Restless [Reckless Sequel] || Harry Styles AU (DISCONTINUED)

13: part one

My eyes drifted to the door. The handle was taken off and the door was dead bolted.

"Hi, Jessica." The nonchalance in his voice caused my stomach to twist in knots.

He dared to take a step towards me.

"Get the fuck away from me," I hissed.

He spoke like I hadn't said anything at all. "That was a long meeting, wasn't it. I was waiting a long time."

"He–"

My cry for help didn't last long before he reached a hand behind his back and pulled out a gun.

I stopped breathing. Was this actually happening? Did I really get kidnapped? This had to be some joke. A gun? I wanted to laugh out loud so bad.

"This is just for precaution," the psychopath explained. "You know, in case someone interrupts us. I'm sure you can understand how rude that is. Somebody interfering with something you've been working so hard on."

Come on, Jess. You've watched cop shows. Make conversation.

"Yeah," I croaked out. I tried making my voice sound light, but it contradicted with the terrified death glare on my face.

"We have so much in common. Last time I saw you, we didn't have time to talk. Actually...you didn't want to talk. But now—" he laughed. He laughed. "—you have to talk."

I nodded. "Okay, yeah, let's talk. What's your name?"

"John."

Is his last name Doe or something?

"I know a lot about you, Jessica Grace Steele. Born January 28th, 1996 in Seattle, Washington at Victoria Mason Hospital. You're an only child. You attended South Seattle High School and got decent grades. Ironically, you hated your music class because no one took it seriously and you didn't pick up the guitar easily. Your best friend is Julia Lynn Marshall. You're currently dating Harry Edwards Styles who is starting up his own music career, and you aren't sure how you feel about it."

"Why do you know all that?"

"Because we're very similar people."

My lips parted. I remember this part from just about every action movie ever when the hero and villain face off in the final battle. The hero always wins. The good guys win.

"Your parents are dead, right?" He asked with nonchalance.

I nodded.

"So are mine."

"I'm sorry."

"It hurts doesn't it?"

Conversation is good.

"Sometimes," I said.

"You're lying." He didn't say his words in a threatening way, but as if I'd just told some crazy hyperbole.

John shifts his weight onto his right leg. "The way both of our parents died does not settle well with us. We're stuck always wondering why it happened. 'Wrong place, wrong time'..."