Ghosts || l.p

Have you ever wanted to float? To have nothing holding you down? To feel the wind in your hair and your soul being lifted on the highest pedestal. Well I don't, why? Because, I've simply floated so high that nothing, not even the love of those i cared for can reach me. I've reached a lonely and dark pedestal that i can't really come down from. Well that's until she came. © Copyright Lxnley 2014. All rights reserved.


3. Chapter 2

1 Year ago...

Harry Styles's Story.

His orchid of curls laid sprawled against the ivory white pillow case of his king size bed, His emerald irises stared at the plain ceiling above him. I wonder what she's doing right now? he thought his gaze averting from his boring ceiling to his even more boring bedroom. The only colour staining his apartment size bedroom was a rich crimson colour, the paint decorated only two walls. Two walls filled with many dark secrets, filled with threats of suicide and moans of pleasure. Those walls were his bedroom secrets, the walls guarded his most intimate and heart breaking moments, more trustful than any best friend and a better listener than any therapist he had seen through his adolescence.

Reluctantly, he lifted his back of the feather like mattress and tore the sheets of his pale body. Bruises, Burns and cuts evident against his pearly skin. His eyes clouded with disgust and memories of severe melancholy, he hated his body, always had, always will. Most women found it sexy, to see a mans most intimate scars, to know that this so called sex god had flaws and wasn't perfect. It didn't mean that there weren't women who hated his imperfections, it just mean't there weren't a lot. Gradually step by step, he had gotten himself out of his seductrice like bed and on his way to his closet. He picked up a pair of clean boxers, Black sweatpants and his Yale oversized sweater. He slowly slipped the charcoal Calvin Klein boxers up his slender legs till they sat securely on the top of his waist, over that he threw on his sweatpants and tossed his sweater over his mane of curls.

​He jogged down the stairs of the manor hearing soft snore erupt from the living room, a small smile crept unto his full baby pink lips as he saw his two best mates snuggled up together on the couch. Louis head rested against Zayn's six pack etched chest, Zayn's arms wrapped themselves protectively around Louis's slender waist that beyond led to a big and full rump. He sighed and decided not to dwell his time staring at the cute couple on the couch, even though he couldn't hide the wave of jealousy that overcrowded his thoughts as he wished that maybe he could have something like that with Alaska. Oh Alaska he thought, she was a diamond in the rough. An angel in the midst of devils, she was so innocent before she met him, before he skinned her of all purity on her olive coloured and porcelain soft skin. Her ariel red hair that waved all the way to her hips, Her Cerulean eyes , that consumed his thoughts for nights. A terrorizing beauty that made him realize he didn't need water to drown. Her lashes where as long as a spiders web the ringlet curl at the tip making it seems robotically made to intrigue you, the fluttering of her lashes like a mermaids intoxicating call. She was short but quite curvy every turn on her delicious body was more breathtaking than the last, an antique soul, filled with broken dreams and memories that made him want to hold her, to protect her from all sin, even himself.

Him and Alaska had always had a shattered relationship, from childhood friends to best friends, from best friends to crushes, from crushes to lovers, from lovers to exes, from exes to friends with benefits and from friend with benefits to a sugar girl and her sugar daddy. He showered her with gifts, money, shelter and cars. She clouded his eyes with lust and coated his lips with moans. It was a relationship without strings and even though he enjoys it as it is now, he cannot help the burning feeling that spreads through his body when she touches him and the bitter taste of heartbreak when she leaves after what he thinks is them making love but to her was a free fuck. A hot and cold relationship, full of whispers of sweet sins and tears of frustration because a love between to broken people is just the birth child of broken souls.

The thoughts of the young twenty year old's body sent tantalizing shocks down his spine and straight to his already awakened morning wood. He picked up the letter on the granite kitchen, his eyes grazing over the cursive writing - To Alaska Green. From Isabelle Green - his eyebrows furrowed as he saw the letter. When did she write this? he thought, curiosity nibbling at his patience. He had remembered clearly that he had ordered his men to kill on Alaska's father and kidnap her mother. It was the second biggest secret that he had kept from Alaska, that the so called men who murdered her family out of jealousy where being ordered by him. He kept her mother with him in the other manor he owned on the other side of town, keeping Alaska away from her mother as much as possible.He knew he had no right to deprive Alaska from a family's love but he couldn't help it. He was hearing things every time he came to visit the Green's. Horrifying things, like what her father would do to her, how he would eat her alive if he could. He always hated the way Sebastien Green - Alaska's father - looked at his daughter lustfully, he wanted to rip his eyes from his sockets every time his eyes would trail to her stimulating rump or when his hand would wrap themselves around her waist pretending to hug her but just looking for any opportunity he had to feel her silky skin against his. He knew it wouldn't be long till lust took over him and he did the worst thing he could do to her, rape. Harry sure as hell wasn't going to stand there and hear that his angel had been raped when he could have done something to prevent it, he couldn't live with the guilt. Even as of now the burning guilt that eats at his heart every night when he remembers her sea eyes tainted with tears when she heard the news.

He sighed running his slender fingers through his bush of curls and opened the letter. His eyes ate up every word written in beautiful italic cursive and he could feel it, the burning feeling, the darkening of his eyes and the boiling of his blood. Who the fuck was Liam? he thought his fist clenching tightly slamming the paper on the counter top. This is bullshit a hundred percent bullshit, Nobody was going to steal Alaska from him not even some little boy named fucking Liam. He knew Alaska's mother loved to prophecies and it seems she had never been wrong, just knowing that there was a cement solid chance that his angel would slip through the little gaps of his fingers made his face churn with rage. This wasn't the Harry that had woken up this morning, it is a new Harry one with rage pumping in his veins and killing etched in his mind.

Too bad so sad, Killer Harry is on the loose.


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