Orphic//H.S.

Chapter 09

//sorry this is super short, I was having really bad writer's block...vote and comment<3//

Harry

"Leave? I'm not leaving you like this. What the hell is going on, Toni?" Everything was going fine before we entered the apartment. But then she saw the note and now everything has gone to shit.

"Harry, get out. I need to think." The troubled look on her face is almost clouded by her utter rage. What was in that note? She runs a hand back through her hair and huffs out, pacing back and forth in her entranceway.

She's stressed, I'm stressed. We're both confused, obviously, but I want to help her if she would just tell me what's going on. I reach out and grab her arm, stopping her from pacing a hole through the floors.

The bewildered look on her face is enough to tell me that that was a mistake and I quickly drop her arm. Luckily, it stopped her from pacing, but the wild look in her eyes tells me this is a lot worse than I thought.

Did it have something to do with Sam? Is that what the letter was about?

"Toni, hey, you need to breathe before you work yourself up. Just let me help, please." I'm trying to ration with her. She doesn't know who I am, and I'd like to keep it that way, but if worse comes to worst, I'll use it as an advantage. She needs to know I'm here for her, even if we are practically strangers.

"You don't know what the fuck I need, Harry," she spits. "Get the hell out of my apartment before I call the police on you." The police? For what?

I'm completely lost. What made her turn so quickly? I watch, stunned, as she storms towards her oven, standing on her toes to reach into the tall cabinet above the stove, and pulls out a bottle of clear alcohol.

In one motion, she pops the plastic cap off and brings the large bottle to her lips, drinking at least three shots worth in her one sip. With the bottle in her one hand and that damned paper in the other, she frantically reads over the words again while pacing back to the counter where I'm standing.

"Toni, I'm not leaving you right now. You shouldn't be left alone if whatever this is is driving you to drink. Let me help, give me the paper." I'm practically begging at this point, but she needs to get it through her head that I'm not going anywhere with her like this.

Her crazed eyes rip from the note, the fire in them blazing directly at me. I'm definitely fucked. Well, I was fucked the minute I walked through the door and caught sight of the pistol on the countertop. I'm not going to question it, I know who she is, so I'm not surprised. It's still a little disheartening though.

"Get out. Now. You don't know who I am, or what's best for me. I don't need you here. I don't need your help and I certainly don't want it." Worse has come to worse.

Julian's going to have a field day when he hears about this fuck-up.

"I don't know you? Really, Antonia?" Her bright eyes shoot to mine, full of her burning rage that has been slightly dimmed with what seems like hurt and confusion.

The pain is quickly covered, her strong facade bringing up her walls again. "What the fuck did you just call me?" I don't miss the way she edges closer to the spot on the counter where the gun lays and I know I've just fucked up my only chances.

"Antonia? That's your name, is it not? Antonia Sistine?" Keep digging your grave, Harry, just keep going. If she doesn't kill me first, Julian definitely will.

Before I can even blink, her arm shoots out, dropping the glass bottle to the counter and wraps her fingers around the grip of the gun. Her other arm grabs both of my wrists and pins them behind my back, which she uses to push me down against the counter.