stripper killer [matty healy]

fifteen - desolate

desolate:(adjective) feeling or showing great unhappiness or loneliness.

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india

neither one of us can break our stare from the television as the news channel echoes around the otherwise silent room.

"young mutated woman found in london river has now been confirmed as gemma styles, aged 25. police are estimating the body-or pieces- had been here around two days. they're furthering the investigation and are urging anybody that feels they may have useful information regarding the case to come forward."

that's as much as i heard before harry's sniffling re-emerged from behind me - silently signalling me to turn it off. his cries were weak and barely audible. i'm pretty sure his body was completely worn out.

"fuck, harry." i sigh, staring at the now black screen. "i don't know what to say..."

after several moments of silence i turn to look at matty - whose eyes were still fixated on the screen as his fingers rapidly tapped the table. his jaw was clenched tight and i'm 99% sure i can hear his teeth grinding against each other. what was he thinking?

i pad further into the kitchen and flick the switch on the kettle. "coffee will fix anything." i announce. "how many sugars?"

i hear harry sigh from behind me. "i'm pretty sure a cup of joe' isn't going to fix this... but, two please."

i nod and begin to prepare both me and him a coffee. i know full well that no beverage in the world could fix what's happening, but i just wanted to help. he had just lost his sister - in one of the worst ways possible. i mean, she was cut up! who does that shit to another human? i can't even imagine what is going through his head.

i finish up and place the mug in harry's shaking hands while giving him a sympathetic smile - which he picks up on.

"don't look at me like that. i hate it." he croaks. his throat was dry and his voice sounded like it would crack at any moment and despite his large shoulders and tall frame he looked small, weak, and vulnerable. he was totally desolate. i suppose that's what heartbreak looked like.

"i'm sorr-"

"we were so close, you know?" he interrupts me. i look up at him from my mug. he had begun to run his thumb over the handle of his own cup in a soothing manner. his face looked pained - yet there was a smile there. a true genuine smile.

"i mean - we didn't see each other often, only at christmas really. but damn, we were close. ever since being children we would play together and look out for one another, and despite her being my older sister i would always chase away the bullies." he laughed lightly as he spoke about the subject, probably remembering them vividly in his head.

"she was such a good person... she had been through so much. her alcohol problem, her abusive partner. her job..." he pauses to look at me. he probably noticed the confused look on my face because he quickly began elaborating.

"she was a stripper." he sighed, his face cringing as he said the word. "it's a hard job... not that me and you would understand first hand. but, it was. she told me it was. whenever we had the spare chance she'd fill me in on everything. we would tell each other everything. she would text me whenever she'd finished shifts so i knew she was safe and stuff. you'd be surprised how creepy some of the guys are that go to those kinds of places, you know?"

i did know. i knew very well in fact. the skin of my cheeks was surely red, for some reason i was embarrassed - even though he was showing me appreciation in a way. i shift my gaze to matty who was still staring intently at the dead television. he didn't even seem engaged or interested in the conversation. his face was lacking any sign of emotion. i'd never seen anything like it.