The Direction of Fate

When Ellie Harper's parents ship her off from Australia to live with her brother in Holmes Chapel, England, the arrogant and obnoxious Harry Styles enters her life. Their frequent encounters have them both suspicious, but Ellie shrugs it off as just an irritating coincidence. But the more they see each other, the more she questions if this is something more than just chance. And it doesn't help that she has vivid nightmares involving her quite dominant and sadistic curly-haired neighbour.

Was this the direction of fate, or was the universe honestly burdening her with this pompous boy band member?


7. Rough Sketches

Another scream ripped through me, separating me from the horrors of my nightmare into my reality. The sound reverberated in my ears, ringing sharply until it faded. All that was left was a dull throb.

     I smeared away the hair that clung to my clammy face and tried pacing each breath I tightly gasped.

     Once again, the Harry of my nightmares took another disturbing shape. He was merely a shadow, a blank figure hidden until wanting to be seen. I, on the other hand, was on foot, running until my legs ached, and even then I kept going. We both knew it was a chase, a chase that he'd always win. He loved it. He loved seeing me flinch and panic and know that I could never really escape him.

     The game was short, but still unexpected. He had launched himself in front of me as I had my head turned back, so when I looked forward, he had me in his grasp.

     "I win," he had purred, his eyes vibrant with triumph and sadism.

     "Harry, please don't," I whimpered, weakening in fear between his fierce hold on my shoulders.

     "Why are you begging? You chose to run..." he pressed his wet lips to my neck and sucked hard, " be chased..." then grazed his teeth along the swollen flesh, " be punished..."

     He had bit down so hard, I screamed out in pain, trying to squirm away from the teeth that pierced open my skin.

     "Maybe that will remind you who you belong to," he growled into my ear, and that was when I shot out of my slumber.

     I carefully touched my neck, the memory of the pain still lingering. In the bathroom, the olive skin was bare of any marks, but that didn't stop me imagining the bruised love bite. Somewhere in my subconscious, I was bound to him, which was both insane and terrifying.

     My fingers pried apart the curtains, letting the Saturday morning light flood in. I had no plans or social life thus far, so I scurried around in my bags until I found something to do. When I claimed a sketchpad and a pencil pack, I knew what would occupy me this weekend.

     My parents had given me art supplies as a little distraction from the fact that they were shipping me off. I hadn't drawn in so long, and they thought it was just what I needed to retain a sense of me again.

     Sitting on the floor at the end of my bed, I opened a fresh page, pulled out a pencil and let my hand guide the graphite across the textured paper. The more I shaded and filled in the white, the harder my grip became on the stick. Soon enough, the tip had gone blunt from my feverish sketching. I'd already finished my creation, but the outcome wasn't what I had expected.

     A gasp fell from my lips and the pad fell from my clutch. I stood up, withdrawing from the book that lay open on the carpet. The portrait was recognisable; it was Harry, but the sketch wasn't quite accurate. What it resembled was something more demonic, twisted and contorted but significantly detailed. His eyes appeared to pop out of the page, boring into mine. The rest of his complexion was overshadowed, resembling the figure in my dream last night. His smile was broad on his face, sharp teeth hiding behind his plump lips.

     I grabbed the book and slammed it closed, shoving it under a pile of textbooks on my study desk.

     A moment passed before I could regain composure. It took a while to realise how stupid this was and how it didn't mean anything, and once I did, I left my room to leave the confusion behind.

     "That's fantastic!" I heard Lottie cheer as I entered the kitchen. She had her arms wrapped around Noah's neck, and he was laughing.

     "What's fantastic?" I asked.

     "I've got a pretty massive gig on next Saturday at a bar in town," Noah said, and I synchronised a cheer with Lottie.

     "That is fantastic!" I said. "Seems like your band has been getting a lot of work recently."

     "Speaking of work," Noah started, leaning himself on the bench. "I know mum and dad's money they gave you isn't going to last forever, and you'll need to pay some of the rent... So have you thought about looking for a job around town?"

     I knew the question was going to be raised soon enough, so I agreed and planned to check any hiring places tomorrow. For now, I was just enjoying my quiet Saturday, hoping a certain boy wouldn't disturb it.


I'd given up even attempting to open my sketchbook again, so instead I occupied myself in front of my laptop on my bed.

     I clicked on Facebook and a wave of notifications and inboxes flooded me. I guess I was missed more than I thought.

     My profile photo made me cringe with both disgust and nostalgia. Even though it was a close up of my dark-ringed eyes and nose ring, the memory of home twisted my stomach.

     In the inboxes, I recognised one name from back home; Tiffany Walker. My best and worst friend.

     I don't like to point fingers, but she was one of the main reasons my parents had enough of me. We had shoplifted from a store, resulting in being caught by surveillance. I took most of the blame, yet the whole idea was hers to begin with. She felt no remorse, no sympathy or guilt. I don't even remember properly saying goodbye to her when I left.

     Now she had sent a message, and to be honest, I didn't feel like reading it. Instead, I went to her profile page, in which she hadn't changed at all. The same girl in the photo smiled at me, but the difference was the posts below:

     "I miss you so much! You're an idiot xx"

     "So pissed you got caught...hope jail food tastes good."

     Staring incredulously at the following posts, I put together that she shoplifted once again, but this time resulting in juvenile detention. I also let out a breath of relief; that could have been me if I was still in Australia.

     I decided to get rid of Facebook and put some music on, and maybe that would be my first and last successful distraction for this seemingly doomed Saturday. It didn't even require any effort on Harry's part.




I woke up to only a gasp, my heart stuttering but nothing too major. The dream was vague, and I thanked that it wouldn't distract or bother me today. I had to look for a job, something that no one looks forward to.

     My first checks were shop windows, looking for any hiring signs, but most didn't require any assistance. I got as far as a little café, in which I entered on my break. The smell of toasted and grinded coffee beans churned my stomach and excited my senses, and I ended up getting myself a cappuccino to go. I could drink it whilst looking for more hiring positions...

     "Watch out!" I heard a voice warn quickly, but it was too late. I slammed into the person's torso, resulting in my coffee spilling onto my chest. The initial shock of the hot beverage against my sweater distracted me from the impatient person I stumbled upon.

     "Ellie?" they said, and I looked up to see a familiar pair of Ray Bans.

     "Harry? I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," I gushed, trying to wipe the coffee from my top and it dripped to the floor. When I looked back up at him, he seemed to be scowling.

     "Just my luck, running into you," he mumbled and chuckled, thumbing is brow.

     I laughed incredulously and scoffed. "You say it like I planned to bump into you, and wear my drink." I was still soaked, the cup dripping in my hand. "And are you hung over again?"

     "I may have been called out to party after our tutor lesson," he winced, taking the remainder of my coffee from my sticky grasp to take a mouthful. "Cheers."

     I sneered and rolled my eyes, brushing my shoulder against his as I walked past, exiting the shop and down the street.

     "Wait!" Harry called, jogging carefully behind my set pace. "I'm sorry. Here." He held out my practically empty coffee cup to me.

     "Nah, you keep it," I said, crinkling my nose.

     "Let me buy you another one-even though you technically ran into me and spilled it on yourself," he attempted at a certain kindness.

     "I don't know if I should take this in a good way or be offended," I mumbled, following Harry back into the café.

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