PULSE [H.S]

071

Wrapped around your finger, I was caught up in your orbit. - Post Malone

This life isn't normal.

Sometimes I feel like me and Harry are just normal people, in a normal relationship, doing normal things in a normal world. We go to parties, hang out with our friends, and make eggs for breakfast.

In our little bubble, it feels normal. It feels like we are a normal couple, like nothing is wrong and we aren't in any danger.

It'll all feel normal until there's a sudden reminder of the truth. A single moment will remind me that this isn't normal. None of this is normal. And then I remember we are on a drug cartel, and this normal life we pretend to live isn't real.

It's small things that snap me back to reality—the outline of a gun under Harry's shirt; the cuts on Harry's knuckles; his raised voice on the phone. His verbal reminder that I can't go anywhere alone because people are trying to kill us.

They all remind me that we won't have a normal life. We'll never be truly safe. We'll never be able to bring kids into this world because it's too dangerous. We'll never be free from this cartel.

I never imagined myself in a nice house with a white picket fence and a wrap-around porch with two kids and a caring husband. That was Rae's vision, and I always wanted that for her. There was a time I wanted it with her, because I wanted anything with her. But that dream was lost years ago.

I'm not sure what I want now. I don't want a normal life, but I don't think I want this life either. I want Harry, and I want him in any way that I can. But there's a big part of me that knows I'm not cut out for this life long term. I'd follow Harry anywhere, but this path might end up killing me, and it's scary to think about that.

I hear Scrappy meow, and it snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. It's lunch time for Scraps. I get a scoop of her food and dump it into her bowl, the food clinking against it. Somehow, the cat food bag is getting low already.

"Geez, how much does he feed you?" I say to Scrappy. I take her water bowl, washing it under the sink before I fill it with fresh water.

Harry walks into the kitchen, looking at his phone in his hand. He says, "I have to go to a club tonight for work."

"Why a club?" I ask him.

"I have to secure a deal with someone on Elias's behalf," he says, still looking at his screen, "I'll be out late, Clove said she can come over to stay with you."

I say, "Take me with you."

He shakes his head immediately, his eyes landing on me for the first time since he walked in the kitchen. "This is not a place for you, Kiz. It's too dangerous. And we're going to a club tomorrow for New Year's Eve."

"I'd be with you," I argue. "I always feel safer with you. If you leave me here, I'm going to make myself sick worrying about you."

He walks over to me and says, "I can take care of myself, baby." He twirls a piece of my hair around his fingers and then ticks it behind my ear. He says, "I won't be able to do my job with you there."

I don't like this. Any time he goes out for work late at night, he comes back either hurt or upset. I hate being here, waiting for him to come back, and not knowing if he's okay. It kills me.

I ask, "Who else is going?"

"The guys."

I bury myself against him, resting my head on his chest and wrapping my arms around his back. His arms wrap around me, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I hold him for a while, constantly worried that one of these times I will let go of him for the last time.