don't know what I'm doing. I'm the malicious killer, never giving anyone the time of day, but why should I give them a chance? Hearing their desperate pleading, hearing them beg and cry for their useless life. Where they spent throwing it away,

I gently shove his body into the black hefty bag. It is quite humorous, not the murdering, the killings, the torment, but the death. How people tend to fear death, how it lurks in the shadows and sits there and waits, waits to sneak up on your back and watch you take your final breath. This action can either be happily in the hands or arms of your loved ones or your blood stained on your enemies clothes.

The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

For me to be the one to hide and wait for you to pass, so I can pounce on your back to watch you fall into a pit of defeat. As I stand tall and filled with triumph, a smile on my face. Why? Why would I smile at such a cruel thing, such a vile and horrible act I've committed but I still stand there and smile. I smile because I'm proud, proud at being the alpha-male, watching people cower away from their loved ones in suspicion of them might being the possible killer. Turning backs, creating fights and me to start this makes me feel complete. I'm doing my job right and that's all that matters, but I'm not done yet... no no no there is definitely more to come.

Harry's hasn't comprehended the euphoria in it all. He just seeks out the art. He's meticulous, I'm messy yet I always take control, tweaking my mess to fill Harry's need.

We are opposites yet we work together as one and I won't have it any other way. Even if it kills her.