The Bagman's Direction

Chapter 28

He was beautiful but he was crazy. He felt so right but he was so wrong.

"If you open the lid of your boxes, you will find the gently collected jagged stones I have been gathering over these past few years. You have two options. You can put the stones down and choose not to contribute to the justice.  I understand and I will let you go, no questions asked. Stoning isn't for everyone. Those who thirst for punishment of a cruel act that was not paid for, step forward, circle around, let out your anger and cast your stones. We will get out of your way and let humanity replenish" Harry happily shouted.

"Harry" I breathed and grabbed the side of his arm before he could move away.

He looked at me and I could hear the wooden doors slam inside his toxic eyes as he struggled free of my grip. Tara and Maria followed Harry out of the way, abandoning their victims as they squabbled on their knees. I had no other choice but to step away as the crowd drew closer and closer and started digging out their weapons from their pink coffins.

"He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone" The younger one screeched, tears fleeing from his red eyes.

"Fuck you!" A random man from the crowd cried in anger.

It was he who threw the first stone.

The others took no note either as the rocks came left right and centre to crash into the villainous victim's weak skin and break their brittle bones. I gasped so loud my lungs could've collapsed. I couldn't see anybody walking away as the stones were pelted at their bleeding, bruising bodies. I cringed when Maria started to help out and it broke my heart to see Liam pick up a stone. Tara laid back in the shadows, I knew she wouldn't like it. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to see if she was close to puking as well.

Instead of approaching her my eyes were greeted with something that distracted me. Harry had no stones in his rough palms and he wasn't even looking at the Game he had set up. His eyes were glued to the dust and dirt at his feet and his lips were dry.

Was he ashamed?  I was ashamed. I was ashamed of him but most of all I was ashamed of the people throwing stones. They were fighting fire with fire and they weren't going to stop until the two were dead. It was inhumane, it was morally corrupt. How could they find strength in their arms to keep punishing these men for something they did years ago and probably regretted?

Or maybe I was morally corrupt. Maybe giving the men a taste of their own medicine until they overdosed was the moral thing to do. Maybe Harry's definition of justice was moral after all. Maybe I was the twisted one.

I watched as Callum and Barry faded away into a mass of blood and smashed in skulls and snapped bones and discoloured skin. I watched as everybody inched closer, hoping one of their stones would hit the men and be the one that kills them. I watched as nobody in the crowd's face changed. They looked so angry, or maybe they were pumped, thrilled, adrenalised. I watched as my own best-friend smiled when he heard the crack of the neck of one of the men he hit when the stone he casted made impact. I watched my own nightmare personify.

I saw Harry out the corner of my eye. He was leaving. He was making his way around the bonfire and back up the hill. I thought I was the one who couldn't take it.

I chased him but his steps were fast. He was at the top of the hill before I was. He climbed into the van and sat at the driver's seat, staring out into space. I slowly stumbled over, observing him from the passenger window. He seemed so lost. He reminded me of a flickering light in a row of high beams while you're sitting for an exam in a hall full of students and it's so distracting and you look around to see if anybody else notices it but it's just you. It was just me and the flickering light.

I opened the door and hopped in, sliding into the passenger seat. I buckled in my seatbelt and looked forward into the fog and stars. I didn't want eye contact with him, it'd hurt too much. Everything I ever thought he was, everything I thought he'd never be, it was all a lie. It all comes back to murder and vengeance and hate and the extremes and that made me so sad.

He started the engine, strapping himself in and twisting the steering wheel. He got us back onto the road and then the highway. No words were spoken between us, just icy breaths.

I was still so mortified. Why did that happen? I understood that Harry had suffered their crimes but it seemed like such brutal payback. No, justice is what Harry called it. If that was justice then I hope to never be just in my life. If that was justice than I wondered what love is.

I curled up into a ball in my seat, trying to hold myself together. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. I held onto my knees so tight as if I'd come undone if I let go. I was cold and I was scared. No wonder he didn't want me to come, I guess I really wasn't ready.

It took an hour to get back home. It was the most uncomfortable hour of my life. I tried to go to sleep but the images of Callum and Barry sprawled out on the grass in mangled states before  a giant fire corroded my brain. I couldn't stop thinking of Daddy either. I couldn't stop thinking about his throat and the way Harry drained it. I couldn't help but picture Harry draining me of life as well. He was just so good at it.

We pulled off the road and into the forest. The familiar height of the trees easing the tension slightly. A fair way in we found the cabin and parked right in front of it. It was the first time I had seen the front of my home. It was a basic wooden logged, triangular roofed hut but it was so significant for me to see it. 

As the car stopped, the lights turned on. I didn't move as he tore off his seatbelt and licked his lips. I stared straight ahead as he twisted his body to face me. Out the corner of my eye I could see his eyebrows raised, he was waiting and I couldn't bite my tongue.

"How could you..." I muttered. "How could you do that?!"

"I think your trial is over" He bluntly spat.

I turned to look at him in shock. First the stoning and now this?

"Are you going to stay or are you leaving?"

I swallowed hard, tears lining my eyes. I hated him. I hated him. I hated him. I hated him. No, it was quite the opposite.

"I don't know" I choked, "I can barely breathe"

He nodded, keeping a straight face. He leant back, his back against the leather seat and one hand still gripping the wheel.

"Harry, I think I lo-"

"We should have a vent circle" He interrupted me and I swallowed my words.

"Okay?" I frowned.

Before I could question him further he  got out of the car. I groaned and slammed my head back into the head of my seat. What was I going to say anyway? My unconscious mind was leaking into my voice box and it almost took over.

I jumped when he knocked on my window from outside and when I glared at him he smiled and gestured for me  to hop out.

I stepped out and he locked the car, the light going out and darkness consuming us. He grabbed my hand and entwined our fingers, pulling me along the cobbled path to the front door.

I lied. It wasn't my subconscious or unconscious mind or anything of the sort. I knew what I was going to say because every time we touched the thought was revivified and I want to shout it from the rooftops. I'd been repressing it because I didn't want him to know but at the most inappropriate time, when my mind was filled with hate for this evil man, my mouth began to confess because my heart was still in this mess.

He unlocked the cabin door and we hurried inside. He stopped me before I could retreat to my room, before I could become a puddle of tears.

"Sleep. Tomorrow night I'll arrange for a vent circle. You can relax until then"

Sometimes I forgot that I was the colour and he was the rain.