Good Intentions| Editing

Thirty Two

A/N: Just wanted to say that people react in a variety of ways after witnessing death. Please don't judge Arabella's reactions because they are quite normal in some cases. Other wise, enjoy the last chapter :)

Because Mr. Wells was already dead, I didn't have to be taken to the police station to be questioned. Instead, I was going to be questioned in the office. The police told me that I had to wait for the homicide investigators to show up, because I committed murder even if it was self defense. I knew not to answer any questions because I didn't have a lawyer present, so I sat in the desk chair, watching the people put little markings around the body and gun. No one asked me if I needed anything, or if I was okay.

No one even wiped the blood off my face.

People scattered around me were also heading down to the first floor where Elmer lay with a bullet between the eyes and another in his stomach. Hearing this, all I could think about was his wife, who expected to have more special dinners. But because of me, after thirty years of marriage, there wouldn't be any. The cops also said that the owner of the company was going to be called and asked to come to hear the situation from me personally. Lucky me.

I was looking at Mr. Wells' lifeless body on the floor, when the elevator dinged. His blue eyes were staring up at me, still filled with rage and the want to kill me. A pool of red coated his black hair. The gun lay rested by his foot, reminding me of who last pulled the trigger. I close my eyes, not wanting to look at him anymore. But I am haunted by memories.

"What did you do, you little bitch?"

The hand that was tangled in my hair now grasps at my neck tightly, cutting off my air. My eyes flick toward the elevator, hoping for the cops to appear. Mr.Wells grips my neck harder, and the hand that wasn't gripping the gun claws at his hand.

I look back to the elevator and see that the door was still closed. My lungs burned from the lack of air, and my eyes were getting droopy. I was going to have to shoot him if I wanted to live. If I didn't shoot him, what was this all for?

"Harry is going to suffer so much because of you. I hope you know that." I hear Chris say. His neck veins were prominent and an ominous look rested in his eyes.

I wrap my fingers around the trigger of the gun, feeling the power in my hands. "Fuck you." I managed to choke out before reaching up and shooting him in the temple.

"Arabella!" someone shakes me out of my reverie. I look up to a frantic Harry whose hands are on the side of my face. His green eyes are full of regret and fear while he squats in front of my chair. He's wearing his usual black jeans and black tee shirt, but a green bandana pushes his curls back.

"Harry," I mutter feeling unwanted tears fall down my face. "I'm so sorry. He-he was gonna kill me. I didn't-" I start to explain but he shushes me.

"I'll be right back little miss." He kisses the top of my head then walks over to a cop. The cop had blonde hair and blue eyes, and an annoying high pitched voice. He was the one who was complaining about my lack of answers to his questions, saying he had to get home to catch the base ball game. He also took advantage of our break room and made himself a cup of coffee since, "the girl won't be opening her little mouth anytime soon". Entitled bitch.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Harry forcefully says at him, narrowing his eyes and flailing his arms. The cop, who looks about two, looks at him incredulously. "You leave her sitting there, with blood on her face, two feet away from her attacker. Where's your humanity?"

"Sir, do you know I can detain you for speaking to an officer like that?" The cop asks smartly.

"She's traumatized enough as it is! And then you want her to sit there and be reminded of what she had to go through?" Harry rolls his eyes and tries to keep his composure. I can tell he's about to explode with anger. He's a ticking time bomb about to go boom.