Detrimental [H.S.]

𝟷𝟷 - ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ

I automatically went to sleep a few minutes into the car ride. I think I had been asleep for a couple of hours because when I flicked my eyes open, it was sundown. I was in a huddle position, laying on the edge of the car door. My eyes were adjusting to the clear window. I'm pretty sure Harry didn't know I was awake, and I wanted to keep it that way.

There was faint music playing from the radio as I stayed in my position, looking out the window. I couldn't tell where we were. A plain field was all that I could see, other than the deserted road we were driving on. Harry still hadn't told me where we were going. I wasn't questioning it. Not because I trusted him, because I definitely didn't, but because I was still afraid of him.

"Toria." I heard him say.

That caught me off guard. How did he know I was awake? I didn't move at all. I ignored his voice, and pretended I was still sleeping. I hoped my sudden stiffness didn't indicate I wasn't sleeping.

"Toria, I know you're awake."

Shit. That sleep was probably the only peaceful thing I would receive throughout this whole road trip.

"You realize I'm a murderer, and with that, I know the breathing patterns of a human, right?" He spoke. "Your slow, heavy breathing changed."

"Just leave me alone. I don't want to talk." I groaned. I shifted to my other side. I was now facing him.

"You don't want to have social bonding time... I'm hurt." I could practically hear his smirk. "C'mon, ask me anything. I love it when I get to answer them."

"Of course, you're narcissistic." I spoke back, as I opened my eyes. I heard him chuckle. At least he had humor.

No wait. I take that back. His type of humor is seeing someone suffer.

I thought of a question that wouldn't be too pushy to first ask him. If I had to spend this car ride with him, forcefully out of my own will, then questions could pass the time.

"Do you ever feel any remorse after killing someone? I mean, you don't even know what they did." I asked, turning my head to see his reaction. "For all you know, they could be innocent."

He looked straight at the road, his large hands wrapped around the steering wheel.

"No." He deadpanned.

I furrowed my eyebrows together, while I held a sad expression. I didn't know why but I felt bad for him. Someone must have ruined his childhood so bad to the point where he didn't feel an ounce of regret for the people he murdered.

"Why?" I spoke softly.

"There's no reason. I just don't feel anything after I kill someone. The thrill of doing it is fun and all, but it dies out once they're dead." He had no expression as he said that.

I lowered my head down. I felt like he wasn't telling me the whole story, but I didn't want to push his limits.

"Have you ever got caught?" I looked out the windshield, just as him now. I was still a bit tired, and my brown hair was a bit frizzy as well.