A\N: This isn't the conventional HSM fanfic but I like it and hope you'll do too.

Chapter 1

The haunting of…

I relish in knowing the only thing separating us from them is the door.
The door is not even locked; should someone walk in they would see us.
See the three of us in the room, in a very interesting situation.

The room is dark and the flickering candle on the table provides a magnificent solace in me.

We can hear their dancing on the dance floor from inside the closed room we're in.
We can feel their intoxicated bare- feet touch the hardwood floor and hear the sashay of dresses and loose belts sway across the room in unison with the music.

Their voices and the intonation of their laughter fills the room as Sheeran sings about the mysteries of how people fall in love.
Sheeran, she likes him; she said once she could close her eyes and listen to his voice all night. I told her to close her eyes and listen to my voice.
She laughed and said no, so I held a gun near her head while she was sleeping. She never woke to see me there. She only turned and her beautiful face
looked my way. I pushed the gun on her forehead and asked her to dream about me.

Now I see that same beautiful face staring back at me only with petrified brown eyes. It angers me when she looks anywhere but at me, and she knows that.
She knows that I love her more than my own family.

I see Grant Hill standing where I told him to, I like how obedient he is. He's very ill-mannered in any given day but for some reason when I point a gun to his head he's quiet and compliant, interesting.
I almost like the guy now.

But since he's always been horrible to the girl I love I have to kill him.
I have to kill him now. The idea of killing a college student at a party with the door unlocked in the A.M almost makes me smile, almost. I aim the firearm and just before the trigger goes off I hear her screams beg me not to.

"And?"

I open my eyes and remove myself from the situation and turn to my fellow inmate, "He's dead"

Then she woke with the blood spluttered all over her face.

'EIGHTH COLLEGE STUDENT MISSING'

It was the second day of summer and the power was cut again.

The streets were dark and empty and the city was experiencing emergency power cuts to conserve electricity. Power was cut for six hours at a time and those who did not prepare for the crisis were stuck in total darkness. Those who simply did not have a candle had to stay in the dark.

Eight missing people had been reported missing in the past power cuts. People were kidnapped or reported missing every time the electricity was gone. The citizens were unnerved and scared because even those with high end security were affected, Grant Hill, the Sheriff's nephew, being the latest.
It was still dark out and the candles around the small house were now almost waxed out.

Down the corridor in the bathroom Gabriella shoved her bloodied clothing into a black plastic bag and tied it shut. She walked to the sink and washed her hands, her arms, her chest and her face. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were large and bloodshot and almost looked like Hill's blood had spurt in them. She tightened her grip on the sides of the sink and lowered her head. She slouched her shoulders and the tears started down her face. Then a sob left her and she lifted her hand and covered her mouth. She walked to the toilet and sunk down beside it. Covering her mouth she cried as quietly as she could.
When her sobs conduced uncontrollable heaves she lifted her feet and bent her legs and sunk her face on her knees, with her hands covering her face.
All she could see was his dark haunted eyes. His stare blaming her for the death of the person he had killed.
The person they had killed, he would say. Had she killed Grant Hill and Jennifer Langley? Though eight people were reported 'missing' she had only witnessed him kill two people.

All she could have done was visit him in prison like he had requested and Hill would still be alive but out of fear she had refused. He had asked and threatened a life and she had said no time and time again. Was her refusal to be compliant the reason for Hill's death?

When dawn crept that morning all she wanted to do was scream and shout but in doing so she would wake her boyfriend.
He already wasn't getting enough sleep because of her. She always woke him when Jon Landau set her free after he involved her in one of his nightmare killings.

But she couldn't wake him up again.

She didn't understand it. How could Jon do it? Could they share a dream, could he actually kill people in his dreams?
Why would he show her such cruelty?

Maybe she was just too weak, too fragile to not shatter in his presence, she felt lately.

