DEVIANT [H.S.]

23 - The Devil

Do you ever get the feeling that something is missing? Like there is this tug-of-war in your mind that keeps reminding you that something has been misplaced? Either a memory, a thought, maybe even a song lyric? You try your best to remember what it is, but you can't think of anything?

I think that's how I'm feeling. Only, I'm not forgetting a song lyric or memory.

I'm forgetting what it's like to have Harry. To be with him. And I'm scared as hell.

I haven't kept track of how many days it has been since Harry has been in Isolation. It's been days... I just haven't bothered to count.

In my head, everything seems to be sorted out by date. This happened then, this happened there, so on and so forth. Going through the motions to numb out what I'm actually feeling.

I can't, however, bring myself to think about Harry and I. If I do, memories brim to the surface in the form of tears.

Malachi knows this, so he keeps me away from helping Harry day to day. The most I can do is watch from the outside.

I need clarity. Peace.

Peace is what I have been lacking for the past weeks. I have had my ease shaken up by so many situations, and now that I think about it, I haven't had time to do anything for myself. I've been so concerned about others that I've neglected myself.

I do my best to not think about Harry as I take the elevator up to the lab. I'm too fragile to walk up the stairs and pass the Isolation Hall, seeing Harry in his room. When I pass by the lab, I see the smeared blood on the floor from when I shot Caleb.

Caleb. I don't know where he is. After our confrontation, I have shared no remorse. He deserved it. I'm not even sure who he is to me anymore.

My feet carry me straight to my room where I land face down onto my bed.

I am tired and worn out. A truckload of bricks has unloaded itself right on my spine, and I don't bother to rise and try to shake off the heavy feeling. I roll over, watching my chest heave up and down in deafening silence.

Everything needs to be clear. I need to understand it all.

Behind it all, there's Jeriah Vaughn.

Jeriah is a stranger to me. He always has been and he always will. I've never felt love towards him; I held respect for him, though. He is in a position of power that is envied and entitled, and for a while I felt it was my job to act the same.

Jeriah never cared, never showed signs of emotion with me. Amongst all the yelling and arguments, there was a void between us. I am the poster child of the Protector Core and he is the founder of it; the division is staggering.

And now Jeriah Vaughn, the man who raised me, is accused of being a murderer. A threat. In Harry's words, he is the devil.

Jeriah is waiting for me to come out of hiding. I am the only one that can get close enough to find the truth, to learn his motives for the Protector Core.

For everything to be clear, I have to find the answers myself.

I slide off of my bed and get dressed, wearing all black for the cover of night to camouflage me. It's a fight to move, but I do so.

I hurry and grab my gun from my bedside drawer and tuck it in my back pocket, taking the stairs down to the Sphere.

I find the door Harry took me to the night I begged for fresh air, and ascend without a second thought.

Heading up to the surface isn't always frightening; Harry showed me that. Right now, however, is an exception. Before I know it, I am stepping into the abandoned halls of the Parliament building, its bombed ruins a reminder that I can't mess this up. I can't be seen.