Guns and Mirrors

TWENTY-THREE

♛Cameron Dawson ♛

I run a hand through my hair, pulling the bandages that are stained with blood off of my hands. I toss them into the trashcan, pulling a white shirt over myself and pulling on sneakers while rubbing my jaw that's aching.

"That bastard really hit you hard huh?" Ramiro asks me and I look over to see him bandaging his hand, his fight next. I laugh under my breath.

"You have no idea."

"Well now we know how ladies feel after certain activities." He jokes with a smirk and I snort, rolling my eyes as I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. He stands up then, patting my shoulder as a way of bidding me goodbye.

"Good luck man." I say. "Better beat the shit out of whatever asshole you're up against."

Ramiro mockingly punches the air. "Fuck yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

I nod, leaving the club through the backdoor after making it through the crowd of people who pat my back as I leave. When I'm in the car, I have to breathe in deeply before starting my car and heading home. Well, as best as home can be at this point. Harley is the only thing that could possibly make any place feel like home. However, as I walk into the apartment, I realise that something is a little off. Harley had racing tonight but her bag and jacket lay splayed across the couch. I shut the door behind me, softly placing my keys on the counter before reaching for the gun underneath the kitchen island. Slipping my bag to the floor, I click the bullet into place, moving my feet quietly against the floor as I head to the bedroom. As quick as lightning, I'm aiming the gun as I step into the room. But the sight that greets me is worse than I was expecting.

Quickly I drop the gun to the bed, rushing over to Harley. She's leaning against the railing of the weird balcony, a bottle of whiskey in her hand as she lifts it up to her lips.

"Hey," she smiles as I walk in and I shake my head.

"Not again amado." I say in sadness and she frowns.

"What? At least I'm not at a party."

I shake my head, stepping towards her when I see the mess she's made and the tug on my heart makes me feel like I'm having a heart attack. Next to her feet is a razor and there's drops of blood on the floor and on her shirt. When my eyes move to her wrist, I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. As my eyes meet hers, she takes a sip of the whiskey before offering it to me.

"I don't want alcohol Harley."

"Fine. More for me." She shrugs and I try grab it from her before she moves it out of my reach. "Leave me alone Danté."

"Harley, give me the bottle please."

"No." She says, jutting her chin out in defiance, and I purse my lips.

"Harley."

"Can I not get drunk in peace?" She snaps, nostrils flaring slightly. "Fucking hell. I can't get any space in this fucking cursed place."

Hearing Harley swear already makes me know she's long gone in her drunkenness and I frown, looking down at her. "What happened to make you drink?"

She shrugs. "Nothing."

"Then why are you drinking again? I thought we went over this. A million times."

Her eyes narrow before she pushes herself up to a standing position, having to lean on the sliding door to try and keep herself upright. She holds the whiskey tightly, stepping towards me on unsteady legs and I watch as she takes another sip, never breaking eye contact.