A/N: This is a story I’ve been working in the background for awhile, and I never thought about publishing it (it was just something I wrote for funsies). But hey, sharing is caring, right? Anyways… this does have all my favorites in it (twenty one pilots, All Time Low, 1D: i.e. another reason I didn’t want to post). Here’s a little teaser though, lovelies! If a lot of you want the first chapter, I’ll post, if not, hey that’s cool, too! I’ll just keep it to myself! Enjoy!
Gif not mine!
“Please Harry, you don’t have to be this way.” Her voices trembles. She sits on the bed in the corner, her tiny frame pressed against the wall. Not willingly, but out of fear. Harry is angry. His shoulders are hunched, and his jaw is clenched.
“Don’t tell me what to be!” His fist collides with the wall, a large dent outline all around of it. “Fuck you! Look what you made me do!” He fingers shoot towards her soft neck, wrapping around tightly and tugging her close. He can’t help that he’s blinded by his bipolar disorder. It transforms him from the sweetest human being to the one that is the very definition of evil itself: a cold-blooded killer.
Harry feels like it’s the only way to regain a little control be satisfying that demon inside him. He seems at ease. The hunger subsiding with each breath that slips from his grasp. Niall and Liam haven’t witnessed this irrational behavior because he hides it so well. Louis, however, is cracking under the pressure of fame. With the paparazzi hounding, nasty rumors, and obsessed fans, it’s all becoming too much so Harry’s demon lets him in on his little secret and now Louis has his own.
Is it possible to change two killers when their own worst enemy is themselves?
That’s how I feel when I stick my shovel deep into the dirt and sand. White t-shirt soaking in sweat after forty minutes of digging two holes about six feet deep. Dust and mud cover me from head to toe, and I feel gross. It was all worth it though, I reassure myself as I stare at the mound of freshly dug dirt that would disappear in tonight’s rain. My reign of control that was lost a week prior has returned. I’ll enjoy it.
My hands rest on the top of the wooden handle of the shovel as I continue to admire my work, then avert to the other man shortly after. Louis throws one last shovel full of dirt on top of the pile he already has then sighs out in relief, tossing away the tool. He stretches out his arms and lets out a giant yawn, exhausted from today’s fun. His white Raybans have a thin layer of dust on the lens. We’ll both enjoy it while it lasts.
This one, she was beautiful. Her brown hair brushed the tops of her shoulders, and her hazel eyes glimmered in the sunlight. Her smile was contagious as well as her laugh. That body was perfect, small and fragile, curves in all the right places. My tongue runs across my bottom lip just thinking about it. I remember the soft feel of her skin when it brushed my fingertips, and how she’d quiver with fear.
I remember the adrenaline rush that came when my large hand was at her throat, squeezing it tightly. I loved it. I craved more of it. I wanna be in control again. When she begged for me to stop, my grip strengthened. I didn’t like that. She wants to be in control. My left hand twitched like it was telling me to carry on. So I did. I rammed that chef’s knife deep into her stomach not once, not twice, but three times, tearing into some of her vital organs. Tears were falling from those hazel eyes, and blood-curdling screams erupted from that pretty little mouth that still rings my eardrums six hours later.
I remember her shaking body sliding to the ground, her core a bloody mess. She cried softly from the pain and pressed against her wounds with her tiny hands, trying to stop the bleeding, but failed. It just seeps between the cracks of her fingers. I watch as the life slipped away from her, the gleam in her eye is now a faded white. Her whole body was relaxed and peaceful. I’m in control again; I feel better. I cradled her in my arms and brought her into the bathroom where the blue barrel was waiting. Four bottles of hydrofluoric acid later, she’s literally a bloody puddle, and now she’s six feet underground in the desert along with three others. Going to all that trouble and I can’t remember her name. I think it was Dani? Or perhaps, Debbie? Oh well, she doesn’t mean anything anymore.
“Harry?” Louis’ shrill voice interrupts my reminiscing, and I look up at him. “Give me a hand would ya? It’s bad enough we’re doing this in the afternoon when people are awake.” I nod then pull my shovel out of the dirt and walk over to him.
