Gabriel: Prequel

fourteen

[ harper's pov]

"You've ruined everything, you little bitch. One job. I asked one job of you, and you totally managed to screw it up?"

The harsh words slice through me, but not quite as much as the truth of it weaving around my gut. "He was being a dick, Darren. We owe them, fine. Doesn't mean I'm gonna degrade myself to listen to him sexualise me, either."

He laughs bitterly on the other side of the phone, his distress audible.  "No one was asking you to, Harper. I just needed you to stifle your pride for a second, but honestly? I don't know what I expected: your pride was always a problem - as well as your bitchy temper."

"What about his temper? Why send me to negotiate the drugs when you knew what he's like?" I retort, cringing at the memories.

"He's always had a bad temper towards anyone from the North; he just don't like us. Axel can be a pain in the ass, but what do you expect? Anyone in a gang is. But, his temper is tolerable when you understand his punishment. It's fearsome, to be frank."

"Well, what can I do-"

"Don't," he interjects, "you need to come home from your escapade now and sort the mess out yourself. If you don't come, Harper, he'll give you a nice little gift, won't he? It'll probably cost your life, but you knew what this life would entail when you signed up for it."

"You know damn well I didn't enter this life willingly, Darren," I bite, angrily hanging up, clutching my phone tightly so I resist the urge to throw it against something. Probably Rehan's head.

"You okay? You look like you're menstruating," he remarks from the other side of the room. 

Definitely his head.

"I'm perfectly fine. I'm going home."

He stops mid-step, scrutinising me from his glasses. "Already? What about us?"

I shrug, shifting my glance elsewhere, not wanting to make it harder for any of us, "Have you never heard of transport?"

Scoffing, he shakes his head as he picks up a book, ready to walk out of the room. "And your boyfriend? Didn't you pull him away from his life to take him with you on your vacation as an accessory?"

Again, the words rip through me, taunting me. He's right: I'm being selfish with Gabe, taking him when it's convenient for me, then discarding him when things become rough. It's unfair to be guided and lost.

"It's none of your fucking business, Rehan. We don't even like each other, so do us both a favour and stop acting so necessary," I mutter, looking away. Although there's fragments of truth in what I said, I don't wholly mean it. He matters just as much as Amancia or Nicholas, but the last thing I need is his intrusive nature.

"Chill out, Harper, jeez." He walks out of the room, muttering something to himself as he leaves; curses, no doubt. 

Sickness plagues me as he leaves and my stomach churns. I curse at everything as an attempt to distract myself before I leave. But, before I do, however, I need to do one final thing.

_________________

The worn out path of the town fades into a dull brown, signalling the dead end. Bare branches fawn over the path, shielding it from the harsh sunlight. It would be more fitting, however, to say the sunlight is shielding the world from the path. The familiar scent of orange blossom erupts everywhere, increasing in strength nearer to the derelict house. The thatched roof arches over the building, covering it from the falling leaves and sun. The same windows are smashed in, the fragment marks still painfully obvious. As I near the door, small beads crunch under my foot: ecstasy; molly; medicinal pills, even littered everywhere. How expected. 

I don't bother to knock as I shove the door, kicking discarded items out of my way until the clearing of the mess leads me to the bedroom. God, the bedroom. Memories fight to take charge of my rationality, but I won't let them win.

Entering the room. I immediately notice the intertwined bodies on the bed, insufferable noises emitting from them.

"Orgy's over, don't you think?" I interrupt, narrowing my eyes at them.

"Harper? Oh, damn it!" The bodies separate and my mother finally looks at me, her face coloured with disdain. The other one, a man no later than his forties, grunts.

I touch some clothes on the floor with the point of my boot, kicking it over to them. "Get dressed. We need to talk."

I don't bother to wait for her to respond before I walk into the hallway, making a face at all of the photos framed. Generic family photos. How cute. 

She finally walks out in a small, red robe, standing on the other side of the wall. It's funny: we're almost the same height, but she looks smaller compared to me right now. "What do you want, Harper?"

"I need the password to the legacy account."

"Why?"

"None of your business, to be honest," I answer bluntly, fighting the urge to run out. I take a quick glance to scan the hallway and see some old fingerprints in red, yellow and green printed on the walls. They stir up some nausea inside of me as memories of my childhood linger in my mind.

She pulls out a cigarette, offering one to me - which I accept - and lights them up. "Too bad. I can't give it to you."

"Why the hell not? I've waited almost eighteen years for this."

"Oh? I thought you were, like, twenty or something."

I suck in a breath, cursing against the tears at the back of my eyes. Almost eighteen years and I'm still not immune to this; if anything, my hormones recently have made me more vulnerable to these emotions. "My birthday is in two days."

"Oh," she repeats, glancing away. "Age doesn't matter, either, actually. You can't open the account."

"Why the hell not?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"It's in Griff's name. Sorry."

"Sorry? Is that fucking all? Your life savings, and your daughter can't even have them? I would say this is low, but then again, you gave me up, and exploited me, pushed me into prostitution. But, this? You apologised for years. And, for what? Your apologies are as meaningless as you are to me," I explode, storming out of the house, refusing to let her answer me or see me cry. I said I wouldn't explode in front of her, but I have. It's fine: there's no relationship to ruin, anyway.