The Day After Tomorrow (Still on Hiatus)

Day Four

Day Four:

I don’t understand Harry. I mean, he’s confusing, and just as clueless as I am.

Ever since the kiss, we just haven’t a clue on what to do. I try to get to know him, but it’s a brief description. He’s very secretive about his past, but when it comes to me, he has to know every single detail.

“Where are you from?”

“What was your mum’s name?”

“How old were you when the war started?”

Today, the next day, has been nothing but long. I’m pretty sure it’s not even noon yet, but it’s been one hell of a day already.

Right now, I was applying more aloe to Harry’s wound that I caused (but in my defense he looked like he was about to murder me), and chuckled when he winced repeatedly.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He asked with a huff, looking up at me confusedly. I finally gave up trying to hide my laughter, and eventually just burst into hysterics.

“It doesn’t even burn that much.” I laughed, and Harry didn’t even crack a smile.

“It was extremely painful, thank you very much. You fucking dug that shit into my arm!” He huffed cutely, making me smile softly. For some reason the feelings aren’t hard to let in anymore. It feels like a weight was lifted off of my chest, letting me breathe properly.

“You are such a baby.” I joked, smirking slightly as I finished, rewrapping the shirt strips around his arm. Harry’s icy glare evident as I began to feel it burn through my back when I turned around—which was actually quite funny if you ask me—choosing to ignore it.

“Hey! Look at me when I’m glaring at you!” He groaned, and I couldn’t help the giggle that left my lips. He sounded like a little kid throwing a tantrum for not getting his way.

“Harry, act like you are ready to kill anything at any given moment, will you?  Razors, and/or Rippers, definitely won’t believe that I can kill, so you are our only hope.” I scoffed, tying the shirt pieces together, and stepping back.

Only he didn’t let me step back. Before I knew, he tugged me back to his chest, a small noise leaving my throat as my hands pressed themselves against his chest.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty scary.” He muttered his lips inches from mine, before he pecked them slowly. I cupped his face to pull him closer, feeling this type of hunger spread through me.

It’s been happening for a few hours—ever since we kissed yesterday, really.

The hunger inside spreads every second, and I find myself being pulled closer to him, and wanting to feel his lips everywhere on my body, and I get this shiver. Like, I can feel his breath hitting different places on my body, and every time my cheeks flame up.

This isn’t what I had read about in fairytales or romance novels. This is something more serious, and more…

Dark.

Don’t get me wrong, I know these are the hormones talking (I’ve had my period long before the war—-which is hard to cover up if you understand what I am saying—so I was known to the side-effects to puberty.

But this was still weird and I still hated it. These feelings are still so foreign, and it’s hard to name them when so many come at once.

Suddenly, I heard a noise, which made me go into survival mode. I yanked away from Harry, looking around for the source of the noise.

“Kyla,” Harry said, like he knew what that noise meant, his voice low with warning. “Kyla, grab your bag, and run.” He added. I frowned, and looked at him.

“Harry, I’m can’t leave you beh—”

“You can, and you will. Go, Kyla, and go now.” He snapped, and I finally heard a loud call that I had run from my entire life.

Rippers.

I screamed as something suck into my skin, bringing a small pang to it, as I slowly began to feel woozy.

“Kyla,” Harry yelled, rushing towards me as I wobbled back and forth until I stumbled back into his arms.

The Rippers were people with many “talents”. Have you ever seen one of those movies where people were in a jungle, and they ran into these “Indians” of some sort, and they were shot with poisoned darts?

That’s what the Rippers had. They would shoot women (and some men, I don’t even know why) with these darts, that they dipped in some drug they found from a plant that can knock you unconscious—and not peacefully either.

“H-Ha,” I stuttered, finding it difficult to make just one sentence. Harry swept me into his arms (not forgetting to grab my bag) as he ran away.

And I don’t remember much after that. I blacked out and I am quite scared to ask Harry what he went through after I did. I mean, can you imagine having to run from people with poisoned darts, while carrying a girl who probably weights more than 115 pounds?

Doubt it was that easy, to be honest.

“Kyla,” I heard a voice muttered, as my eyes slowly began to open, wincing as the sun burned my eyes. How long was I out?

“A few hours, maybe a little less; you haven’t been out that long, so that’s good.” Harry said, smiled weakly down at me.

Shit, I must have said that out loud.

“I didn’t know Rippers came on this side of town?” I groaned, rubbing away the dull ache that began to throb more by the second. Harry sighed, and rubbed his face.

“They don’t.”

“Then what are they doing here?” I asked, and the look he gave me was shut off, and completely unreadable. He looked like he had something to hide, and I was getting angry.

He’s been doing a lot of secrets lately. I know jack shit about him, and yet he wants to know everything about me.

One thing was for sure—Harry was hiding something, and by the looks of it, it was pretty big.