Error. [H.S.]

12.

Harry.

Corruption seeps in with sinful silence, lurking in the devil's shadows for a cue to strike. Preying on innocent heart strings, the deceit takes many forms to banish purity from the soul, simply betraying the calmness that keeps a steady rhythm for a beating heart. 

Sultry exploratory between a ticking metronome introduced us before words had the pleasure of doing so. A proper introduction wasn't needed when rendezvoused thrusts took place of a handshake and pleas of deviant desperation sang out our names.  

That's by far the most favorable corruption.

Beautiful corruption stormed in when blonde curls were captured and held snug beneath my navy beanie in the midst of a snow fallen park, guards lowered by the tranquil trust that arrogance wasn't needed to have fun.

But the most devastating corruption comes with witnessing playful giggles and a sparkling smile get swept away by a storm of devastating tragedy. Light drained from Scotty's eyes in a fourteen second phone call, tears drowning out the connection we were building.

In my pursuit to wrap Scotty around my finger, Niall found a way to intercept without even being present. 

He was going to be a bigger problem down the road, I can feel it.

Tremors vibrated against the leather passenger seat of the vehicle, partially from the damp clothing cascading chills up her spine and the rest out of shock. Soft tunes pump quietly through the stereo, the station carefully chosen to lull her anxiety to a mellow pulse with coffee shop melodies. Words went unspoken, but so many bounced in my head. What do you say when someone gets shot?

"Fucking move." I grumble under my breath, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. The day I leave this filthy ass city and never have to drive behind a yellow taxi will be the best fucking day of my life. "C'mon!" I smack my hand down on the horn, blaring it to clear a passage so we can get a move on. 

"Yelling doesn't make them move any faster." Scotty broke her vow of silence, my beanie acting as a barrier between her head and the window. "Trust me, I've tried."

"I wasn't built for New York." My eyes scan my mirrors, jolting us over to the left lane in the break of the traffic. "Bye, fuckface." I toss up my middle finger towards Scotty's window as I pass the idiotic taxi driver. 

"Clearly." She swats my hand away from her side of the car before going back to studying her phone, impatiently waiting for an update. 

"Any news?" Unsure of really what to say to keep her calm, I fish for anything to break the silence. Figured talking is better than letting her spiral in silence.

"Nothing yet..." She tells me, tears welling up in her ducts at the mention. Shit.

"How long have you known each other?" I panic, searching for a way to divert the attention to a more positive place. The last thing I want to do is talk about Niall, but he clearly means something to her, so I can't be a complete ass to her right now. 

"Just a few years now. We met when he was competing for a job with NYPD and got close right after." Her chipped purple nail polish was under attack of her anxiety, her dominant index finger picking away at the weak spots. "Beck has always worked with him, so we really got to know each other through her. They're similar in a lot of ways, so for me, it was like getting another best friend."

"What about you and Beck?" Blue signage guided me down the bustling streets, letting me know which route to take to get to the hospital while Scotty shares their backstory. "I get the feeling she hates my fuckin' guts." Blunt words get thrown her way, keeping my observations honest.

Scotty almost caved into a smile at my choice of verbiage, glancing over at me. "Beck's going to be the toughest one for you to crack. She's got her way with reading people and stands by it."