Harry and Maya One-Shots

Illegal - Part Three

hellllooooo :) i hope you guys enjoy!! :D <3

HARRY’S P.O.V.

            I was replying to emails from other teachers the next morning when I heard a shy voice say my name. I looked up from my laptop and I felt my heart race. I smiled widely and stood up abruptly. “Ms. Hartman,” I greeted with a smile.

            “Hi,” Maya said. Her cheeks were a light pink color. She had a packet of papers in her hand. “I um…” she handed them to me.

            “I didn’t expect this much,” I chuckled a little bit.

            “It’s just the prologue and the first two chapters,” she told me shyly. I smiled at her and noticed her cheeks go even darker. It was terribly adorable.

            “I want to thank you,” I said sincerely. “I know you were hesitant about showing me your story, but I won’t tell anyone else. Do you mind if I write you some notes as I read it?”

            She shook her head. “No, not at all.”

            “Great,” I looked at her and she nodded, looking down at the floor. “I’m going to start reading it now, if that’s okay?”

            “Y-Yeah,” she stuttered.

            I smiled. “I’ll have it finished by the time you come into class today. I want to discuss it with you.”

            “Okay,” she barely breathed out.

            “I’ll talk to you after class,” I said with a smile. She merely nodded and said a shy goodbye before she rushed out of my classroom. I let out a breath and sat down at my desk, opening up to the prologue.

            The full Webster’s Dictionary definition of insane is as follows: a deranged state of the mind usually occurring as a specific disorder (as schizophrenia). Basically, someone who is insane is out of their mind. There is really no sugar-coating it. If people think you’re insane, then you’re insane. End of story.

            The year is 1946. World War II is coming to an end and many soldiers are coming back home. At least the ones who survived. I, Peter Faller, am one of these soldiers.

            In my own opinion, I think I am pretty sane. I did what I had to do in the war, and got to come back home to Kentucky to try to pick up my life where I left off. Everything was normal, the way it always used to be. I woke up in the morning, came downstairs, ate breakfast, and then went about my day as a normal twenty year old man.

            It was one night that everything changed. One night was all it took for people to classify me as clinically insane.

            I guess I must not have heard the front door open and then slam shut in the middle of the night as I was caught in a restless sleep. It all seemed to happen so quickly that I was dragged out of bed by an unknown man and tied to my kitchen chair.

            I think that sometimes if you’re so overwhelmed by terror, your body just shuts itself down. There are absolutely no emotions at all. That’s why I didn’t try to stop that man from killing my family. I just sat there and watched him brutally murder every single one of my pleading family members without a blink of my eye.

            The next morning when I was left in a giant puddle of blood in the middle of my kitchen, I called the authorities. I couldn’t tell them what happened. In fact, I probably made it seem as if I was the killer because I had their blood all over me. I was taken to a questioning and attached to a lie detector. I said that I didn’t kill my family, which was the truth. I told them that some man did it and not me, which was the truth.