subject 13 // h.s. au

chapter twenty-three.

After several minutes of peaceful silence, Huck's hand still clasped around mine, he sighed deeply.

"You should go to your room," he suggested gently. My head was rested against my knees, and I tiled my head to glance at him.

He cleared his throat gruffly, "I need to take care of Quinn."

I frowned as he slipped his hand away from mine.

The determination in his voice was laced with sorrow, "I'll talk to Harry and Oliver, but we should let Elias rest."

I hadn't even thought of Oliver until Huck mentioned him. Where was he? I looked at Huck in confusion, there was no way Oliver hadn't heard the gunshot.

Huck caught on to the look on my face and pinched the bridge of nose, his body tensing from the stress of the past couple hours. "It's not my place to explain," he mumbled, "but Oliver is terrified of gunshots, so he's probably holed up in his room."

The familiar feeling of guilt rolled through me and I shuddered at the thought of Oliver hiding in his room, not knowing that his friend was now dead, and oblivious to everything that had happened.

"I'll talk to them, it'll be fine," he reassured gently as he began to stand, and my eyes followed the rust-colored spots littering his shirt.

I nodded and started to lift myself off the floor.

 I trusted Huck to take care of everything, and I needed to shower as soon as possible, the smell of iron that was wafting from my hair and face was beginning to nauseate me.

I fought the urge to peer around the doorframe to check on 12, knowing that seeing Quinn on the floor would send me into a spiral.

Huck's large paw-like hand squeezed my shoulder gently as he shot me a somber smile, and I tried to smile back, knowing that mine probably looked more like a grimace.

"I'll come find you when I've talked to them, and then we can all see Elias, and talk, together."

"Okay," I whispered as I turned my back to him and began to shuffle down the hall. The emotional whirlwind I had felt had now eased slightly and I was exhausted, the pain in my cheek intensifying.

I made my way through the corridors to my room, trying not to dwell on my thoughts as I walked through the door. 

I tried to focus on my physical actions and the sensations on my fingertips to distract myself as I walked into the bathroom.

Turning on the water, taking my clothes off, opening the shower door, stepping inside.

The numbness had begun to creep in again, and I welcomed it wholeheartedly. It was easier to focus on my actions, then to get stuck in my head again, and I ripped my eyes away from the blood tinging the water pink as it swirled down the drain.

Washing my hair, feeling the hot water down my back, breathing in the thick steam.

I realized I had been in the shower for over an hour, my mind finally silent as I shut off the water, covering myself in a towel as I walked through the bathroom. I glanced at the cloudy mirror briefly, averting my eyes the second I saw my stitched cheek.

I quickly tugged on a large black sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, flopping onto my bed lazily. My back hit the soft mattress with a thud, and I stared at the concrete ceiling, trying to squash the anxiety that began to return, slowly building in my chest.

Huck had made me feel better, and it comforted me to know that 12 was fine, but I couldn't help but worry about how Harry would react, or what he would say.