Annabel [h.s.]

epilogue

Author's note: And finally, we have the epilogue. Sorry that took so long! Hope everyone is doing well! Enjoy <3 

The metal table is cold beneath his hands. He's been waiting in this room for what feels like an eternity and he doesn't see the point. All they have to do is send an officer in and he'll start talking.

Already, his fingertips are bleeding. Left with nothing other than himself, he's been picking at his skin like dried glue. He's got no idea why they haven't handcuffed him yet.

Someone accidentally leans on the speaker. "...don't understand why he'd turn himself in..."

The voice is gone just as quickly as it slipped through the speakers and flooded the room. Harry continues tearing at his fingertips, "I'll tell you why if anyone decides to actually come in instead of discussing amongst yourselves."

All he's able to think about is the look on her face. Hardly anything else permeates the memory as he waits for someone to open the damn door. For people who are worried about him getting out and going on a spree, they sure as hell aren't doing their jobs very well.

He's too busy thinking about what he's done and he doesn't notice the detective until he's sitting directly across from him and speaking in words he doesn't understand. Everything sounds foreign and crammed together.

Emerald eyes stare blankly at the man opposite of him, "What?"

"I'm having trouble understanding why you would turn yourself in all of the sudden. Why her? Why was she the catalyst?"

I love you...

Harry shakes his head and lifts his hands to pull at his hair. "She wasn't the catalyst—she was everything."

Papers shuffle on the metal table and a pen scribbles his response. The detective's eyes are as cold as the table.

"She was everything and I killed her. I killed her."

Detective Tryst leans forward on his elbows, "What's the real reason you turned yourself in?"

Bloody hands smack the table, the sound echoes in the small room. "I just told you! She's the reason! I didn't care about anybody else. Just her."

Harry grits his teeth and leans back in his chair, fingers clenched tightly atop the table. He's already told himself that he's going to tell the absolute truth today. If he can't have Annabel, there's no point in covering his tracks anymore.

"Was your marriage to Annabel to cover your tracks?"

"No."

"You loved her?"

"Yes."

Harry's tearing into his fingertips again. More scribbling. More useless questions that he's already answered when he walked into the station covered in blood and turned himself in.

"Mr. Styles, were you aware that your wife was pregnant when you killed her?"

All motion stops. Harry's lips part as his eyes grow wide. "I...she...she was pregnant?"

Detective Tryst licks his lips and flips through one of the several files in front of him. "Eight weeks, according to the medical examiner."

Annabel laughs as his nose tickles her skin. He's in a good mood and tonight has become far more playful than either of them expected.

"What happened to your earlier anticipation?"

He smiles and continues trailing soft kisses between her breasts and down her stomach. "Still there, just want to enjoy this. We've always rushed into things, want to take my time loving you."