The Silenced Drummer

Chapter 24: The Reason Why

George could not even see the staircase in the darkness.

The sunlight that had once shined through the windows had long since faded, and now the only lights that came in where from the stars in the night sky.

They were nowhere near bright enough for George to see anything just beyond a couple of feet from him.

He wrapped his arms around his body, the black blanket offering him with some degree of cover.

George breathed through his mouth, still feeling the remnants of his tears on his face as he once again stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

Harold had gone upstairs quite some time ago, and he held onto a small hope that he didn't come down anytime soon.

If he came down, George was sure that it wasn't for something good.

Another part of him also hoped that Ringo was fast asleep by now.

It had to be approaching midnight, but no matter how hard he tried, George couldn't sleep. He wasn't even able to make himself feel tired.

It was almost as if his mind was too traumatized to even go to sleep.

His tongue ran over the spot where his missing tooth once was, and the faint taste of blood made him feel sick.

Creak

The sound made George freeze up for a moment.

Creak

The sound resonating from the top of the stairs.

George squinted his eyes shut, thankful that he was already facing away from them. 

He could not stop his hands from twitching as someone quietly walked down the stairs. George did not need to look to know who it was.

Maybe, if he pretended to be asleep, he would go away.

George thought about the possibility for a moment. He wanted to believe it, more than anything else.

But, Harold was probably thinking that he was asleep right now.

He would be coming down the stairs either way, George knew it with the same certainty that told him that he would still he handcuffed to the radiator in the morning.

His heart fell into his stomach as he heard the footsteps get closer.

George knew that the change in his breathing was audible, for it was now much slower than it had been before.

The footsteps stopped right behind him, and George curled in to the fetal position.

"I know you're awake."

The stern voice made George's blood run cold, but he still opened his eyes.

"W-what do you want?" He asked quietly, trying to sound courageous.

"You remember how you said that-"

"I remember the deal. W-what do you w-want to do?"

Harold took a step back, surprised.

"No beating around the bush, huh? I like that."

Reluctantly, George rolled around, his secured arm being stretched out. He made sure to keep his body concealed with the blanket.

Even in the darkness, he could tell that Harold was smirking.

"T-tell me."

Harold knelt down to his level, looking into George's dark brown eyes.

"You remember what we did earlier, correct?"

George felt tears form in his eyes as he winced.

"Y-y... yes..."

"Well... I was thinking about... doing it again?"

George's lips quivered as he tried to keep himself composed.

"And... do me a favour and... try to be as quiet as you can this time. You don't want to wake up your friend downstairs, do you?"

There was nothing but silence in return.

"George? You going to answer?"

"W-w... Why a-are y-you doing this?"

"Oh, whatever do you mean?"

A hand rested itself in George's hair, and the sensation made chills run down his spine.

"Why d-did you... Why... W-why d-did you w-want to... to d-do this?"

The hand moved away from his hair.

"I was wondering when you'd ask that."

Harold smirked devilishly down at the musician, bright brown eyes displaying such coldness and spite that it made George shake.

"I have nothing against you, or any of you in fact. I'm just doing this because I want attention and... well... I'm not the most mentally healthy person out there you know."

George turned his head away and closed his eyes, whimpering as tears started to escape them. 

He felt a hand on his cheek.

"Aw, don't cry. This isn't so bad."

The caring tone in Harold's voice made George feel sick to his stomach.

"Now, open your eyes and get yourself ready."

The hand pulled away from his cheek.

"Otherwise, you know what I'm going to do."

George opened his eyes, but he refused to look at Harold.

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling above him.

Beginning to whimper, George used his free arm to throw the blanket off of him.