Orphan

Chapter 72

Upon arrival Harry stepped into the dark house, it was around 2am already and everyone was in their respective bedrooms by now. "Thanks, Niall. Goodnight." He muttered nodding his head as Niall made his way to his room, "No problem, mate. Goodnight." The sound of the floors creaking beneath Niall's feet and the door slamming shut the last thing he heard before the house went silent.
Harry got himself a beer from the fridge and headed up to his room, switching on the light. A bright red neatly packaged box sat atop his bed, Liam must have brought his package up, he thinks. As he approached the gift box, he noticed his name etched on top of a piece of paper which was pasted just above the ribbon. "Code red." Harry huffed out under his breath, setting the beer bottle down on his dresser before tugging on the ribbon, watching it unwind around the box. Tonight was undeniably chilly, being so near to the ocean surely did not help. The lack of sleep was imminent in Harry's eyes now that he had had a chance to calm down, from everything. As he lifted the lid of the box, a wafting rancid odour escaped causing him to cover his nose in the nook of his elbow. He flipped off the lid and came face-to-face with a rotting, decapitated squirrel, the blood staining the inside of the box. Harry stepped back, his breathing accelerating tremendously. What the fuck was this? He didn't break the promise, how could they have found out? What could they have found out? He furrowed his brows and tried to not breathe in the stench of death and rotting carcass. As he stepped closer once more directly next to the squirrel lie a note with the words, 'this will soon be you' simply written across the red stained page.

The anger that he once thought had left now came creeping back all at once. Harry grit his teeth grabbing the lid and closing off the box stomping down the stairs quickly. No one could know about this, no one could know of the vulnerability he now faced. This was not a threat, this was a warning. He grabbed hold of the spade and made his way outside, far from the house and settled on the sand, quickly digging a hole deep enough to bury the box in. The cold, dry sand beneath his feet sunk slowly under his weight, and he wished it would sink him in whole, altogether. Suffocating the last of him.

Harry dropped the box into the hole and buried the evidence, hoping it would make it disappear. But he knew that nothing was ever that easy. He scanned the area once, making sure he was alone, unwatched and free to forget about this. All of it. Hopefully Liam was unaware of things, he had to be, the box hadn't been opened. Harry made his way back to the house and locked the doors, flipping off his light switch to allow the darkness to flood his room once more, before falling onto his bed in a daze. He hadn't even put the alcohol to his lips, yet he felt drunk, dizzy, unstable. The room spinning around him, he couldn't die now. Never had he been afraid of death, now? Now he was mortified. Now he actually had something to live for. He had a child to raise, he had a family to protect.

He knocked the cap off of the bottle and downed as much as he could before placing it back on the nightstand. The house is silent, the wind outside picking up considerably as it whistles in between the edges of the windows. And he wishes she were here, amidst the darkness, nestling him and he would pretend to hate it, to loathe the contact.

When she's sleeping and takes all his personal space in a way he would never have allowed if she were awake, but they're alone and he's warm and for the rarest of moments he feels less alone. As restricted as he would be with her tangling limbs and shifting half her body weight onto his chest and either leaving him incredibly hot or pulling the covers and freezing his balls off, he allows it. Because she's asleep and she's unaware of just how painstakingly happy he is and how scared he is to show it. He really fucking wishes she were here.

But she's not. She's as alone as he is right now, a lot less broken though. Another big gulp of the cold beer on his nightstand and he's feeling less and less. The weight of the world seemingly drifting away, it would hit him hard in the morning, like a punch to the face. He wouldn't be able to pretend things were okay when Liam questions the big red box. Harry rolls over in bed and places a pillow on the empty side, a sigh escaping his lips as he stares at the soft, cotton object filled with foam. He closes his eyes, and gets comfortable, arm instinctively stretching out to grab onto something, but only the pillow is there. Anger rages through his body, and he's mad. Mad that he can't be what she needs, mad that he enjoys her pain, mad that he causes nothing but harm, mad at who he is. The box, the child, the emotions, all things he wasn't ready to deal with, all coming to him at once.
He clenches his jaw before ripping the pillow from the bed and sending it flying across the room, landing against the wall with a thud, ending up on the floor a few metres away. He grabs hold of his phone from his pocket and in a moment of weakness, dials the hospitals number. As soon as its stopped dialling he sits up, "Hi, its uh. It's Harry. I was there a few hours ago brought in a patient, her names Monique she was admitted yesterday. I was hoping you could check if she was awake. It's very urgent, I understand it's late- just please. Check." He sighs, after a long debate, there is shuffling on the other line followed by silence for a few moments. "Hi, erm yes she's awake."
"Great, could you transfer the call, please." He was hopeful, he didn't know why he was doing this. Maybe it was the threat of imminent death, but he needed to apologise. "I'm sorry, sir. She's not willing to talk right now. Is there a message I can pass on?"
"...,No. Nothing it's alright."
"Try again tomorrow morning. Goodnight." The lull of the phone was heard thereafter, filling his ear with a melancholy one tuned melody. He sighed placing the phone down and resting his face in his hands leaning back against the headboard. He felt hopeless beyond measure.