Basketcase

What ever happened to Harry? (Unedited)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!

Just a little prereminder before you read on in this story, as you can see there is an UNEDITED in bracets and unbolded beside the title of this story. To fill you in, I have a very vivid idea of when I began writing this story and you will see, if you choose to read on, that the style of writing differs to a GREAT extent, from what I am writing right at this moment to what is under this warning note. You have the choice to read on or wait for my updates of each chapter! What I plan to do is edit a chapter or so each date until the recent updated chapter! If you wish to wait great! And if you can with stand the torcher of reading on, then I abit you good luck and caution you that my writing may be and is disastrous. I thankyou.

Chapter Thirty

“I really don’t understand why they can’t do this. I mean I get why Marissa can’t but Ryan is perfectly fine delivering this-this...” I reached my hand into the bag, my skin scratching against it as I took it out. The bag hanging on a slant off my finger, the thinly rolled paper handles coming a part even before it was given to me, sliding off my fingertips as my stare shifted to the pocket sized object in my hand. I flipped it on its back, only a few scratches on the screen a dent in the corner. “phone…”

The metal doors opened, disappearing into the walls. I stepped out, the bag still in the elevator. I looked up, a door in front of me and three more to my left, one to my right. “What the hell? This place has five doors to get into one room?” I glanced at the phone, flicking the screen with my thumb. The black curved slightly, a sudden clicking and the screen brightened. I looked again a the five doors and the phone, “What ever.”

I knocked on the door and waited, my foot tapping to the hum in my head as the minutes passed. There was no answer.

I moved to the next door, to my right, knocking. Again. I stared at the phone. It looked expensive but nothing like the ones I saw back in Toronto, not price wise but more style. It looked too complex to be American and it definitely wasn’t Canadian, probably European, something along those lines.

A door slammed. I turned my head, the noise ringing in my head. I turned walking to the next door, the one I was previously at. It was the closet one and then only one I could hear clear enough to strain me from thought. I stared at the doorknob, having the urge to twist it and burst in but it was electronic and it had a key scan.

A person could not have enough time to scan their card and get in without me seeing so it must have been opened and shut from someone already inside. I lifted my foot from the carpet lunging it towards the door making a bang against the pine furnish. I crouched down staring at the spot where I’d kicked, a streak of black had came off my shoe and remained on the door.

Still no one had answered even after I’d kicked it. I stood up, reaching my hand behind me into my back pocket, pulling out a key card. I flashed it through, the light blinked my red to green and the sounds of metal moved in the door. Through the crack, between the door and the wall, the small rectangle of metal unlocked the door. My hand pushed down on the handle, another chunk of metal moved and the door opened freely.

It opened into a bedroom, white downy carpeting themed slightly to Disney idea. The two dressers, shell shaped knobs and a mirror above them white shells, also, outlining the rim. A sailboat trim on the pale walls, a single painting against the closet wall and windows top to bottom on the far side of the room. Ryan would hate this place. I stuffed the key back into my pocket in and walk farther in the room, the phone still in my hand. I walked to the next door, twisting and jerking the heavy weight wood inward. I stepped out into a small hall, seeing a seating area up a head, a few couches; two joined at the corner and another fit to sit two.