The second I laid eyes on him, I knew. How everything about him made me giddy and anxious, nervous and afraid. He lit every organism in me and that caught me off guard.
Like a presence surrounding me, he called me.
Filled me.
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Day 41
A day passed. Duh.
I sat in my hospital bed, deep in thought. I was supposed to be out of here already but due to the events that happened the day before, I was placed on psych-hold. It didn't annoy me that much but it unfortunately gave me too much time to wonder about my favourite killer.
After everything, Penn and his buddy simply walked out Harry's room and back to the streets of Ridgeway. Chief Naomi and father Malakai appeared shortly after. Mr Malakai wasn't very pleased but said nothing. His son had protected all of us, including my family and yet he'd come (once again) close to death. Not a word was spoken between him and I either.
I mean I could understand it. Harry must've known what was happening the minute the car appeared in his mirrors. That way, when he woke up, he knew that they'd come after him again and he'd have to do something about it. This was definitely one of the options on the table and it had yielded the best result possible.
And yet, it was the most disturbing thing I had ever witness. It was the first time I'd seen someone say bad things about Harry and I actually agreed. People spoke pretty dark things about Harry at school and it was always just gossip. Rumors and assumptions. And yet, Penn was a ruthless gang-boss that carried out hits. And he was right. I could see the similarities between the two.
What made it worse was that he wouldn't look at me. He wouldn't say anything. He didn't say anything. I didn't know if it was intentional or he was just taking a moment or something. Leaving me with all these thoughts... I don't know. I really didn't.
Knock knock.
I mentally groaned. Among those annoyed about what happened were my parents. They did not appreciate guns being in the same town as me, much less the same room. Yet they mercifully didn't vent their frustration and instead just refused to leave my side at all.
The door opened but I kept my eyes on the ceiling, used to people just assuming I'm busy processing. It was something I'd done multiple times and, being honest, I was really in need for some processing.
"Hey." My eyes immediately fell down to see Harry sitting at the foot of my bed, broken arm and all.
Suddenly that relaxed and not-in-the-mood nature disappeared as I took in the boy wonder. He was still in his hospital robe, barely holding onto his frame. His hair was framing his cheeks in defined locks, his jaw clenched. His black cast encased his left hand which held a gun almost a day before.
And yet he looked so nonchalant, natural sitting in my room. On my bed. How'd he managed it, with everyone being so protective around me, I didn't know.
"I figured you had some questions and theories and I, uh, figured I'd come talk to you." He continued before I could ask him any questions, which was a nice change of pace. It didn't feel forced either.
