Twist Of Fate

Eight

CHLOE 

My sleep is fitful and disturbed. Every noise has me awake and bolt upright; checking Harry hasn't crept away in the night, and straining for the sound of distant police sirens. The portacabin is hot and stuffy on this summer's night and even though there is no door, there is also no breeze. The air is thick and heavy, like a scratchy wool blanket wrapped tightly around my head, adding to my confusion.

The black sky begins to lighten just after four a.m., just as my eyelids are beginning to feel impossibly heavy. I manage to get another hour's sleep, but by five o'clock the sky is blue and sunlight is streaming through the dirty windows, highlighting every speck of dust dancing in the air. I lie awake for an hour thinking, mulling everything over and attempting to organise my thoughts and make sense of the last twelve hours. Now the initial adrenaline has faded, I feel a little calmer and less panicked, although there is a knot in my stomach that will not loosen. In the other corner of the room Harry stirs, fidgeting a couple of times before sitting up and rubbing his face with both hands. I watch him through nearly-closed lids, wondering if he will uphold his promise to take me with him, or if he will see me asleep and make a run for it without me.

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, grimacing as he does so, then pulls his legs up so they are bent in front of him with his feet flat on the floor and rests his forearms on his knees. He looks over in my direction and observes me for a few moments with a blank expression on his face. I have no idea what he could possibly be thinking, but I would bet money on it not being anything positive about me. I don't know why he is so angry all the time, or why he shows such contempt towards me, and I long for some insight into his character, to help me to understand him.

"Chloe." 

I am so deep in thought that the sound of his voice - deep and husky from not having been used in the last few hours - actually makes me jump. I open my eyes and look at him, doing my best to act like I have just woken up. I rub my eyes and sit up, wincing at the hard floor beneath my bottom, wistfully longing for my stained, creaky mattress back at my flat. Now there's something I never thought I would miss.

"Hi," I greet him, timidly, and he pulls a scornful face at me.

"I need to get out of here before the police start sniffing around."

He gets to his feet and stretches, lifting his arms above his head which pulls the hem of his tshirt up in the process. I catch sight of what looks like some sort of leaves tattooed near his hips, one on each side, and my eyes are drawn to them as I try to make out what they are. His skin is smooth, with a few dark hairs in a thin line just under his belly button, disappearing below the waistband of his jeans. I wonder what other tattoos he has beneath his tshirt, and the thought of his bare chest sends a strange tingle up my spine and a gentle heat to my cheeks.

He pulls his tshirt down abruptly and I snap my head up to see him staring at me, his brow creased in a frown, and I realise in horror that he has caught me ogling him.

"Where - where are we going?" I ask, my voice higher and squeakier than usual.

"I need to get out of London. I don't know where yet."

He offers no further information, but turns away and picks up his holdall that now has a Harry-shaped dent in the top of it from where he has been sleeping on it. 

I scramble to my feet too. "And I'm coming with you?"

"Said so didn't I?" His tone is belligerent and short.

"I was... just checking," I mutter as I bend over and pick up my rucksack, swinging it up onto my shoulder.

"Well don't."