Twenty-three

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Chapter 23

Harry

I shoot upright in bed, screaming.

Another damned nightmare.

This one was about me getting killed again. But now I know why I dreamed it. In real life, I am being hunted. It’s the most terrifying thing to feel.

Needless to say, I’m afraid of dying. Especially like this.

By my father’s own hands.

Thank God it’s morning though, so I don’t have to lie awake all night or call Beth and tell her I had another one.

I get out of bed painfully slowly and wander into the kitchen to make some tea. I decide against breakfast; I haven’t been keeping my meals down that well.

As I sip my tea and check on the cats, I come to the decision that it’s about time I go to see my therapist again. I’ve been ignoring her calls and texts, but now I think I should go see her before I go even more insane.

I quickly text her, then a few minutes later I get a reply saying she’s free for ten o’ clock.

I shower and get dressed, making sure the cats are all okay, and then lock my door.

Since my car is still in the shop, I rented a car; which is something I really can’t afford but nevertheless need right now.

When I arrive at my therapist’s office, I take a deep breathe and walk in the door.

I’ve always hated talking to someone I barely know about something that isn’t any of their business, but right now I’m desperate.

“Hello, Harry,” Mrs. Campbell says as I knock on the frame of the open door. “Haven’t heard much from you lately.”

I shrug as a response, entering the room. She knows and understands that I’m a man of few words, so she doesn’t talk any more on that subject.

“So how have you been?” she asks as I lower down into the chair across from her.

I shrug. “Okay.”

“Tell me the truth. You look exhausted and frankly fucking terrible. What’s up?”

I sigh, and then lean forward. “Someone wants to murder me,” I whisper, as if someone else can hear me.

“Oh, Harry I’m sure that’s not—”

“Mrs. Campbell, with all do respect you don’t know what I’ve been going through this entire week and a half,” I cut her off.

She recrosses her legs. “You’re right. Enlighten me.”

I scratch the back of my neck. “Well, first of all, I’ve gotten like no sleep because of nightmares.” I chew my lip, trying to find a way around this without telling her too much. “And . . . Uh . . . this might sound really, really stupid but I-I’m being hunted by someone . . . I can’t tell you much, but I know who it is and there’s no way out of this,” I ramble, running a hand repeatedly through my hair.

She leans forward. “Wow . . .”

I sigh through my nose. “Sorry.”

“Can’t the police help?”

I hesitate, realizing I’ve just made a mess of this. I can’t tell her everything; that would put me in even more danger than I already am in.

“No.”

“Why not?” she pushes.

I purse my lips. “I can’t tell you.”

She leans back in her chair and nods a little. “Well, if you change your mind tell me, okay?”

I nod, running a hand through my curls.

I realize that all of this must sound like bullshit to her. It must make me sound like I am in fact insane.

My phone begins to vibrate violently in my back pocket and I quickly pull it out, knowing it’s Bethany. She usually calls me about this time. I chew my lip, silencing the call. I can’t talk right now.

“Who was that?” Mrs. Campbell asks.

I glance up. “Bethany,” I mutter, resisting the urge to smile.

She raises her eyebrows. “Who’s Bethany?”

I shrug. “A friend.” The smile still finds its way onto my face despite my efforts. I send a quick text to Bethany, telling her to text me, and then slide my phone back into my pocket.

“Oh, you have a friend now?” Mrs. Campbell asks, grinning.

I smile wider. “Yeah.” My phone buzzes again, and I know this time I should probably answer it. It must be important if she calls me twice.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Campbell, I, uh have to take this,” I say, standing. I wait for her nod, then close the office door behind me and accept the call.

“Bethany, what is it?” I ask into the phone.

“Harry . . . I . . . Sandy, she—”

“Beth, slow down Love,” I tell her more softly, adrenalin starting to pump through my veins.

“Zach . . . Zach found Sandy dead in her flat.” She sounds like she’s in shock, and it terrifies me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing it was bound to happen sooner or later, no matter what I did.

“H-Harry, there’s blood everywhere. Her-her blonde hair isn’t blonde anymore—” She sobs. “Get here quick, Haz.”

I swallow thickly, resisting the urge to dry heave. “I’ll be right there, Beth. I promise.”

“D-don’t hand up, Harry,” Bethany begs, dragging in a long breath audibly.

“I won’t.”

I rush to Beth’s side as soon as I reach her floor. She crumbles into my arms, sobbing for her friend.

I don’t say anything; what can I say? Her best friend has just been brutally murdered. What do you say to someone who is mentally shattered like this?

Her knees collapse and I kneel down as well, pulling her closer to me.

“Why her?!” Bethany screams, pounding her fists against my chest and digging her nails into my skin.

Tears come to own eyes, and not for the reason you would think. I’m crying because I deserve what she’s doing to me.

They will never find Sandy’s killer because of me.

“I’m sorry,” I sob incoherently. “I’m so sorry.”

____

I'm sorry . . . SANDY'S DEAD I'M SORRY :'(

But it had to happen so deal with it >:)

So I am literally writing chapter 40 right now . . . I am WAY behind on my updates -_- I'm sorry but it takes so DAMN LONG to type these out on here.

DONT FORGET TO COMMENT AND PLEASE SOMETHING LONGER THAN "THIS IS GREAT" AND "I LOVE THIS" THANK YOU ILY :)

(Monster by Paramore on the side. I fucking love that band.----------> )

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