It takes ten minutes to finish packing the dirt on before we hear crunching tires behind us. I plop down one more shovelful before I step away and observe it. “That should be alright.” I wipe away the dripping sweat with my shirt then pull my curls back into a small bun. “I’ll go get the car.”
Louis tosses the keys over then I retreat off to the black Range Rover, parked a safe distance away. The sounds crunching dirt comes to a halt behind me when I approach the black vehicle. “You alright?” Turning my head slightly, I find a black-haired man hanging out the side window. He has a patch of red in one section of his hair and small diamonds earrings of in both ears.
“Yeah, m'alright. Thanks.”
My teeth clench together when he doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? We don’t mind taking you into town. It’s a pretty long walk to the nearest station.” We? My gaze scoots over and sports a pixie cut brunette with sunglasses and painted red lips. She doesn’t look too thrilled to be helping a stranger by the small frown she wears.
“My friend and I just got back from a hike, s'all. Thanks for being concerned, though.” I reply smoothly. It’s a good thing I wore basketball shorts and tennis shoes.
The man smiles, showing off a set of perfect teeth. “Oh! My bad!” The brunette sighs in relief and whispers something to him before eyeing the road, apparently eager to drive off. “Enjoy your evening, man!”
Oh trust me, I will. After waving goodbye, they speed off then I climb into the car and bring the engine to life before cranking the air conditioning full blast. The crisp cool air is refreshing.
“Let’s go,” I say when I pull up next to the grave site. I hop out of the car to help Louis with the supplies. He hands me the shovel along the way. Louis falls in step with me. “Ya know I’m actually goin’ to miss that one.” My brows come together in response, confused. “I actually admired her, so it was a little hard to end it all. I almost shed a tear.” That makes me chuckle as we put our supplies in the trunk.
“Can’t be doin’ tha’ though Lou, we can’t trust them. At all.” His lips form a hard line, and he hesitates before nodding. I’m always extremely strict dangerous when it comes to this part of our lives. One fuck up and we’re screwed, making our condition worse than it already is. We could never regain control of our lives again, the media would tear us apart, our careers would deteriorate, and our fans wouldn’t love us anymore.
Our case together rests at sixteen counts of first-degree murder along with sixteen aggravating factors of destruction to the body which factors out to a whole life sentence in prison. I shake my head. We can’t live like that. Just thinking about it alters the high I feel right now. We climb into the car, and Louis peels off when I give him the go ahead, kicking up dirt behind us as we head back to the road.
I’m in charge of everything the both is us do when it comes to this. I started it last month when we were literally the source of every single tabloid headline. Not in a good way either. Too many bullshit stories made up by anyone who wanted a quick buck, too many to handle at once. Plus with the stress of the tour we’re on, our new album underway, missing my family back in London. It’s just so overwhelming sometimes. I felt like I was losing control of everything, always screwing every single thing up. No one would listen to me. It didn’t start out as Louis and I. For awhile it was just me releasing all the frustration. But soon, I saw Louis’ world just get darker and darker. He was depressed, I could tell. At first, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve kept this a secret from everyone for so long, and I didn’t know how he would perceive me. There was also the threat of him spilling to one of the other boys and his family then I would be ruined, but he’s my best friend. Someone who I could never keep anything from. When I first told him, he couldn’t believe what he heard then almost called the police when I showed him the photo album I keep of all my victims before I.. eliminate them. The only way to get him on board was to show him what it felt like to be in control again. And after that night, he has never felt so alive.
I’ll never forget the first girl I murdered. It haunts me every single day and night. If I could take it all back, I would. It was at a meet and greet in Columbus, fans buzzing through the line waiting for their picture with us. Each flash made me more irritable, but I put on the best smile I could, just for them. The boys were angsty as well. Niall wasn’t his usual charming self, Louis was extra quiet, and Liam barely smiled in between each picture. It was hitting us hard. Then I saw her; she was the last one, kind of short, red hair with bangs, and green eyes. Her name was Ella, seventeen years old. She was ecstatic to meet us and couldn’t stop smiling the whole way through.