Though he said he felt it he didn't seem to know what love was. His art obsessed parents abandoning him for some experiment didn't help his understanding of the emotion.
She regretted ever professing her love for him once upon a time. She regretted her naïve schoolgirl attraction towards his mystery, towards his surprise spontaneity, towards his love for adrenalin and danger. At the age of fourteen she had quickly forgiven his known flaws only because he was the first boy who looked at her and honestly proclaimed his love towards her. In her adolescence she had given herself over and over to him. He was her first love and now at the age of nineteen he was her biggest fear. He simply refused to let her go.
She wished they didn't share the one thing that would tie them together for life.

She feared sleeping.

Sleeping was the only way he saw and communicated with her during his six month jail sentence. He killed those she knew because she wouldn't get back together with him, she wouldn't leave Troy and be with him.

She knew being with Troy put his life in grave danger but every time she tried to break up with him from a horrifying dream he always comforted her and kissed her, offering his shoulder and the whispering of a life together.

After her tears had subsided and the pain enlightening her with a solution she stood from her slumber and opening the medicine cabinet she grabbed Troy's razor and placed it near her arm. She deserved it. Eight people died because of a sick love, because of her inability to see someone's true evil colours even when they were magnified and spoke of their fragility in years to come.

"Don't do it" he said, standing outside the door.

"Troy," she wavered, her voice heavy, her eyes never leaving the razor on her arm, "he killed Hill tonight, I saw him kill Hill because I was too scared to go and see him. It's my fault. I deserve this".

Troy took a steading breath and fearing the closeness of the razor near her flesh, he hid his fear and feigned resolve, "Then maybe you should go see him".

She moved her arm and quickly took a few steps towards him, momentarily forgetting her task, "I can't go see him, he'll get in my head and I just want to shut it off" she turned back and pushed the razor blades across her flesh and cut through. The blood oozed out. Troy ran to her and grabbed the razor from her hand. "NO!" he yelled, "I'll go with you" he quickly uttered the words.

"You can't, he doesn't want to see you with me".

"We'll tell him if he really wants to see you he'll have to stomach my presence, he'll have to take it or leave it"

She cocked her head and sighed in desperation, "Why are you with me? You don't have to go through this"

"Because I have fallen in love with you, Gabriella"

She closed her eyes and moved away from him, "Don't say that,", she whispered, dismissing his words with her hand,"I don't want to hear that word anymore, it's killed too many people".

Shaking his head he walked passed her and grabbed a bandage from the cabinet. He cut a large piece with his teeth and headed towards her. "Then I like the way I feel about you" he said, his eyes never leaving hers as he rolled the bandage around her wound, "very much".

"I like the way I feel about you". She said with the knowing that no relationship of ten months deserved that kind of torment.

This music is driving me insane.

My cellmate Chilli is sitting on his bed gazing at the roof. He is probably contemplating the next two months until his release, just like I am, counting the minutes until I can see her beautiful face again. See the twinkle in her eyes when she sees my face as I walk out.

I know by the time I'm out she will have gathered her senses and left that washed-out Quarterback in the gutter. She'll be mine again.

The run-down music stops.

Wait.

I can feel her.

I can feel her near me.

I can almost see her vintage dress. She loved vintage dresses. I can feel her in the building. I can hear her voice from a distance away. Seconds and minutes pass until a guard appears to sight and tells me of a visitor.

She's here. She's finally here.

The roommate looks away from his reverie and looks my way with a disinterested gaze. I've told him of her numerous times. The cell gate is opened and the guard is behind cuffing my hands but I can't feel anything besides the anticipation of seeing her after four months.

I walk with the guard behind me and one of them opens the door where visitors await.

We walk out and entering a large room I finally see her. I see her beautiful face looking around. Her hair is longer, and she changed her lipstick colour. She's not wearing a dress. She's not wearing a vintage dress. She has jeans and a top on.

Why?

The guard leads me towards her and now in my view I see him sitting beside her, holding her hand on the table. There's a bandage around her arm. She's hurt. He hurt her.

She's looking at him and not at me. I hate that, she knows I hate that.

Fuck him!

Thanks for reading guys :)

Tell me what you thought and if I should post more because I have so much planned for this fanfic.