Stitches

1.3

"Harry?" I asked, searching his face for some sign of what was going on.

"Stay here." His tone was low, tense. He gave me a look that screamed urgency, but my mind was already reeling. Stay here? He couldn't be serious. 

"Wait...what's going on?" I asked, my voice catching slightly. My brain pushing all the questions I want to ask to the tip of my tongue. Harry stalked towards me, his hand pushing against the small of my back, pushing me towards a door in the lounge 

"Piper, stay in here—" his expression brooking no argument "—and don't come out until I get you." 

The order sat heavy between us, and though every instinct in me was telling me to press, to find out what was happening, I could tell he wasn't about to explain. I could feel myself hesitate, heart racing, questions bubbling up, but he didn't even look at me. Instead, his other hand found my shoulder, guiding me with a firm insistence that left no room for argument.

"Who is it?" I managed, pulling back. My voice felt thin, almost shrill. "Why do I have to hide?"

"Just do it, Piper," he bit out, barely containing the edge in his voice. The sharpness in his eyes cut me silent, and I felt something freeze inside me.

"No you need to tell me—"

"Just shut up," he snapped, voice harsh. His gaze, usually guarded, was like a wall slamming shut. A wave of anger rolled up in me, colliding with panic. This was his house, but the way he was speaking to me, the way he moved me like a pawn... I didn't know if I should be more offended or terrified. "Not even letting me fuckin think" he continues half muttering to himself.

And just like that, he steered me into a room, his hand leaving me only once I was inside. I'm in a fucking closet. The door clicked shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock turning. I jerked my hand to the handle, yanking on it, but it wouldn't budge. My anger surged, overtaking the panic for a moment. He locked me in? Fucking stupid fucking asshole. I fisted my hands, every instinct screaming to bang this door down. But  hearing the sound of footsteps down the hall, the urge to stay quiet won over. 

I pressed my ear to the wood, listening hard. Distant footsteps echoed, steady and heavy, and then the door creaked open, followed by low voices.

"...lock," a voice I didn't recognize said, low and hard to make out. "You got me changin' locks for a girl, boss? A girl?"

A cold shiver ran down my spine. What was he talking about? The sound of Harry's voice, controlled and cold, drifted through the hallway.

"You better keep your fuckin voice down." his words clipped and harsh, like he didn't want this stranger to ask anything more.

I pressed closer, trying to make sense of the snatches of conversation slipping through the cracks in the door.

"Why, someone here?" The stranger asks 

The low, deadly note in Harry's voice as he responded made me flinch. "Did you do the job or not?"

A pause. "Yeah, the job's done. But you didn't answer me, though. Thought we don't do... loose ends." 

"My job, my risk. You just follow orders. No one goes near her. Got it?"

"Fine, fine," the other man muttered, his tone dropping slightly. The voices become louder, as I realise they're walking into the lounge, towards the cupboard door I've been locked into. The silence that followed felt loud, like both men were weighing everything unsaid. I felt trapped, part of a conversation I had no business hearing, but one that concerned me more than anything ever had. My mind spun, questions I couldn't even articulate hammering at me.