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Chapter 14 - Harry

CHAPTER 14

"What?"

"You heard me." I looked at him in disgust.

"Why are you suddenly angry with me, what are you, bipolar?"

"Want to know how he died?" My glare was still fixed on him.

"Well, yeah I'm sure you're going to te-"

"His engine blew up on the way back from getting it fixed."

"Sam, I-"

"A Motor Repairs And Co sticker was all that was left of the burning car."

I could feel my eyes start to well up, tears forming slightly at the corners of my eyes.

"He's too old to be your friend, who was he?"

I waited a minute. The lump in my throat ceased to disappear and I started to cry little sobs that would be a lot better than the full on cry I was expecting.

"Remember you said about not knowing things being better than knowing?"

"Yeah..."

"Take that advice for yourself this time." My voice uncracked and I wiped the tears from my face, pulling myself together and appearing strong.

"You might as well tell me now?"

I paused, anticipating whether or not I should tell him why I knew Fred. It took me several minutes to decide, his patience wearing very thin.

"Are you sure?" I made out, making sure he knew I was desperate not to tell him.

"Yeah, spit it out already Sam!"

"Fred Butcher. Fred was my dad."

He didn't say anything for a while. Harry looked at me uncomfortably, trying not to say anything too soft. I was waiting for a response. Anything that would uncage me from my own throughts.

"Is that why your mom compared you to him? When making bad decisions?" He gulped a bit, unsure whether his question would sit well with me.

"To a t. She knew he was making the wrong decision going to that same place time after time, but he never listened to her. And now he's six feet under. You know, she nearly sued you, but there was not enough evidence to provide the court with proof. How'd you get away with it? That's my next question."

"We are just really sneaky about things. It's easy to make things look natural. Although no deaths were supposed to come of the con. We're not those kinds of people. I'm no killer. I wouldn't even touch a fly. I'm sorry about your dad, though." I could see him becoming more and more uneasy and he kept shifting his position. He pulled out a joint from his pocket, lighting it. It smelt foul.

"What are you doing? Put that out!" I nearly screamed at him. The smell of weed was now evident around the room, nearly making me gag.

"I smoke when I'm uncomfortable."

"Not weed though. Put it out." I commanded. I grabbed the joint from his hand and crumpled it in the ash tray on the table lying in front of the sofa we sat on.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked, looking a little angry. His pupils had dilated from the drug, and it obviously made him cranky rather than happy and giddy.

"Harry it's disgusting."

He glared at me for a second before throwing himself comfortably back on the sofa.

"I've got more questions." I said.

"Fire away," he sighed, trying not to sound annoyed anymore.