are we out of the woods? | h.s

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my friend pulls me off my bed and has me follow her down the stairs, in case whoever is at the door is in fact a murderer as i suspected. when i tell her my suspicions she frowns and makes me go first down the stairs, which i very tentatively do.

the knocking came a fourth time as i reached the bottom step, and my heart pounded along with it. this person was persistent, whoever they may be. maybe they were my neighbor who had been walking in the rain. but who would come by so late at night, with the darkness almost completely taking over the sky now?

i put my hand on the doorknob and get relieved to feel that whoever was there wasn't trying to maneuver their way in on their own, however, i hear them groan from behind the door. it is a low, rumble sound; it is a man. fuck, maybe he is a patient murderer and in no rush to kill me. i think of the death threats that had caused me to leave my life behind months ago and a lump gets caught in my throat, but i push it down and take my most courageous movement of the week by pulling the door open.

my hand tightens around the knob of the door so fast that in the back of my mind i become worried i was about to crush it in my fingers and have it practically turn into dust.

the sound of rain becomes louder as the wind brushes past my feet, but the silence of everyone is much, much louder. my friend's mouth shifts and falls open a bit, her eyes widening as much as mine probably had.

"h-hi." the man stutters slowly. he sounds confused, like his tongue is too big for his mouth and he doesn't know what to say. neither do i, so i look over to my friend for help. my head is getting so lightheaded i think i am going to pass out right then and there. if only i could get away from what i see.

"um, i was just leaving," my friend speaks up, acknowledging the man before glancing back at me with pure shock. "i'll call you later, ella." 

her voice is stern; she is going to ask me about what is going to happen, possibly very soon, i assuredly know. she brushes past the man who doesn't even try to move out of her way, and he keeps his feet firmly planted on the welcome mat outside the door. this is the man she must had seen walking in the rain, but it isn't my neighbor.

it is harry.

he is dripping wet from the rain that must have fallen on him for minutes upon minutes, and his hair is soaked against his forehead and dripping onto his shoulders. he doesn't have a coat on but instead a white, loose button up with motorcycles all over it, but it is barely buttoned. it seems ripped down the middle, as if someone had tried to get it off. his chest is very visible to me, with the sight of his familiar bird tattoos i had loved so much, and the necklace i had worn for weeks now lying against his skin. the sight of it almost forces me to look away. i haven't even tried looking at his face yet.

"ella," he speaks softly, but slurred at the same time. was he drunk? "can... can i come in?"

i swallow whatever air i can and move to the side a bit, not finding the power to say yes or even speak to him at all. what is he doing here?

he mumbles his thanks and steps inside, his boots squeaking against the hard floor from their slipperiness. he takes a second to look around the room before looking back at me, but i keep my head low to watch his shoes instead. i haven't seen them before, but they were nice. too nice to be soaked and ruined in the weather he had trekked through outside.

"i needed to see you, i need help." he says a little louder now, his voice still a bit slurred. he seems to have had a drink or two, but i don't believe he's drunk. i can hear his teeth chatter as he takes a breath and waits for me to answer. i don't think i can. it tugs at my heart when he says he needs help because i know i need it too. i don't think seeing him would be the answer to it, though i am clearly the answer to his in his mind.