babylon » h.s.

Journal Entry Twenty Three

Journal Entry Twenty Three

Although my prior thoughts have been compromised, I still continue to write because if I did not, I would certainly go mad.

I can't be mad at Allison for finding my thoughts. Hell, I think I wanted her to find it so I can rid myself of this secret once and for all. The more she knows, the more she trusts me. And that seems to be the only thing I value presently.

-H.

———

Harry looked at his reflection in the dew ridden mirror, his wet hair slicked back and away from his face. He sighed before wiping the fog away from the glass and rubbing a towel on his head. He stepped out of the bathroom, and walked into his closet and his eyes widened when he saw Allison on the floor, crouched in front of the box he thought no one would ever find.

"Why did you do this?" She asked quietly, not looking up at him.

Harry sighed and pulled a pair of boxers out of the drawer. He began to dress himself and look out the glass windows into the setting sun before finally acknowledging her question. He never prepared himself to answer this question; he always assumed the problem would take care of itself and he would drop the box off at his storage unit before anyone else could know. Oh, well.

"Was I not supposed to?" He simply stated, raising an eyebrow.

She looked taken aback. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"He beat you, Allison," he replied, throwing a white tee shirt on. "Was I supposed to sit back and relax as I watched Evan kill you slowly?"

"W-what? He didn't do that," she tried to deny it, but Harry could see the truth in her eyes.

He lost it. All those months of watching her try to cover up his abuse and her refusing to accept it now was the last straw.

"Even in death, you still paint Evan as a martyr!" He yelled, swinging his body towards her. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her closer. "After all this time you still can't get the truth into your pretty little head. Tell me, would you have fallen into my lap if I slapped you around a bit?"

Aliison jerked out of his grip and shoved him away. "Shut the fuck up! Stop it!"

Harry did not want to hurt her feelings, but she gave him no choice. "Allison—"

"How the hell did you even know he was hitting me?" She asked, her eyes ablaze. Then, as if she made some sort of revelation, she stared at Harry in disbelief. "Ha-have you been spying on me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, love," he replied with a scoff. "Most of our encounters were by chance."

"Most?" She picked up on the word, and Harry sighed before sitting on the edge of the bed. "I can't believe you Harry, you're fucking insane—"

"I'm insane for not wanting to see you get knocked around?!" He yelled, shooting up for his bed. "Shit, I don't regret killing Evan. There is not one ounce of remorse in my body, and I swear I would kill a thousand Evans just to keep you safe!"

"And you need to know that that is not okay, Harry!" She argued, clutching at her hair. "You do things without looking at the repercussions!"

"Because I lose my judgment whenever I think about you!" He exploded, losing his temper. "Tell me therapist, what does the tell you about how I think about you, if it isn't fucking obvious already! Just take the evidence and release yourself of me once and for all!"

He didn't wait to hear her response, he just needed air and to get away from her. All he could think and breathe was Allison. Allison, Allison.

He was almost outside the door when he heard muffled sobs coming from his bedroom. He was about to ignore them, when he heard a whisper.