Gardens Of Eden (A Harry Styles Story)

54. A New Kind of Game

"Unlike most other psychological disorders, the core issue in trauma, is reality." 

-Bessel Van Der Kolk

**

The dream felt airy, bright. Too bright.

I walked down the street aimlessly, a cool breeze touching my skin. Across the street, I saw a gate, and I stopped.

My hair tickled my face, I reached up.

When the itch worsened, and I scratched harder, frustrated to find my fingers completely unable to sooth the annoying itch. That's when I woke up.

I was instantly aware that my hands were above my head, but in the pitch black room, it was impossible to decipher where I was, and I felt instantly disoriented. My nose itched. My hair was in my face.

Tugging sharply outward, I felt the metal cuffs holding me by numb wrist to the bed I was laying on. The sudden weight of the situation landed on my chest like an anvil. Where the hell was I, and what could I remember?

I remembered Danielle, I tried to call her... I went to the back gate, and then... 

Fear in the pit of my stomach bubbled up, threatening my ability to rationalize. He took me, just outside Harry's house. I forced my brain to go back. One foggy memory came back as well, of tall, ivy covered walls... but I was leaving them behind me. I remember feeling safe. Had I dreamt it? 

Damn it. Nothing made sense. 

Suddenly, a sound caught my attention in the hallway. Was it the bearded man, would I finally find out?

I stared wide-eyed, rapidly working to jog a memory, an instinct, something... then, ever so slowly, I heard the door creak open, .

"Hello, who's there, who are you?" I spoke to the darkness. When no one responded, I tried again. "Please, tell me who you are?" 

In the stale air, a cold sweat creeped into my body. 

He's crazy. Gotta be obsessed. I focused on taking deep breaths. So how do I get him talking? 

"I saw you, you know. At the Gala-" I could picture the way his eyes had pierced mine through the crowd.

"I saw you too, Eve."

I was shaking as I struggled to decipher the voice through the whispered growl.

"..and I, I just wanted to talk." I struggled to find ground to stand on, instead of just a bed to lay tied to. I forced myself to try and think clearly. I remembered chasing him through the hallways, "You left a donation..."

A short chuckle cut off my trailing sentence. Something still wasn't adding up.

"You don't even know who you're talking to, do you?" The face of the mystery man was changing, and I realized I knew this voice...

"Maybe we should start over then?" He offered politely. The change in tone, something about the way he became a little too formal ...no.

"Officer Myers." I whispered, feeling the blood leave my cheeks. The room suddenly felt much smaller, and my palms went clammy cold. 

..In the vehicle, driving me away from the Garden... the memory I thought was a dream came back. I thought he was helping me... 

I was a fool.

At his name, Myers stepped into the room, and I instinctively gripped the wooden bed frame as I tried to breathe calmly. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the shadow was moving closer, stepping slowly towards the head of the bed. When he reached down, I held my breathe in horror, not wanting to be touched, but he only gripped my fingers, as if politely shaking my hand.