Disturbing thoughts shot through my brain when the picture was taken. Ella would listen to me; she would do whatever I told her to do. I could.. gain control. I could take her hostage, torture her, then when I’m done I could just.. get rid of her. Kill her. My body shivered. No, Harry, no. This isn’t right. This isn’t you. My inner angel screamed in my ear, but the devil’s words were so overpowering. You have to do this. You need this! Your emotional life is in shambles. We wrapped up the meet and greet, and the boys started to leave the venue, but I lingered behind. My plan wasn’t going to work, I had nowhere to stow her away. But I just wanted some satisfaction. I’d just fulfill the last part. I walked by one of our roadies’ tool chest and slipped a screwdriver cautiously into my coat pocket along with a lighter.
I memorized where Ella exited and followed her path. I flipped up my hood and shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my coat, fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the tool. It took a few minutes of walking, but I spot her alone down the sidewalk. Headphones slipped over her bobbing head as she slightly danced to whatever beat she’s listening to. My feet pick up the pace to meet up with her and once I’m in arms reach I tapped her on the shoulder.
She jumped a little but spun around. That smile returned when she exclaimed my name. She questioned my presence here, but I ignored it. I asked her to follow me into the darkest alley I could find, saying it held a surprise from us. Of course, she took the bait. My armed hand sweated profusely in my pocket, and as soon as we turned the corner, I asked if she was ready. Her reply was a bubbly yes. I close my eyes and let out a sigh. It all happened so quickly.
My hand grabbed her shirt collar then slammed her against the brick wall of the building, knocking the wind out of her. I pressed my hand hard against her mouth to prevent the cries of pain from being heard. She didn’t fight back, probably because she couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough. Then I did it. I stabbed her. Ten times in the abdomen. She was dead before she hit the ground with a thud. I gulped, aware of what I’ve done, gasping for air. My eyes flew down to the blood-soaked hand that shook profusely. What.. have you done? “Control..” I murmured, and then I.. smiled. I put the bloodied screwdriver back into my pocket then took her phone and broke it since it had evidence of myself on it. As for the body, I pulled out the lighter and lit her shirt. It took awhile for it to catch flame, but it finally did. I quickly tossed her into a nearby dumpster and shut the lid then retreated from the scene, fulfilled.
But now, I hate myself for it. I killed a fan. A loyal, loving fan. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t ever go after a then again; I told the Louis that, too. Over that last month, I’ve constructed some rules we go by as we become more experienced.
1. No fans.
2. Don’t interfere with the each other’s victim.
3. Never let them out of the room.
4. Always kill the victim when you’re through.
5. Allow yourself two to three months for cooldown.
We live by these rules until these days are done, or we get caught, but everyone is so careful when it comes to this, so I don’t have to worry too much.
The tall buildings of Santa Monica come into view four hours later. The sun sets low in the sky making it a beautiful orange color. It’s six o’ clock so rush hour is in effect. We are just inching along the streets until we get back to our luxurious house on the cliffs that we all share. We only stay there when we are in town for extended periods of time, and since Simon suggested that we take a break from touring and just focus on the new album, he gave us two months off. I haven’t had a break that long since.. we first started One Direction. That’s absolutely insane.
Louis has the radio on, listening to the latest game are in the front seat talking about football, and I’m just staring out the open window. I’m so exhausted, I just wanna get back and sleep for the rest of the day. I begin to close my droopy eyes to catch some Zs since we would be in traffic for awhile, but I hear someone call out, “No! Stop! My board!” Crunch.
My eyes fly back open when Louis slams on the brakes. A woman trots out into traffic and to our car, a frown pasted on her maroon stained lips. A pair of Aviators set on her nose and another pair of regular black glasses hang off her gray tank top. A plaid purple button-up hangs loosely over the top of that. She wears blue jean shorts and a pair of gray Vans. She’s tall and thin, and not to mention beautiful.
Louis rolls down his window. “M'so sorry.”
She picks up the wooden longboard that had colorful flowers painted on it, cracked in two pieces. She sighs then places the pieces under her right arm. “It’s okay I guess. You didn’t know. Thanks for stopping.”
“Babe? You alright? I heard yelling.” A yellow haired man skates up on his own board wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, sneakers, and a snapback. His was built strong, defined muscles along his arms and chest. A silver hoop pierces his nostril and a long colorful tattoo sleeve envelopes his entire right arm. A look of concern held his face.
