CHARLOTTE'S POV

Today wasn't particularly a good day for me. It was raining, causing everything to smell different and the dirt to be mushy under my feet. My cell phone may have dropped in a puddle but it wouldn't have mattered since the impact caused the device to split into small pieces. Knowing that I had no insurance on the phone nor do I have over two-hundred pounds to buy a new one, I made the rash decision to buy a cheaper one the next day. The doors to one of the weirdest jobs I'd ever had opened after I slid my key card. The place smelled like it usually did, medicine. When arriving at the front desk, I spotted Liz. Her hair was pulled back into a braid and a necklace dangled around her neck, little make-up needed and/or used. "Morning," I greeted. She waved at me, not taking her eyes off of her novel, "Do you read that non-stop?" I asked, hanging my coat on the hook behind the desk.

"Yes. It's a tale of a forbidden love between a killer and a hard-working woman, now hush. It's getting good," she sighed at my quietness and folded the top right corner of the page, "why aren't you outside like everyone else?"

"What's outside?" I put the shattered pieces of my phone on the desk and sat down.

"A new patient. Apparently he raped and murdered five women and his lawyer was smart enough to plead insanity over death. I don't know, it seems a little weird to me." It seemed a little weird to me too but instead of sitting at my desk, I had to go see what she was talking about.

Upon arriving outside, I thought about who this man was. Crazy, of course, but was he hideous or gorgeous in society's point of view. I soon found my answer after pushing through many guards and patients to be at the front. A truck was parked in the circle and the man came out. He didn't look anywhere but down but I knew he was handsome. His jaw was clenched, maybe from the pain of everyone watching and two guards holding his arms as if he'd run away. He had green eyes from what I could see but they were dark and filled with hatred. Fingers were long and hands were folded but crushing each other to the point of white knuckles and popping veins. For a split second, everything froze, he looked at me. Only for that split second though. He descended up the cobblestone stairs to the entrance and I hurried back so I could check him in. "Oh, there she is. This is Charlotte. Char, I have some things to help Ms. Catherine with so can you check him in please?" I nodded to Liz's request and took her seat.

"Welcome to Navarro, name please," he looked up and opened his mouth to say something but didn't. Instead, he stared at me for a second, I have no idea why. My hair was damp from the rain and the curls nearly gone, my white uniform had a blood stain from an incident with a patient last month, and my make-up had to have been long gone. Yet, he looked at me with his green eyes and flicked his head so the chestnut curls would leave his eyes and forehead.

"Harry. Harry Styles," he returned from looking at the floor. Harry's voice was deep and gravely, matching his tall and intimidating figure. I searched extra slowly for his name, flipping the plastic covered pages and looking over hundreds of names.

"Ah, Mr. Styles. These lovely men will take you to your room and I'll bring everything you need," he nodded and was pulled along by Ryan and Preston.

Liz returned and sat next to me, "How was it?"

"Not bad, actually. He only said his name." She shrugged and pulled out her book, unfolding the corner and continued dragging her eyes over the words of lies. Sighing, I gathered all the papers I'd need for him. A schedule, rules, and any other bullshit this place spoon feeds to these poor people. He wasn't as crazy as most people here it seemed since he was in Ward B for the 'middle' insane people that still needed help. #247 was his 'room' number. To me they all looked like cells. When I stopped in front of the room, I tried listening for any sounds. Any punching of the walls, silent chanting of wanting to break free, or even praying. But I heard nothing. "Harry Styles, are you in there?"

He looked up from his bed, "Charlotte, right?" I could smell the smoke of cigarettes from in between the bars and coughed slightly.

"Yes and I've come with your papers. I'm just going to come in," I am still bewildered to the fact that they have me go into psychopath's rooms without any type of protection. No guard, just me and a murderer or a rapist or 'collector'. Either way, I felt unprotected and started shaking the keys when I unlocked the stranger's cell. I set the food on the floor and started to walk out.

"I don't bite, you know. But apparently I kill," the way he used 'apparently' made him sound innocent. But he can't be innocent, he wouldn't be here if he were but I couldn't share my thoughts due to the fact that I had no idea what he was capable of. Scratch that, I know what he's capable of, he's killed five women but I didn't know his mental capability and how much it would take to make him snap. It could take one word or one year but I'd like to not find out, "You still there, sunshine?" His nickname was happy but he wasn't. His voice was serious with a hint of sarcasm but I couldn't place where.

"Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I have your papers," I reached over and handed them to him and picked up the tray of food, handing it to him, "and your food."

"Thank you," he dismissed me and I took that as an opportunity to not stay any longer. After locking his cell back, I quickly walked back to the front desk, clicking my heels.

"You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Liz commented even though she still hadn't looked up from her book.

I took a seat next to her and ran my fingers through my mid-back length hair, "Yeah, peachy."

---

The clock stoke noon and I knew what time it was; lunch. Only for the patients though. I always attended their lunches because I knew the patients well, except for the new one. Harry. I spotted the top of his head on the other side of the room at the corner table, you could see and smell the smoke all the way from here and I followed the trail. When reaching the smoke, I saw him but he didn't see me, I don't think he really wanted to. "Harry?"

He barely looked up and flicked his head to the side for me to sit on the table next to him. Somehow he was smoking despite the fact his hands were locked together by handcuffs. I'd never had a liking to smoking, every time I thought about trying, I imagined my lungs slowly growing black over time, "What do you want?" His tone was harsh, voice still deep as before.

"Well, I normally get to know the patients well so I thought I'd learn more about you."

"You know everything about these people?" I nodded and he put the finished cigarette into the ashtray, "Who's that?"

