lemon's curse h.s.

twelve

emmalyn.

(third week of october)

Harry dropped me home that night.

As soon as we both sat in the car, he removed the gun from between his belt and jeans and tossed it carelessly into the backseat, observing me as my eyes followed the movement of the gun until the deadly weapon rested calmly behind us.

I quietly did my seatbelt while he started the car, the only sounds surrounding us being of the low engine and the world outside the trapping car.

I hadn't bothered asking him where he was taking us, too scared that he would snap, and quite frankly, too exhausted as well.

I think tossing the gun away was his way of letting me know he wouldn't hurt me, or kill me, at the very least, because when I looked back at him afterwards, with his eyes still on me, his face conveyed a peculiar understanding of my predicament. He looked at me almost with remorse.

But it didn't last for more than five seconds.

Nevertheless, knowing that provided me with enough comfort to stop caring. I didn't care about where he was driving towards or if he was still livid with me, and he didn't bother giving away that information as well.

I could tell there was something else on his mind from then on; his eyes were locked on the road ahead for the entire car ride, and from the way his hands tightly clenched the steering wheel everyone once in a while, arms flexing and tensing every other minute, the tattoos colored on them stretching as they did so, it became obvious he was in deep thought.

Both of us sat in complete silence the entire time. It wasn't even awkward or tense or strained like you'd expect it to be after our... situation at the police station. We were both just so lost with in our own minds, too disappeared in our own invasive thoughts to pay attention to anything else.

My heart barely fluttered a beat when I saw the familiar, golden, lit letters of the library I worked at - the only confirmation I needed that we were, in fact, headed towards my home. Yet, I barely felt any excitement or relief over the idea.

I knew that whatever happened that night didn't just end there, that it wasn't gonna end the moment I stepped into my apartment.

The more I had hoped to be left alone, to be left out of all of this mess, whatever it was that Harry was involved in, the more I got sucked into it.

That man, whoever he was, knew who I was and I couldn't point out why. I knew it bothered Harry too, that my name was passed around during his little... excursion, and he didn't have an answer for why it happened.

I found myself regretting even letting Harry give me a ride in the first place; if I had just fought him more stubbornly, given him a clear cut no, none of this would have happened.

Strangely enough, I didn't blame Harry for the most part. The visit to the police station had been as unexpected for him as it had been for me.

Of course, I wasn't defending his actions. What he had done to that man was beyond unforgivable. The way he had treated me too was entirely wrong within itself, especially when I had initially only defied his orders out of concern for him.