“I’m all right, Josh. My board isn’t though. She frowns at the pieces. He cringes and takes them from her small hands.
“Once again, thanks for stopping.” She says with a half smile.
“No problem, but you should try some super glue.” Louis jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
“Or duct tape.” I throw in with a grin.
She laughs, adding to her beauty. “Or both, highly doubt that’ll work, but thanks for the suggestions.” A car horn interrupts them, and she looks at the vehicle behind us. “I’ll let you get back to driving.” She pats the roof our car then turns to walk away.
“Wait!” Louis calls out, and she turns on her heel. “What’s your name?”
“(Y/N), and that’s all you need to know for now. We’re late for our date with my couch and Netflix, thanks to you!” Josh chuckles and rolls his eyes. She walks back on the sidewalk. “Bye One Direction, excellent meeting half of you.” She winks then strolls away.
“Wasn’t she something?” Louis rolls up his window and starts driving away, but before she’s out of sight, I pull out my camera and snap a photo of her. Her attitude is something I’ve never encountered before. She’s sarcastic and full of fire. I like that. It’s a new challenge. The urge is back, and I only know one way to fix it.
I want (Y/N) to be my next victim.
* * * *
Nine o’ clock rolls around when we finally reach the house that sits on the outskirts of Santa Monica. The sun has almost disappeared beneath the horizon, turning the sky a periwinkle color with faint shades of pink and orange mixed in. Chatter flies between the boys when Louis pulls inside the garage, but I remain quiet, too focused on what’s in my hands. Those past two hours, I pulled open that photo I snapped and gazed at it. My thumb presses the button above the selection wheel, zooming in closer to her face, but blurring it severely in the process. I can barely make out her features and the (Y/H/C) blob of hair. My fists tighten around the camera, angered by the quality. I need another. “Ya coming, mate?” Louis asks, making me raise my head and look to the right. “Hm?”
“I said are ya coming? We’re home now.” He asks again. I didn’t even hear him get out of the Rover; I must have been that distant. I nod nonchalantly at him then look back down at the camera. His footsteps smack against the garage floor as he walks to the door leading into the kitchen.
Shutting off the camera, I follow Louis inside a few minutes later and head straight to my room, avoiding the hellos from Liam and Niall, and locking the door behind me. I shower, washing away any reminder of what I’ve just done six hours ago then slip on a pair of lounge pants afterward. I slick my brown curls away from my face as I walk over to my bed, picking up my laptop that’s underneath it. I collapse on the navy blue comforter and open it up, typing in the first social media site that comes to mind: Twitter.
My fingers type in her name in the search bar to find her in my followers list. A million hits. Scrolling through many accounts with no success after about half an hour, I decided to try a different spelling. The scroll bar a little longer this time producing fewer results. Once again, scanning each individual icon I find, but nothing. Maybe she doesn’t have a Twitter account? I move on to Instagram and begin the process all over again. My frustration building with each time I try, then I freeze.
I found her. I click on her username @(Y/U/N); it loads up the page, and I notice she has fifty thousand followers. I click the icon. The photo is of her with two other people I don’t recognize. One of them is a girl with short blue hair in a sleeveless white dress with rainbow heels on her feet. She’s laughing at someone off to the side of the photo. The next is a guy with pink hair that’s shaved on either side. He wears a jacket paired with a purple shirt, bowtie, and black skinny jeans. He plants a kiss on (Y/N)’s cheek who smiles brightly with tightly closed eyes. My face flushes red.
Her hair is curled loosely and falls down past her bust. She’s dressed in ripped black skinny jeans, a studded leather jacket, and a plain white t-shirt along with black ankle boots. Both arms are draped around them, hugging them close. They’re all standing on a red carpet with a backdrop that says ‘APMAs’ in multiple places. I guess it was at an awards show.
I exit the photo and look through her feed. The last picture was posted three hours ago, but the photo wasn’t hers. She reposted it from another account. ’@mermalicat: one of my many OTPs.’ A red curtain is halfway open revealing a sleeping couple, (Y/N), and the same guy, but with blue hair this time sleeping in a bunk. He lies on his back, head slouched to the left buried in her hair while she’s curled up and snuggled into his right side. A laptop screen lowly lights them like they fell asleep watching something. My anger keeps building upon itself, the need growing and growing the longer I stare at it.