He pointed at Margaret, "Margaret Porter. She killed her two sons after they stole from the local petrol station and buried them in the neighbour's backyard. The dog found them," he pointed at Matthew, "Matthew Johnson. He raped and beat his sister to death and killed her two month old child."

"Bloody hell," I nodded at his reaction. Harry slouched forward and scratched his cheek slightly before looking at me again, "I guess you do know everything. But you will know nothing about me," and he got up and walked away, leaving the ashtray, finished cigarette and his scent. How a person could smell so lovely in a place like this stumped me. I'm not going to say I love it here nor do I hate it but the smell isn't always the best. With medicine and whatever mush they feed to the people in the air, nothing has ever smelled good until Harry Styles appeared. Intriguing, I thought. Harry seems to be very closed when it comes to sharing which is why the next five minutes raised my day from the dead and killed it again. Ms. Hannigan called me over.

I followed the clicking of her heels to her office. Ms. Hannigan, the warden. She had some miles on her with wrinkled features that made her look twenty years older than her age of forty-three. Her hair was greying from stress and after she finally gave up her desperate attempts at colouring the hair to keep it lively. Her hair was lively but her spirit wasn't. Ms. Hannigan used to be Mrs. Davis but her husband mysteriously disappeared last year the night after Ms. Hannigan found that he wanted to divorce. The most wicked people say that she contacted the devil and wished him dead, even saying that she walked him to Hell and scraped her knees crawling back up. "Ms. Huntington, I'm sure you are aware of our new addition," she used her index finger to push up her glasses that hung low on the bridge of her nose. I nodded, "Good because I want you to be his therapist. You are the best we have in Ward B and he's a special case. Take care of him, Ms. Martin has your schedule for you at the front desk. Don't dally, the first session is in an hour." So right after lunch.

"Thank you, Ms. Hannigan," she nodded and waved me off. Either she likes me or hates me a little less than everyone. The walls seemed to get paler and darker every time I step through the front door everyday, especially today. Everyone rushed out of the lunch room by the time I got back and I even saw Harry as one of the last ones and I started walking next to him.

"Are you stalking me now?" He smirked.

I shook my head, bouncing my hair, "Nope. I'm your new therapist."

"Oh, splendid," he sounded as excited as I did when I was told that braces were necessary at age twelve. He allowed me to walk in front of him and on my way to our designated room, I grabbed my schedule from Liz who gave me a weird look but looked back down at her book. I love Liz to death but if there was an award for not doing your job, she'd win. The room previously had bright colours since this was used as a playroom for the children in Ward A before the hospital decided kids weren't a good mix with adults who'd murdered the youth.

I took my seat on the cushioned swivel chair behind a desk and Harry sat in front of me in a hard plastic chair. "We've already met so we can just skip the basics and cut right to the chase. How're you liking it here, Harry?" A small ripping sound echoed as I tore a sheet of paper from my notebook and prepared myself to write on it.

"I don't. In fact, I hate everything and every person here. Honestly, I shouldn't be here," he tried to be quieter when announcing that to himself but I heard it.

Noting this admission I asked, "What do you mean? Do you find yourself innocent?"

"Look here, if I say I'm innocent, you'll overlook me like you do with all the other nut-jobs here. Saying you're innocent just proves your insanity. I'm not saying I'm innocent nor am I saying I'm guilty. All I'm stating is that I shouldn't be here, end of story," a smart man he is. Manipulative probably, somewhat determined.

"Well, do you at all feel sorry for what you've done? The lives you've ruined of those poor girls and their families?" I tapped the pen on the hard wood of the desk, hoping for the answer I wanted to hear.

"No, I have no regret," I scoffed at his selfish remark, "maybe I have no regret because I never touched those women." A manipulator he is, indeed. I knew this because for a split second, I believed that he'd never laid a finger on the women. But I shook this thought away with the conclusion that Harry Styles is nothing but a demented, heartless rapist and murderer that deserves to be here in this hell hole even writing it in my notes.

"How do you do it? How do you control the female mind?" I tapped the pen yet again against the wood.

"For starters, I don't think I do. Today's society of women have a sick attraction to men who can do jack shit for them. Which is why I shouldn't be here because most politicians and middle to upper class people are as crazy as most people stuck in this place," he leaned back in his seat. What happened the next minute stunned me, forming a lump in my throat. He walked over to me and reached over, his curls brushing my face and slowly unclipped my ID from the pocket of my uniform. He sat down and examined it, "And I guess that's how I do it, Charlotte Huntington. That's how I control the female mind." After looking at the plastic for another minute, he handed it back and walked out of the room. Session is over.

I had no idea what had just happened, honestly. That's when I realized he wasn't just a manipulator. Pulling my notebook to the most comfortable spot I could find, I sighed. There wasn't anything I could find to describe the curly-haired man. Then, it came to me like a strike of lighting in the night sky. I scratched out most of my notes and left key words and sentences. Manipulator, able to seductively send into a trance-like state , and adding another to the list, has mastered the art of persuasion. That's how he did it, he persuaded them to follow him.

Notes

Elizabeth "Liz" Martin is Elizabeth Gillies cause I love her so much. This is just a Christmas Eve update and I might try to update some other stories of mine tonight because there are two days of the year I can't sleep on. The day before my birthday and Christmas Eve, apparently it's from excitement so to make time go by faster, I'm writing. I'm hoping to God this Hariana fanfic won't go down the drain like Habit and Trouble because like I said about the other two, I like this one. But I seriously like this one this time and I hope you do too, love you.

p.s. I added some onto the end to end the therapy session and I got so mad because I had a really good ending but when I clicked the submit button, it deleted everything... so yeah