Faceless [H.S]

High Highs, Low Lows. 33

After that shower-- I didn't say a word to Harry. I didn't really want to.

I just sat quietly on the couch and waited for my sister, feeling an anxious feeling swirling in my stomach once more. It made me tap my foot anxiously, in a hopeful attempt to not bite at my lip any longer. I could feel Harry watching me from the opposite end of the coach, quiet as well. We were both quite stubborn and prideful, wondering who would break the silence next.

"I know you want to talk, Valerie," Harry hummed, initiating the conversation now.

I scoffed to myself.

"I know you have questions--?" He coaxed. I rolled my eyes in defiance. Although true, I just was overall embarrassed from what happened.

"You just watched me--"

He leaned over in the seat, elbows planted on his spread knees. A small grin on his lips. I stopped speaking. I took in a deep breath, tilting my chin up--cheeks hot.

"I did watch you, but given by the maroon in your cheeks..." he said, slowly, "you didn't quite mind."

I blinked, rolling my shoulders and rising to my feet, arms planting on to my hips. "So, did you mean everything you said the other night?" I shifted the subject. "In the kitchen?"

"Yes." Harry answered, softly. "Every word."

"And when you say you're not right in the head--"

"I mean that I have a lot of things that go on up here that don't make me feel normal," Harry pursed his lips. "Mentally ill, even."

I wanted to chuckle at how calmly he said it, but I didn't want him to think I was laughing at him, because I wasn't. It took a lot to admit that, I could tell he seemed to regret saying it.

"So, do you want to kill me, or--"

He shook his head, shutting down entirely. "I don't. Maybe I'll explain to you more about that later."

"I have questions now," I furrowed my brows.

"And I'm not comfortable with saying more." His tone dark as he sat back in the couch.

"Fucks sake, your moods give me whiplash--" I said, sitting back down, rubbing my temples. "You said you'd answer. If I'm going to be here, it is the least you could do for me. After everything."

I could tell he didn't want to speak; the way his face turned into a grimace and his eyes solemn. He drummed his fingers along his knee and opened his mouth, then shut it. It looked like he had a hard time dealing with what he was thinking. I was curious, too much for my own good.

"My childhood wasn't the best..." He spoke. "I watched my mom struggle... I watched her get beat... I watched her suffer. He'd spend nights cheating on her, and she'd spend nights drunk to cope with it. I wish I could say the trauma blocked it off. That I didn't remember it. But I do, I remember it all too well. I hated seeing her so miserable. I hated watching him abuse her and I couldn't do anything. I was too young, too scared. I still feel like I failed her. When I got older, I would lock myself up in a room because she told me that she could take the hits instead of me. I still wish it was me instead. I would stay there, just... so numb. I wanted to inflict... pain on m'self, just to feel something other than that numbness."

My eyes widened.

"I started working really young just to make money, just to support her. I saved up all the money to get a flight from London--to New York. I wanted her to get away from him. I couldn't believe she agreed. Moved 'ere for a while. I met everyone, then. Joined Faceless. Got lucky when the bastard decided to follow us here... and his name was on our list."