Who is that? That guy she was with earlier? A fire ignites in my stomach when I click on his name that’s tagged in the photo. I’m all right, Josh. My board isn’t though. Her sad voice echoes in the back of my brain. That’s his name! He’s the drummer for a band called twenty one pilots, over a million followers and verified. I scroll through his feed for awhile trying to find any indication of his relationship with (Y/N). All the photos of them make it seem like they’re a couple. Whether it’s holding hands, cuddling, hugging, or anything remotely cute, my mind flashes couple. They’re definitely a couple.
I can’t have that. However, how do I get Josh out of the picture? I’ve never dealt with boyfriends before. All of my previous victims were single when I met them. He’s well known, too, which would cause an uproar in their fandom. I lie back on my pillow, a playful smile on my face as I ponder ways to get Josh out the picture. Maybe a few stabs to the chest, or a slit to the throat so I can watch all the blood trickle down on the pavement, or I could try something new and smother him with a pillow. So many options to choose from. Either way, he’ll be gone when I’m through with him.
My dark green eyes flick to the bottom right corner of my computer screen to check the time: midnight. I let out a timely yawn then shut the laptop screen, sliding it back under the bed. The exhaustion from earlier reaches it peak and my eyes fall shut. I have lots of work to do tomorrow.
Bright rays of light shine through the curtains making me clench my eyes tightly, I groan and roll over pulling the comforter over my head. I lie there in silence for a few more minutes before groaning and throwing the covers off of me. I rub the sleep from my eyes, then grab my phone and check the time, twelve pm. I hear the rest of the boys downstairs along with clinking dishes; they must be making breakfast. I throw on a t-shirt then head down the wooden stairs; it’s fresh and relaxing against my aching feet. Inhaling the scents of waffles, I walk into the kitchen, and I’m greeted by Louis who has a mouthful of food. “Mornin’ Hazza, well I guess I should say afternoon.”
I chuckle then grab a plate from the cupboard then head back over to the island where Niall is making another batch of waffles. “Afternoon Louis, and you guys as well.” I grab a fork and stab two of them, placing each on my plate. They nod in acknowledgment.
“How many are you making Niall?! Our families left ages ago!” Louis states and swirls his piece in syrup before popping it in his mouth.
Niall shrugs. “Use to it, I guess. I’ll eat em’ anyways, you know that.” I sit down next to Liam and grab the syrup, drizzling a decent amount before digging in. I place my phone next to the plate to start my research again. Recording for our new album starts in about two weeks, so I have until then to establish a plan for Josh and find (Y/N) in person again.
When I was searching his Twitter feed, I discovered that he’s also working on a new album, staying very late in the studio. I’ll just wait until he walks outside alone, then strangles him from behind. There’s an option to consider. Only I need to find out where it is. There are thousands of places in Santa Monica to record, so I’ll have to do some hardcore digging.
Another thing I noticed is that he likes to be by himself. I could try home invasion or lure him outside at night, but that may be a little riskier. I could time all this out correctly, I gain her trust like usual but prolong it so when I get rid of Josh, I’ll be there for comfort making it so much easier to steal her away. That sounds perfect.
I take another bite of my waffles, which are very delicious by the way, then fingers snap in my direction, bringing my attention away from my phone. “Hazza?” Louis asks, a bit of worry in his voice. “Are you okay? Did you hear what Liam said?” Niall sits across from me at the island, his brows pulled together with confusion.
“Uh, yeah I’m alright. Sorry. What did you say?” I brush it off quickly, then address Liam.
“I said that we should all do something today, you know like go golfing or something.”
“I’m down for that!” Niall says excitedly, then sips his orange juice. “Or we could go to the beach, too. I don’t care.”
My stomach ties in knots. Usually, after our victims are taken care of, we take a few months to unwind and relax, then build up to the next one. Louis made up that rule for our safety so authorities, Liam or Niall don’t grow suspicious and because I always had a taste for moving on so quickly. I shrug, “The beach is excellent, or I hear the summer carnival is back on the pier.”
