Splashed

15 | Culpa

Culpa: guilt

Hey guys, late again, I know... This is a continuation of the back and forth thing I tried last week. I think it worked well but not as well as I would have liked. I'll edit fourteen in minor changes soon. Stay til the end of the chapter, I'm very proud of the last segment, and the character development.

That's all folks!!

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I had called his cell again, desperately waiting for his voice to bubble through the speaker, calm the storm of doubt within me. But he didn't answer, and Harris always answered his phone.

"Mara?" Cynthia had called, concern thick in her frail voice, "That phone's a privilege, I don't want you wasting the calls."

"You don't pay for them anyway," I deadpanned.

"And who does?" she asked, taking a hesitant seat beside me. This wasn't what I needed right now. Or ever. I needed to find Harris.

"My... friend," I mumbled, barely looking up from the phone, clicking his contact constantly and waiting for the tone to ring yet again.

"You mean your boyfriend?"

I shot up, momentarily shocked, "He's not, we're not..."

"You know I watch the news, especially when you're in it."

"Right." She wouldn't believe me, no matter how much I denied it. Another person Harris had fooled with the report. I was just so sick of the cover; I was almost used to it.

"But I don't mind, honestly, I'm actually glad you're making an attempt at normal life."

Her words should have meant something to me, but they didn't. I knew she wanted me to say something she could use against me, and I wasn't falling for it.

"Look, I'm really busy, I'm..."

"Looking for him?" she interrupted yet again, "Try his home address," she scuttled off the bed and towards the door, closing it slowly with a fake smile. She was being unusually chirpy, something I could barely tolerated, let alone today.

"Hmm, I don't know it," I replied, frustrated. Everyone turn I took had already been red taped, just for me.

"Phone book," she said finally, and the door clicked behind her. Not half bad, Cynthia. Not half bad.

...

But just three hours later, even the name Tanner made me cringe. Turns out Harris' last name was pretty common. Hell, it was pretty clear he didn't wanna be found. How long had I known him? And he hadn't bothered to give me his address? It wasn't worth it. Not at all. He was probably with his dad or something, I wouldn't put it past him not to call. He was human.

I threw the phonebook across the room in defeat, and slouched onto the bed, attempting to relax. I went to touch my mother's necklace, but in alarm I realized it wasn't around my neck. In fact, I hadn't worn it for a couple of days now. I shifted over to the chest of drawers, and picked it up, it was so lovingly familiar to my touch. Right now was the perfect time to remember her. Because no matter how pathetic the world got, my memories of my mother would always stay with me. She was the only perfect thing in the world, so the world destroyed her.

My phone began to ring in the silence, violent and desperate, commanding the peace I'd just surrounded myself with. I stood up in a jolt, remembering only one person had my number.

"Harris?" I almost shrieked through the phone.

"108..." his voice trailed off, rough and weak.

"Are you ok?"

"Main..."

"Harris?"

"Beach..."

He hung up wildly, and I grabbed a road map, hurriedly flicking through the pages, looking for the address he'd given me. I felt like such ass. He needed me and all I could do was complain. I scribbled the address on a piece of scrap paper, and pulled a shirt over my head. Then I ran out of the house, down the stairs and to the road, with my eyes stinging, and heart racing in anxiety.

...

"Harris?" I asked, giving his tired frame a gentle shake. His chin balanced on his temple, his head lulling, and I held my ear to his lips, to hear the quiet murmurs of a dream. Asleep, and the only way I could deal with him right now. Without the guilt drowning me. How many bruises could I have saved him in three hours? I couldn't bare to think.

But at least he was alive, I thought. Because the thought of losing him made my heart inexplicably break. It was a feeling I couldn't explain, like so many things that filled my little tortured land life. But he was alive, and for the moment, that was all that seemed to matter.

He began to stir, but I didn't shift.

"Harris?"

His bloodied eyes rolled over to me, half open.

"It was me whofound you, but I'm really sorry it took so long," the words slipped off mytongue unconsciously, but I didn't want to take them back. He nodded softly, acknowledgingwhat I'd said, and I slipped down and rested gently on his shoulder, swaying with him as he fell back into his doze.