Stall 2

Chapter 30.

"If you want love, you gon' have to go through the pain"

***

Harry has barely said a word to me.

He didn't let me respond when he said I was terrified of him, I was still stuck on words at first. My brain was still going a hundred mile an hour; and I think I was in some kind of shock from everything I saw.

Harry was hell bent out of getting me out of that club and home as quickly as possible, telling me to go get in the car and following close behind me.

He wouldn't touch me.

Granted, he's still covered in blood but that didn't seem like the only reason; because he could barely look at me either. It was like he didn't want to be anywhere near me.

Everytime I tried to speak on the drive home, to talk to him or tell him I wasn't terrified of him - just try and talk about it even though I didn't really know what to say he would cut me off with a shake of his head, making it obvious he didn't want to hear it.

The only words he spoke were when Jimmy called him while he was driving to tell him he was at the club, and 'taking care of it' and Harry told him he'd talk to him about it later.

There's so much process, I know this is bad. I don't know exactly how bad but even just the fact that's Jacobs boss, and I guess one of Harry's clients this is really fucking bad.

But I can't even wrap my head around that at the moment, all I can think about is what I saw and Harry this very second.

I don't exactly know how to handle him at this very second, you could feel the tension and the stress rolling off of him in the car; it almost felt like it was going to shove me through the passenger side door.

I'm worried about him.

But I'm worried about me too.

I'm not okay. I'm really not. I haven't been for a while and I can really feel it now.

I couldn't stop the images going through me head, the sounds that kept replaying in my ears and seeing the person I love so fucking much do that to another person.

The question isn't whether or not Mick deserves it, it's how do I cope with watching Harry do that.

Sure, I've punched two people, but that was also for the first time in my entire life.

The only time I've ever seen violence even close to that, has been the night Andy hit me, listening to the start of Jimmy hit David and when Harry showed me the video of him when he was a kid in that basement.

Knowing about what Harry could do and seeing it are worlds apart. It's the difference between someone telling you a person was shot, compared to watching someone get their brains splattered on a wall in front of you.

I can't stop shaking. My nerves are shattered.

I've been secretly scared that maybe if I saw that Harry, it would remind me of the one in my dreams. That I may feel that same fear I do in my dreams.

But even when I would glance at him as he drove us home, still with blood staining his hands and shirt; his hair wet and hanging in front of his forehead from the rain and such a hard look on his face - it was nothing like the Harry in my dreams.

The Harry in my dreams is a stranger, someone I don't know at all wearing the face of the person I trust the most. I may have seen the darkest parts of him tonight, but the light parts of him were still there too.