Betrayed [h.s.]

Chapter Eight

We arrive at the gun shop and Harry managed to hold in his tears for the rest of the ride. Though, I wouldn't blame him if he were to pull over again. His anger seems to have fade because he opens the door for me. Normally when someone are mad, they don't do things for you, so I guess this is a good sign.

I wonder what I had done for him to be so angry with me? I'm almost positive I didn't do anything.

He unlocks the door and leads me inside. The guns are still organized in the same way. He grabs a gun from the rack and heads to the shooting ring. I grab a gun as well and follow him. He immediately starts shooting while concentrating on the red dot. Following his lead, I shoot my respectful target.

Bang!

Miss.

Bang!

Miss.

Bang!

Miss.

I sigh and lower my gun while loosening my grip on it. I glance over to Harry, who sits against the wall, hugging his knees. I approach with a warm and apologetic smile, though he can't see it. I sit next to him, crossed legged. I wrap my hand over his shoulder, and squeeze it lightly.

"It's gonna be okay, Harry. I promise." He lifts his head to look at me. His eyes are already red. My chest tightens at the sight.

"How? How do you know? He was my best friend, Nicole." He says. I can hear the pain behind his voice.

"I.. I don't know," I say. "But you can't give up on him. This murder is still out there and we have stop him." He swallows and nods his head slowly. "Now c'mon," I encourage him, standing up and sticking out a hand to help him up. "Show me how to shoot this damn gun." I smile.

Harry shows me the basics of multiple guns and I've gotten the hang of shooting most of them with a 78% accuracy. It's barely 2:34 and we still have a lot to do. Harry tells me to wait in the car and I do as he says. After 10 minutes, Harry returns with a cart full of guns. I widen my eyes.

Is he seriously taking all those?

He opens the trunk and starts filling it with guns. I gulp down, and sincerely hope he's just fooling around. We pass by a lot of road bumps on the way back to Harry's house and one those guns can possibly fire. He jogs around the car, to the driver side and slides in his seat. He starts the car and takes off.

So he's not joking.

As estimated, we pass through multiple bumps and jump at every one of them.

"You okay?" Harry asks, glancing at me briefly.

"Yeah." I'm fine, there's just just a bunch of weapons in the trunk and can accidentally shoot one of us.

As if reading my mind, he replies, "The guns are fine. They won't shoot, I have them on safety."

"There's such thing as safety when it comes to guns?" I ask and Harry chuckles.

"You are something, you know that?" He asks, smirking.

"what's that supposed to mean?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"Nothing," he mumbles with a small smile, shaking his head. He pulls into the driveway and turns the car off.

I hop off the car and shut the door, following Harry to the trunk. He grabs a gun and takes it inside. "C'mon." He jerks his head, gesturing for me to follow him. He leads me to the hallway and places the gun under a table that holds a plant, a painting hung above it. He sticks the to the surface. "These guns are for emergency uses only," he says sternly. I nod my head.