Doing Dirt {edited+completed}

Chapter 6

"First," Harry's voice began to shake, "my mother was murdered." I stared at him straight in his dazzling green eyes. My hand gets a grip of Harry's soft hand again, this time squeezing it tighter than ever. He turns his head away slowly, not wanting to come face to face with such a confronting event of the past. I can hear Harry wheeze as he breathes in and out, sighing profoundly. "I need to get past this, I can work it out. I have to tell you. I can't keep this inside me any longer. I need everyone to understand why I am like I am. And my reasoning for my past actions."

With that let out in the open, he continues his daunting memoir. "This tore everyone's heart apart. My dad broke down completely. He used to come home late, trying to spend as much time at work as he could so he didn't have to go back to a nightmare." "Nightmare?" I quietly hush in a questioning tone. "Yes" Harry replies with tears in his eyes. "W-what else happened?" I ask not wanting to know the answer. "So glad you asked," he spoke trying to cheer himself up, "My sisters ex-boyfriend happened."

Harry's eyes fire up, turning from a cool green to red, metaphorically speaking of course. He swiftly lets go of my hand and clenches his fist. His veins bulge out as he cracks his knuckles. "He had been a pain in the ass for a long time; couldn't accept that I was strongly against their relationship. He was such a jerk to her when they were together. He used to buy her with sweet cheesy lines. Every time, every time, he broke her heart he would come crawling back to her." Harry is almost speaking through gritted teeth. "Shh." I calmly reassure him that I'm here for him. My hazel orbits glare into his. The dimples come and go quite quickly.

"And the worst part of it, well not the worst but a bad part of it; she would take him back after all that he did to her. I felt sorry for her but at the same time I saw that she loved him. The one thing that I couldn't understand is how could she love a man that ruined her mascara instead of her lipstick?"

"Oh Harry," I speak in a low voice, "She should of found someone better, I don't want to be rude or anythi-" I was cut off by Harry's reticent voice. "That's what I told her; that she could do better than some dumb old fag."

Fire in the ice is probably the best way I can describe Harry right now. He wants to burst out in anger, explode, but he's playing it cool. "She didn't listen did she?" I ask in a sceptical tone. "No, she didn't. She soon regretted it. She regretted all the times that she had forgiven him, all the times that she had said 'it's ok'." A small gasp manages to escape from my mouth as I raise my hand up to cup my face in an attempt to not let any more sounds escape.

"She used to come home with cuts and bruises along her arms and legs. They weren't too big but I couldn't call them small either. I took care if it all. The good take care," Harry chuckles softly then resumes in a firm tone, "I washed all the blood off using damp cloths. The packets of Band-Aids I went through, the bandages." I sigh faintly then phrase a question, "I'm guessing she's older than you by no more than four years?" Harry smirks slightly and answers, "You guessed right, as always," we both chuckle for a while, "she's two years older than me, at the time she was sixteen and I was fourteen."

Harry twitches in his chair uncomfortably before resuming, "One night she came home with a red face from all the crying, black lines running down her face from the mascara. I ran downstairs because I heard the door shut and found her in such a mess." My eyes start to tear up. I can't imagine the pain of seeing someone you love in tears and broken down. I must have been awful. Harry's emotions and how he holds himself tells me that the worst is yet to come; there is more to this story. Heaps more.

"I saw that her hands were wrapped around her stomach, holding on the pain. The cuts and bruises on her arms were massive. It looked like as if she had been in a fight." A warm tear escapes my eye and runs slowly down my face. It drops and falls on the table making a small splash. I took her cold hands and sat her down on the couch. I quickly went to the kitchen to get supplies to clean her up, and a hot water bottle for her damaged stomach."

I tilt my head to the side a teeny bit and give Harry a warm loving look, "You're such a good little brother, always helping your sister in need." "I guess you could say that." Harry speaks confidently then pauses. I didn't want to be the one who broke the silence so I sit still and stare into his emerald eyes.

Finally breaking the maybe not so awkward silence, Harry resumes where he left off, "I cleaned up her cuts, cautiously wiping all the blood away. Carefully bandaging up her arms, I asked about her about why she's holding her stomach tightly."