DIRTY BULLETS

chapter forty one

Song that sets the tone for the chapter ^ xx

I am losing all

Everything I've known

I am slipping down

Black and sinking holes

MY EYES GLAZED out of the windscreen ahead of me, the gentle song playing softly from the radio falling on inattentive ears. My knees were pulled to my chest where I sat in the passenger seat, my arms hugging them close to me in comfort while my senseless grip against my legs strained my hands white.

The atmosphere in the car was a foreign one, with Harry driving, neither of us had said anything since leaving the warehouse... since my breakdown.

I felt embarrassed by it, embarrassed by how I couldn't control myself, couldn't keep myself together. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop crying and Harry had continued to hold me for a long moment as I sniffled into his chest before eventually coaxing me into the car.

I know what I had just witnessed was viciously traumatic, but I couldn't shake the humiliation that straggled along from reacting so hysterically.

And what more, to seek comfort from Harry of all people? How deranged could I be? He played a part in why I sought comfort in the first place and yet I just collapsed into his arms without fight, and instead with relief.

That didn't sit right with me, not at all.

At the time, I know I felt so defeated that I didn't care about the hypocrisy and stupidity of accepting comfort from the source but now some time had passed. Now I just felt ashamed.

Letting out a shaky breath, my chin rested on top of my knees while I continued to stare at the blur of country road we drove along. All the tell-tale symptoms of a meltdown were there, pulsing headache, stingy eyes, heavy heart.

I was exhausted, beaten, just completely worn out, and I was sure my timid silence made that evident. Every now and then I would notice Harry glance toward me out of the corner of my eye, almost as though he was trying to gage how I was doing without asking me directly.

I don't think he knew how to deal with this situation, at least in the appropriate way but I didn't blame him. I was just grateful he was being sensitive at all instead of yelling at me to just suck it up.

I don't know what came over him to be a little more delicate in this case, but I didn't have it in me to question it. The distress and remorse of the entire thing was enough to drain the little energy I had within me.

Clearing his throat, Harry shuffled in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel as he felt around for something. I paid him no mind, keeping my hazy gaze on the sharp movements of the window wipers that fought against the rain as my thoughts still tackled one another.

Except a couple moments later I heard the smooth sound of a lighter followed by one muttered word.

"Here."

Lifting my head from my knee, I noticed his outstretched hand in front of me, a lit cigarette between his fingers in offer.

Looking over to him, my eyes met his, his forever-furrowed eyebrows narrowing his green irises while a stern yet sincere glint glimmered within them. His other hand was still wrapped around the steering wheel except something different was his tense shoulders and upright posture.

Any other time I'd observed him drive, he had always been so slouched and stretched out lazily but now his whole demeanour seemed stiff.

Letting my eyes flicker to the cigarette again, I let out a soft sigh before reaching out and taking it from him.