Niall’s smirk grows. “Oh yeah! Let’s do that so I can beat your asses on all the games.”
“Is that a challenge?” Liam sneers then takes a bite of the last piece of waffle on his plate.
“You better believe it Payno!”
He laughs a little bit. “Fine, at two we’ll go over there, and then I’ll show you what a real champ looks like.” Louis rolls his eyes and continues eating while they go back and forth saying who is better. I shake my head smiling then return back to my phone.
Throughout the rest of breakfast, I figured out where (Y/N) worked, it’s a small bakery called Sweet Tooth that’s located a few blocks down from the pier. I found that out along with other things as well. She’s twenty-three and lives with the blue haired girl (currently brown) Ali, and her favorite places to be: the beach, her apartment patio, the skatepark, and the pier which is where we are heading now. I’m indecisive about her being there; it’s way too early meet her, even though I already did by accident, yet I want her there so I can snap photos of her for a little project I started.
As deranged as I already may sound there’s more to my killings than meets the eye. Deep down in our basement lies a dark room filled with photographs of my past subjects. I process and develop our favorite pictures of them then string them up with laundry clips tastefully around the room. Since I love photography as it is, it makes it easy to keep from Liam and Niall. It’s nice to go back and reminisce on the past sometimes, and this is perfect for that.
Hopefully, the boys aren’t too suspicious of my actions this morning. Louis was a bit skeptical, but he always is afterward. He is the one who reminds me to keep a level head, so I don’t totally go off the deep end, and he’s been doing a great job so far. Good thing, I still do photography for a hobby, so they don’t question me about the camera that hangs around my neck as we walk.
Sounds of hundreds of people, seagulls, and crashing waves fill my eardrums as the ocean air fills my nose. To reduce fan encounters, I pulled my hair back in a low bun, slipped on a pair of sunglasses and a fedora. Niall wears a golf cap, and a pair of Raybans, Louis’ in a beanie and Aviators, and Liam stuck with his usual snap back and Oakley’s, hopefully, no one will notice us.
“Alright!” Niall exclaims, turning around to walk back so he can speak to us. “I say the first game we play is the one where we knock over the bottles with a ball!”
“As you wish!” Liam challenges then we head over to the red tent that’s in the middle left side of the pier. They pay five dollars, and each gets three green balls the size of your palm. “Prepare for failure.” He taunts with a confident smirk. Niall scoffs then lines up his first throw. He tosses it, and barely misses making Liam laugh. “HA!”
“Why did we agree to do this?” Louis leans over and mumbles to me.
“Because we are friendly people who enjoy the company of our friends,” I say. “And we like to watch them humiliate each other,” I add when Liam misses a shot.
Niall grabs another ball and throws it, knocking the top one over. “Oh yeah, suck it!” The guy working the stand rolls his eyes at his childishness and lights a cigarette, taking a long drag. Liam shakes his head, then picks up another ball, tossing it lightly in the air and back into his hand before beaming down the aisle, crashing all three of them down. He looks triumphantly at Niall whose jaw is dropped to the floor. “Wha-?”
“Don’t be sad Niall, you knew this was coming.”
“Fuck you! I want a rematch!” He growls then pulls out his wallet. Liam starts teasing him again.
“And I want food, goodbye!” Louis pipes then turns on his heel to the nearest food stand.
As I stand there and watch the two of them bicker once again, I laugh. After a few minutes, my eyes begin to take in my surroundings: the many colorful tents, an arcade, the giant ferris wheel and little roller coaster. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of (Y/H/C) hair. I turn toward it to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me, but they’re not. There she stands in a white flowy shirt decorated with skulls and a pair of black shorts matched with her gray Vans again. She walks off the ferris wheel with two guys and a girl: Josh, a black-haired man whom I learned, was Ali’s boyfriend Jack, and Ali herself.
Jack turns to break away from the group like he wants to leave, but Ali protests with a loud no and grabs his hand, dragging him to the nearest tent labeled ‘Elephant Ears.’ He throws his head back in annoyance but complies Josh and (Y/N) follow behind shortly, his tattooed arm draped around her shoulders, and she laughs. The sight fuels my hatred for him, even more, making me clench my long fingers around my camera tightly. I lift it to my eye and snap a quick photo.