Harry hasn’t spoke to me in over two days. He hasn’t slept in our bed and rarely made an appearance outside of his office. I tried on multiple occasions to go into the room but it’s been locked. I saw him cross over the living area from the kitchen from the staircase balcony and he didn’t look good. His eyes were so red I could see it from afar, and his skin was so white - almost as if he’d come down with the flu.
He’d locked himself in there for 48 hours now; hasn’t spoken to anyone. All the men in the house just rotated between outdoors and indoors, unsure of what to do next. It’d been quiet as burying Liam had taken a toll on them all, Emma only myself fore the boys didn’t know her, but they were still respectful. Word had made it’s way round that Josh was the one to attack on the drop and as much as everyone wanted to finish the war Josh had started, they were respectful to the fact no decisions as large as that could be made by anyone but Harry himself.
A wardrobe had been delivered early in the morning. It was a deep red wood with golden detailing. I spent most of the morning unpacking all my clothes and organizing.
Later in the afternoon I watched from the bedroom window as a tow-truck picked up all three of the SUVs and Harry’s Range Rover. Tom handed the man a bundle of money and he drove off.
Around ten o’clock I went into the kitchen and stood over the sink eating a bowl of cereal for dinner. I was so frustrated not seeing Harry, but it was my own fault. A fault I tried hard to suppress.
“Have you seen him?” I asked Tom while taking another spoonful of cereal. He looked up from his seat at the island across from me and shook his head.
“No. But I’m not particularly worried.” He said.
I put my bowl into the dishwasher and braced myself against the granite. “How could you not be worried?” I exclaimed. “Has he eaten? Is he even hydrated? I mean, we never even spoke about what happened to his shoulder. Is that being taken care of?”
“I’m sure he can take care of himself.” He muttered.
How could everyone be so nonchalant about this? I thought. I decided quick and I grabbed two water bottles from the refrigerator. I swung open the pantry and took the whole box of blueberry granolas and headed straight for his office.
When I’d reached the door down the long hallway I paused. My stomach and mind both began to churn. I was definitely concerned about him, but I was also afraid, nervous. I’d really done wrong by him. Especially after how much he opened up to me. He truly let me into his world, into his emotions and I did him dirty. Karma is a reality and my neglecting of information he deserved to know not only put a friend of his in the ground, but mine as well.
I knocked on the large wooden door and waited. I didn’t hear anything. Not even a bit of rustling. When I touched my hand to the door handle it pushed all the way down, it was unlocked. I gripped it and pushed the door in slowly.
“Harry?” I called softly. As I pushed it open all the way Harry came into view with his feet propped up on his desk, leaning back in his chair, eyes close; asleep. I turned around and shut the door quietly and then walked the long run to his desk against the back wall.
His desk look cluttered from a far and as I approached there was a strange odor coming from it.
A lump formed in my throat instantly as a mess of bags of powder came into view and a contraption that looked like a spoon bent over a candle. A syringe lay at the edge of his desk, near his hand that rested there. I dropped the food onto the chair in front of the desk and rushed around. Panicking and pushed his chair out and his feet, heavy, dropped to the floor bringing his body to slouch with him.
