Petal [h.s.]

Chapter 29

Violet.

I walked into the apartment building around half past 10 in the evening. Finn had just dropped me off at the front door and drove off again after he had picked me up at the RSP after my evening shift.

My head was pounding and I felt like crying all over again when I remembered the conversation with Harry in the garden. I hadn't expected him to show up like that, especially since I had a feeling Ian didn't exactly want to see him right now.

I had spent the rest of the evening with Nellie, dying her hair a chocolate brown in her room upstairs while she chattered about everything and nothing. Nellie was never quiet, which I liked in certain situations.

It was obvious she had sensed the tension between Harry and I in the garden, but she had been nice and respectful enough to not say anything. Nellie was a very girly girl who was in her feels most of the time. Even though she had absolutely no filter, she knew better than anyone how sadness, disappointment and loneliness felt after being abandoned by her family.

I was slouching down the narrow hallways as I reached out my hand to twist the knob, my brow furrowing when I saw the door was already open a crack. My hand fell limply to my side as I stared at the slightly open door. I knew the lock was shitty and that the door was old and dingy, but Pierre and I made it a point to always at least shut it. We also always shut all the windows when we left, and there were no windows in the hallway, meaning there wasn't any wind that could've blown the door open.

Message to: Louis

Just arrived home and my door is open, like on a crack. Is this weird?

Message from: Louis

Don't go in. On my way.

When I read Louis' message I let out a breath, suddenly feeling stupid for bothering him with this. There was most likely a logical explanation, and the small shuffling noises that I heard from inside the apartment only confirmed my thought that it was just Pierre.

"Pierre?" I called out as I gently nudged the door open a bit, revealing the empty hallway that lead into the living room. It was silent in the apartment now, and I closed the door behind me as I stepped in further.

You know when you watch a horror movie and you're screaming at the character to not go into the dimly lit basement at night where the noises are coming from?

I felt like that character, but somehow I couldn't stop myself.

"Pierre?" I called again, slightly louder as my eyes darted over the empty living room and kitchen. I heard some shuffling from the left, from Pierre's room, and I saw the light peeking out from the crack of his door.

I hesitantly approached. "Pierre?" I repeated a third time as I knocked his door, my knuckles nudging the creaky wood open.

I gasped loudly when I saw the three figures in the room. Pierre was lying on his bed on his side, facing me. His eyes were wide open and lifeless, a stream of red liquid exiting his parted mouth as his midsection was covered in wet blood.

The gun pointed at him had a silencer on it and rested confidently in the hand of one of the two men in leather jackets. Their heads flicked my way when they heard my breathing.

Pierre was dead.

"Girl of the hour." One spoke, a thick Scottish accent lacing his voice. He had a large tattoo covering his bald skull and a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips. My feet seemed nailed to the wooden floor as I stood in the doorway, completely frozen as my eyes stayed trained on a dead Pierre.