Silver and Cold |h.s.|

14. Broken Wings

The room is warm and the smell of the fire is what pulls you from your dreamless slumber.

You groggily try to pull yourself up with your uninjured arm but find it incredibly difficult to do so. The blood you lost has clearly not been replenished and despite the storybooks...you do not heal quite as quickly as the world thinks.

Collapsing back down, you realize that you are sprawled out on the emerald couch in the living room, a large shirt and sweatpants clung to your body where you'd been naked before, and sitting across from you, his back to the wall, is your human. His face is rid of any emotions and it makes your stomach tighten in anticipation of the worst.

His eyes are on you and you wonder how long they've been that way. For the first time since you've been with him you ask yourself if you are truly as safe as you once thought with him. You can tell that there is definitely something wrong because one of his large hands is holding a gun, its barrel pointed towards the floor, and your heart rate accelerates in fear.

How long had you been passed out and susceptible to an attack?

Judging by the way the sun has fallen behind the tree line you assume it has been a good two hours or so and a chill runs up your spine at the thought that Harry has been sitting there contemplating what to do with you or worse...has contacted someone about you.

Harry must register the thoughts running through your head because he sets the gun down beside him, his knees drawn up to his chest so that his arms can hug them loosely as he brings his gaze back to yours. He inhales sharply and deeply before speaking.

"Tell me that I'm crazy." He says without a hint of inflection or intonation. His deep voice resounds throughout the living space and you wince slightly at the heaviness it carries.

"Tell me that I have lost my mind and that I have imagined this entire thing," Harry's green eyes bore into yours and now there is a desperation that is clinging to each word, "tell me that I never went to that dog pound, tell me I never brought home an animal, tell me that I am having some fucked up post traumatic delusion because I don't think I can handle the alternative." You seem to have lost your voice.

You want to tell him that this is all some terrible dream. You want to tell him to close his eyes and you will disappear but you know that he knows now.

You know that he is now dealing with a terrible truth...one that could break him.

"Harry I-"

"Tell me I've lost my mind," he cuts you off with a shake of his head, signaling to you that it is not your turn to speak, "I need you to tell me that I did not take in some...beast that somehow...," you cringe at his use of "beast" and the word fills you with equal parts dread and loathing.

"You can't be...you can't be what I think you are." Looking at him now you can see dark circles underneath his iridescent eyes. You can see that he looks mentally exhausted and it is because of you. You did this. You are breaking him again.

A silence fills the room that oozes with contempt and horror. You both are terrified of the answer but when your human sits there just staring at you and not talking any further, you take this as your cue.

"What do you think I am?" You ask calmly, slowly pulling yourself up to sitting but stilling as Harry's hand instinctually dives down to the gun resting by his side. Your eyes follow the motion and then cautiously slip back to his face.

"I can't say it without sounding like an absolute loon." He practically whines out, sucking in a breath of air at the end as if he is begging for you to say it for him.