Aftermath // h.s

Chapter 6

It was nerve wracking. Your hands shook as you sat at the detective's desk, Harry fidgeting beside you. He was trying his best to be supportive, but he could only do so much without exhausting himself.

You were lead back into a private room, a large black window giving an ominous feel. Detective Roland stood next to you, and recommended Harry step back to let you have the space and the time you would need to really make sure you had the right guy.

"Alright (Y/N)... when you're ready, I'm going to pull up the blinds, and the suspects are going to walk in, and line up. We're going to have them say a phrase, and you stop me whenever you need. Take your time alright?" she explained softly, but it sounded like an echo. You were ready.

You gave a slight nod, and the blinds came up. The detective pressed a small button on the wall and leaned over to speak into the speaker. "Alright gentleman, please step in."

Gentleman. Ironic.

Your felt your throat tighten as the men walked in one by one, standing in the police line up in the same outfit you had described earlier. Your mind began to spin around, and you needed to take a minute to close your eyes and try to control yourself.

"Will number one step forward and say the words on the paper."

The first man stepped forward. "Is this how you like it?" Not familiar.

"Number two?"

"Is this how you like it?"

Harry had his arms crossed over his chest tightly, watching you through tunnel vision. You silhouette appeared to shrink as you stood and watched these men, having to listen to the sick words that had been whispered into your ear the day you were raped. Harry felt a bubbling anger in his gut, the mere idea of his girlfriend being the victim of such a heinous crime twisting his heart. The unrealistic idea that he could take the pain from you and suffer it himself kept crossing his mind, but not all things were possible.

"Is this how you like it?" Number six, the last and final suspect spoke.

Standing glued to your spot, you observed those men in there, thinking and examining. Every memory was flashing through your mind, and you wanted so badly for him to be in that room.

"Number 3..." you whispered out, but you were sure. "It' number 3..."

"Are you one hundred percent certain," the detective asked, and you sucked in a sharp breath as you nodded.

"I am... I... that..." you sputtered out, feeling Harry's hand slip into yours. Your hand gripped onto his like a vice.

"It's okay..." he reassured, moving to stand beside you, a hopeful and proud smile on his face.

"You did great (Y/N)..."

"Did I get in right?" you swallowed thickly, looking at her and praying that you had chosen correctly. "Did I pick the right guy?"

The detective looked at you for a moment. "You did amazing."

You had never felt such a weight lifted off of your chest. There had been something about the way he spoke, the venom and the sadistic pleasure, that no one else could mimic other than the person themselves. You didn't know who he was, but a part of you would remember him like you had known him for years. The mental scars he left with you, would always linger. But there was still a chance for closure.

The end was closing in.