It's not everyday you hear of murders in Cheshire, in fact, it's barely if ever spoken of. The last murder was almost 35 years ago. The people of Cheshire probably had forgotten such thing even existed. It's statistics that 1 in 5 kids will suffer from psychological issues. It's always underlying issues though, depression, anxiety, a bit of paranoia and every now and then, maybe even schizophrenia, however, that's not common at all either. Cheshire is small, and sometimes even considered a bit too small to be called homely but that doesn't stop people from living there. The residents are nice, so it's shocking when the news hit the press, the residents and the news expands itself across the nation. They'd never thought a 20 year old boy that seemed so innocent could cause such crimes. It's not even a day before the news is spread across the entire continent and is displayed on almost every bloody television screen known to man. It's the same photo, over and over. The same boy standing in front of a white wall. It starts off with a view of his entire body and switches up to close up. The world is all too familiar with the pictures within 24 hours. It's a pale skinned boy, quite beautiful, and seems to innocent to be guilty for the crime. His jaw juts out, slightly clenched, his angular face is surrounded my a giant mop of dark, thick curls that clump together loosely around his ears, some even sweeping off into different direction. He appears to the spectators almost like a porcelain doll. His skin is smooth and has a lack of flaws, well, there was no flaw. His eyes bore right into the soul of the viewers, and it catches some off by guard. The eyes are the window to the soul, some people say. If this was a window, they're staring right at the flaming gates of hell. They're dark, no sign of remorse. His eyes were so captivating yet so haunting; dilated pupils that seem to take up most of the space and the faint ring of a dark, sea green. His eyes slightly tinted red, possibly stoned, probably drunk. His hands are bunched into tight and seemingly painful handcuffs, long, slender and pale fingers tightly clasping each other. The boy appears tall too, and thin. Evident by the skin tight jeans he is wearing. His legs seem to go on for miles, and his arms are long too, but his biceps slightly push at the fabric that is rolled up around the top of his arms. His shoulders are broad, and his shirt clings to his frame. It's until they look at his mouth, his plump, strawberry red lips, pulling up into a sadistic smirk, the skin besides the corner of his lips slightly showing off a shallow dimple. He doesn't look sorry.

His face was on every newspaper clipping, front page for almost 3 months. He wasn't really phased by the paparazzi and the townsfolk shouting abuse and throwing things at him when he stepped onto the sidewalk, snowflakes gently floating in the breeze and some falling delicately at his feet. His arms were tightly gripped in the hands of two police officers, skin slightly pinching between their fingers. He tries to ignore the anger that's flickering inside because they're moving so god damn fast, he can't even walk for himself. His eyes slowly move from the dark grey bricks at his feet, to the maybe couple hundred people congregating around his home. He tries to make eye contact with each and every person, his face painfully blank. The voices are muted to his ears though, because the sound of his heart hammering and the sound of his blood pulsing furiously throughout him fills his ears. He's snapped back to reality when the guards are trying to shove his body into the back of the all too familiar police car. His eyes flicker back to the paparazzi that are moving closer, cautiously. He flashes one last wicked smile, white teeth gleaming and eyes burning with fire before he's thrown head first into the back of the car. The back doors slammed shut and locked before he can sit himself up, the stench of smoke and fresh leather makes him want to gag, so he scrunches his nose up. He considers swearing at the officers that are already speeding away from the crowd, but he decides he'll save it for later. The officers wouldn't hesitate to attack, and they'd be ruthless and the boy wouldn't be able to defend himself, he's helpless, with his hands cuffed behind his back and all.

August 13th, 2011. A date that will never be forgotten for many years around Cheshire and residents of England.

The day the most sadistic killer in Cheshire's history was thrown into the biggest max security insane asylum, after pleading temporary insanity.

Harry Styles, at only 20 years old, was convicted of the murder and rape of 5 teenage girls, the possession of a knife and gun on school property and the murder and decapitation of a school teacher.

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It's been 3 years since Harry was thrown into his cell for the first time and he still thinks it smells the same. It smells like sewage and damp, mouldy walls. It's dark, but he's used to it now. It feels normal now. He prefers the darkness though, because he doesn't have to look at the glances he gets when people walk past, not that he really cares. It amuses him. It amuses him that people are so genuinely terrified of him that he has to be locked behind bars. He's staring at ceiling, hands resting behind his head and watches as shadows that could possibly be figments of his imagination dance across the concrete. Harry lets out a loud hiss as he looks down at the woman sitting on his knees.

"Do you even fucking listen to what I have to say? Seriously!?" He bellows and the woman slightly cowers

"Christ, if you use nails again, I won't hesitate to- oh," He throws his head back and sighs.

The feeling of soft lips wrapped around him and the feeling of her fingers slightly digging into his hip bones sends shockwaves running through him. He has to give props to the police department for sending him here, besides the horrible food and the attitude of some guards, he actually likes it here. If he wasn't able to have sex with every girl he's met, he thinks he'd go crazy. It's the only part of normality he has left in his life. He thrusts his hips forward, and grips the girls dark hair in a tight fist. He bites down so hard on his lip he isn't surprised if he draws blood, when he feels her take him in deeper, and he feels himself sliding down the back of her throat. The girl slightly hums, and it travels down Harry's shaft and vibrates against the base. Harry pulls harder at her hair, not really caring at the fact that he's probably really hurting her. He's never cared about anyone's feeling. The girl bobs up, once, twice and hums a bit louder before Harry just lets out a low, throaty, groan and spills himself down her throat. She jerks away abruptly, and spits onto the floor. He sits up, holding himself up by the forearms.

"Excuse me?" He glares

"I-,"

Harry doesn't care that he's completely naked, he reaches forward, and twirls her dirty brown hair between his fingers before pulling hard on them. She lets out a little whimper and looks up into Harry's dark eyes.

