Legacy // H.S

40.

'And sometimes you close your eyes,

And see the place where you used to live,

When you were young'

*

It will take 6 to 8 weeks for my wrist to heal. The doctors assume it will be the latter, on account of the damage the man did to it. He didn't necessarily crush the bone, but he managed to crack it in 3 places. Doctors couldn't believe the excuse I gave them, especially with the bruises on my skin. Eventually I told them I'd been attacked by one of the Rodolpho family members, but I didn't want to press charges so the police they called hardly had any use. Besides, every dead body was being removed and buried somewhere no one would find them as we were being seen to, so even if they did investigate, they'd find no one to question.

Niall seems to be finding it funny. Probably because he wasn't even there to participate. I could tell he was jealous at first. He's always enjoyed a fight; he acts like a child being presented with a football. But after a while, he decided to taunt me for the injury then decorate the cast with a delightfully bad portrait of himself. At least he kept it small.

Harry has been doting on me. I suppose he always does. It's how he shows affection, by keeping close. We made promises to each other long ago that we would protect one another, so it's no surprise anymore. Because of this, though, he hasn't allowed me back to the warehouse for the first week of recovery. Even though there is little that I could do to make my injury worse. He's a worrier.

In one of the spare rooms, he's set up a small shooting range. Each evening we'll train my left hand, and when he's not here I often find myself doing rounds, too. There's not much to do otherwise. I don't want to read books or watch TV, don't want to listen to music or even sit in the garden. I'm not sure I have an affinity for normal entertainment anymore. Not when I've seen the dramatics of reality.

Sometimes, I wonder if the people that make stories about these types of things actually know how true some of it can be. Have they experienced crime to this degree too? Or are they simply imagining things, hoping it will only ever be fiction? Perhaps there are insiders that help craft movies and shows and books, people that are readily available to feed this information to them. A person than can list all the ways someone can die, all the ways money can be stolen, all the ways gangs can control a city.

It's funny how desperate we are to have access to stories like these. How we beg production companies and writers for them, almost expecting a show or film to drop once a year. Crime is addictive, it's gory but fascinating. You watch it on the screen or read words about it and never once do you assume it will happen to you. There is distance, ignorance. The safety of imagination.

But then it does happen. You live through it. You become a part of it. And suddenly, those stories aren't as fun as they once seemed.

I suppose if it were only the heist that was happening, then the initial excitement I had about joining a team like this would remain. Perhaps there was some naivety guiding my decisions. Perhaps Harry always knew something like this would happen. 'Perhaps' is such a strange word, though. It only creates hypotheticals and regrets. Nothing can be undone; nothing can be changed. This is the path we are on, and we must follow it until the road stops.

The windows in the house are open, temperatures far too warm for everything to be shut. Even the back door hangs open in the kitchen, some music playing on the small radio in the corner while I prepare some lunch. Today has been too uncomfortably hot to train, so I've allowed myself a rest day. When Harry gets home, the temperatures will have cooled, and we'll be able to get an hour or two in.