Mirrored Exile (HS)

thirty three

chapter thirty three - bloodstream

Lucy Caddel

The next day, I was mentally tired. Hit by a truck kind of feeling. I had a massive headache. I sat up and walked over to the blinds, opening them to a dark sky. The rain pattered down the window, the drops racing each other to the bottom of the frame. Faint thunder rumbling in the background.

Today was October 31st, we only had one day till November 1st. I sat back on the bed and opened my laptop to the files, to see that the November 1st file was now missing. In fact, all of them are missing. The panic flushed down my body. I jumped from the bed and rushed down the hallway.

Harry was in the kitchen when I walked in. He looked up and saw the panic on my face. "What's wrong?" He asked.

I took a deep breath and pointed to my laptop. "All the files are gone."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean gone?"

"I mean gone, vanished, disparue." I rambled on as he followed me back to the room. My laptop was still open on the bed as I left it. He scans the screen with his eyes before a look of frustration flushes his features.

"Fuck, can you trace them or something?" He asks.

"I tried that, it only took me to this random site with codewords." I flipped the laptop to him again. His face fell seconds after the glare from the screen hit his face.

"Harry? What is it?"

"Those aren't just codewords, those are the FBI's." He runs to his bag and rummages through the stuff in it. Eventually, he comes back with a postcard. The writing is faint but fancy, with a photo of a large boat on the front. It has an orange sunset behind it with the land in the background creating the bay.

"That's this address." He holds up the postcard. To me, it's all unmatched letters and numbers. He notices my confusion before elaborating, "FBI codewords sorry, these numbers translate to this address."

"And who's address is it?"

"My parents'." His eyes say it all, the uncertainty of what this means.

"Then we have to go there, right?" I say, Harry looks at me. "Do you think it was them?" I ask. He just shrugs, I can tell he's not wanting to admit the possibility.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes the call. "Hi Samantha.... yeah we're fine, she's with me now.... No, we aren't... Where at? .... Okay.... What time? .... Okay, see you soon."

"What did she want?"

"We have to go see her, now. Go get ready." Harry dismissed me and walked to the door.

"Wait- Harry, I don't think we can trust her."

"What else can we do? If we don't go, she'll know we know."

"So you don't trust her either?"

"Look, I don't know. I'm still thinking about yesterday, so let's just get this over and done with." He puffed a deep breath and walked out of the room.

I gathered my things that had been shoved into the corner. The inside of the bag was messy enough just on its own. To be honest, last night's incident was still imprinted in my head too. I decided to give Harry the benefit of the doubt and suck it up. I blew out a ragged breath after pulling on my shoes. I walked out the door and down the hallway. Zayn was on the couch drinking coffee and reading a newspaper.

"Morning." He nodded.

"Morning, Zayn." I smiled. I glanced at the newspaper as I walked past. To my surprise, the front page was about what had happened last night. In big bold writing, it was referred to as "A Scare at the Art Show" - my heart sank.