"Swallow,"

Harry spits in her eye before releasing her out of his hold. He watches in amusement as the girl jumps off the bed, throwing on her pale green robe. Harry manages to pull up his tracksuits pants and reaches under his bed, pulling a single cigarette out and lighting it, between his pale and slender fingers. He inhales slowly, his body relaxing as the familiar feeling of smoke fills his lungs and leaves a little burn at the back of his throat. He pulls the cigarette from his dark lips, eyeing the girl as she tries to gather her things and then exhales, leaving the cigarette smoke to swirls around his face in little rings and disappearing as fast as they appear. The girl walks forward and sits on the edge of his bed, and Harry's eyebrows bunch together in a frown. Her cold fingers trail the tattoo's that paint his pretty skin. He moves his arm out of the way before she can do anymore and shakes his head. He inhales the cigarette smoke once more before throwing it across the room mindlessly. His joints almost creak when he climbs out of bed, because he hasn't moved much the last few days, he's been pretty occupied with himself and maybe a few others. He turns back to her, dark shadows dancing across his blank face.

"You do not touch me. I do not let anyone touch me, the last person that touched me-,"

"I'm sorry, I won't do that again,"

"Good girl, Sarah,"

"It's Savan-,"

"I don't give a shit, i'll call you Sarah if I really fucking want to!"

Savannah stands up, clutching her belongings in her arms, letting out a deep breath of annoyance before barging past Harry. Harry reacts quickly, snatching her arm in his large hand and clenches hard against her skin. Her green eyes flicker from her arm to his own eyes, and her lips trembling.

"You do as I fucking say, alright?"

She responds with a weak nod.

"SPEAK!"

"I-,"

Harry pushes her against the wall, and her belongings crash against the floor near her feet. Harry's hands are on either side of her head and his knee is lodged between her legs, she can't escape, even if she literally wanted to. His lips pull apart into a snarl and he stares over her.

"Such a waste," He whispers, fingers trailing over the top of her shirt and over her breasts, his body pressing against hers.

"I-Harry-I have to-,"

"You're not going anywhere," He chuckles darkly

Savannah moves fast, but not quite fast enough because Harry's large hands are pressed hard against her neck, and he can feel the familiar anger from all those years ago, coursing through him. He grits his teeth and seethes. His back muscles flexing and shoulder blades digging through his muscles as he uses his strength to slide her up the wall with one arm, hand tight around her airways. Her hands weakly try pulling at his, and he laughs. Her feet flail a bit, but she's a good few inches off the ground.

"I'm going to strangle you, you have it easy, the others weren't as easy as you. They were blown to bits, left bloody and-,"

"MR STYLES!" A loud shout comes from his cell door

Harry's hand immediately drops from her neck and he steps back, eyes wandering to the door. His chest is heaving as if he had just run a marathon. The doors open and a guard walk in, taser in hand. The guards eyes fall on the thin girl, curled into a helpless ball against the wall, silently crying. Harry laughs, before turning back to his bed.

"Not so fast Harry, Savannah get back to your cell. Harry, you're coming with me,"

"the hell I'm not!" Harry turns back to the guard

The guard is storming over to a shaking Harry and Harry kind of has to thank himself with a smirk with his all to fast moves. He throws a good left hook into the man's jaw, causing him to stumble back a few spaces. Harry licks his lips, excitement, adrenaline and rage throwing throughout him. It's his first fight in a while. After he had just gotten out of solitary confinement 4 days ago after harassing a nurse that worked here. He also has to thank the officers for throwing him into an asylum with the best gym equipment. Twice a week, he'd be escorted and he'd have a session of pure sweat and hard work. His strength, stability and speed was at it's ultimate high by now. Harry pushes his curls out of his eyes, before grabbing the guards collar and throwing him head first into the hard cement floor.

"You think you're all that, but you're fucking nothing," Harry spits, hands still clenched around the males collar.

The guard smiles and lets out a weak chuckle. Harry frowns, obviously confused before he's paralysed. His eyes bulging out of their sockets almost, his body frozen, muscles constricting and jaw clenched so hard, he might shatter his teeth. He falls to the floor, unable to control the vicious shaking off his body. His nerves are on fire and he can barely breathe. He clenches his hands, and his leg muscles lock, so he's just convulsing and unable to move.

"FUCKING STOP!" He screams

It's relentless and he's screaming louder and he's pretty sure the obscenities he's using aren't ones not even the devil knows of. The unbearable pain lasts a further slow 10 seconds before his body falls limp and sweaty. He turns his head slightly, staring into the crazed green eyes of the woman that he was just about to strangle to death.

"that's how you do it," She laughs

"I swear to fucking god!" He trashes against the restraint of the guards arms

There's two of them now, and they're holding his legs and arms. Harry doesn't give up though. His legs are kicking as hard as he can, and arms are flying, and he even gets a few solid hits in before he sees the needle being pulled out of one of their pockets. He tries to kick it out of their hands and lets out a maniac scream as it pierces into his thigh, his sight turning white in the corner. He fucking hates needles. He tries to thrash but it's within seconds his arms relax and he stares at the ceiling as it blurs out. 

(A/N- Um I wanted to try something different. I really like the show American Horror Story: Asylum. and the thought of a really sick, twisted, angry and sexy Harry makes me really jsrkLAJSMFKGfm AND I KNOW LOUIS ISN'T THERE YET.  but the plans I have for these two heheheh. and ziam <3  but yeah LOUIS ISNT THERE BUT IN THE NEXT COUPLE CHAPTERS HE WILL BE. I PROMISE. idk if this is even good though, so yeah. just tell me what you think)