XANNY ▹ Harry Bingham

IN OVER YOUR HEAD

mention of alcohol, mental illness, drugs, and abuse. this is a trigger warning. do not read ahead if you'll be negatively affected.

chapter fifteen

"fear has its use but cowardice has none"

_

In the dark room, even silence left Eden on edge, as if it was a calm before the storm. She felt the air in her room move past her skin like cold water, drifting with the jasmine-vanilla scent of her perfume. It infused her far more deeply than the sunlight, which had been blocked out with the enclosure of her bedroom curtains. Without light in the room, the blanket she wrapped herself in was nothing more than a muted hue, as if it also awaited light to ignite its colour.

Eden had moved herself to the floor, propping her back against the far east wall. She could see the entirety of her room from this angle, and almost as if she were a ghost, she could see the memories of her past unfolding. A golden glow of light moulded in the form of her mother, and she watched it tuck little Eden Jo into bed.  

She'd really gone off her rocker, hallucinating the memories belonging to her younger life. It was the first sign of her mental downfall. Drugs weren't saving her anymore like they used to. They were drowning her, again, surrounding her with the harsh waters of sorrow, stripping way the strength it took for her to be okay with taking another breath. She gave up on asking herself what 'optimal' was. In her current state,  she lacked the motivation to seek a happier Eden. She no longer loved sunshine and rain the same.

She shook around a few pills in her fist like she was rolling a pair of dice. She closed her eyes and shot them to the back of her throat, swallowing hard. Once her eyes fluttered back open, the golden hues of her memories were gone.

A knock at the bedroom door drew her out of her depressive trance, but she stayed quiet. She wanted to continue sitting here, in the dark, isolated, and devoid of human contact. Against her hopes, the door opened, letting in a stream of daylight from the exposed hallway. It was Harry.

He scanned the room before catching a glimpse of her curled up on the floor. Her hair was barely combed back into a messy ponytail, and even from across the room, he could easily see her reddened, baggy eyes. "Eden?"

She stayed silent and shut her eyes, blocking the new light from piercing her retinas. She felt Harry's presence move, taking a seat on the carpet in front of her. He adjusted her blanket to cover her legs and torso, and he sympathetically rested his right hand on hers. Anyone, without context, would've assumed she was ill. In a twisted way, she thought she was too.

"Wren didn't do it."

Eden's eyes immediately shot back open, and she pushed herself off the floor and onto her feet. "What?"

"It wasn't Wren," Harry slowly followed after, still holding his hands out in a form to help keep the girl calm. "Greg Dewey was arrested."

"The skinny redhead?"

"Yeah."

Eden began to shake her head, "No, you got it wrong. You need to go after Wren."

"Eden--"

"It's not him." She became flustered and started pushing Harry away at the chest. "It's not him, you need to go out there, and catch the right guy!" Her behaviour quickly escalated, and her pushes turned into hits.

"Eden--"

"It's NOT HIM!" Eden continued to aim for Harry's chest, releasing the built-up fear and anger through the energy of her fists.

"EDEN!" Harry made himself heard and pinned down Eden's arms, though she continued to struggle. Her arms grew tired, though, and she quickly gave up, unable to release herself from Harry's grip. Instead, she allowed him to pull her close into a comforting embrace. She felt his voice vibrate through his chest as he spoke, "He told me himself. Trust me. I can take you to the trial tomorrow."

"I'm scared, Harry."

"I know." Harry traced his fingers along Eden's back, resting his chin atop her head.

"I don't think it was Dewey. And even if it was, he couldn't have done it alone."