subject 13 // h.s. au

chapter twenty-eight.

Harry's POV:

It had been almost a month since she had left.

We had agreed that if she wasn't back in thirty days, that something was wrong, and we would need to look for her. I sat up, tearing off my comforter.

Or we needed to look for her body, I thought to myself bitterly.

I never should have let her leave.

I groaned in frustration, flopping back onto the bed.

The ache in my chest had grown every day that she didn't come back, and at this point it was agonizing.

I shouldn't have let her leave.

I combed my fingers through my hair, an image of her hands replacing mine flashing through my mind.

I was going crazy.

My jaw clenched, a dull throb of anger welling in me. She needed to come back to me, and when she did, I wouldn't fuck up again.

I should've stopped her from leaving.

Forget locking her in her room, I would lock her in mine.

After breaking Oliver's nose, my friends had left me alone, and while I was glad the boys wouldn't see me like this, the all-consuming thoughts of her were torturing me.

It had been twenty-six days.

I never should have let her leave.

I snapped my head up as the door flew open, crashing back against the wall.

Huck and Oliver were panting, hard, and the look on their faces sent a new wave of fear coursing through me.

They had obviously been in a rush, but now they glanced hesitantly between each other. My eyes flickered to the crumpled envelope clutched in Huck's fist.

"What is that," I seethed, my pulse jumping erratically.

"Harry, before you do anything," Huck urged gently, lifting his hands in a calming gesture, "we all need to talk about what we're going to do."

I didn't realize I had moved off of the bed until I felt the weight of the envelope in my hand, Huck staring at me with concerned eyes.

I didn't bother looking at them as I turned the envelope over in my hand.

'Harry' was written in large capital letters on the front of the creased envelope.

My skin prickled as I ripped it open, shreds of paper drifting to the floor.

'Dear Harry,

We miss you!

Love, Asher and Ember'

A second piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. I bent down slowly, picking it up.

Em's face stared back at me from a polaroid, expressionless, and blasts of white-hot heat slammed into me.

Asher stood behind her, his arms snaking around her waist, and a fury I had never experienced shot through me, and as the breath was knocked from my lungs, my vision tinged with red.

His head was turned to the side, and his lips were smashed against her cheek.

"Harry," Oliver called out softly, but the ringing in my ears distorted his voice.