BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Twenty-Two

"You're lying!" I shout at Harry, tears welling up in my eyes. "Please tell me you're lying!"

Harry stands up from the couch, and quickly walks up to me. He looks panicked, and I can't tell if it's from my reaction or the situation as a whole. He places his hands on my upper arms, and bends down to meet my eyes.

"I'm not lying," he shakes his head firmly, his face just inches from mine. I feel my breath catch in my throat at his proximity. "I swear I'm not. I wouldn't lie about something like this."

I stare at him for a moment, trying to decide if I believe him or not. He licks his bottom lip nervously as his eyes flick back and forth between mine.

"Harry, I can't," I sniff, feeling the tears fall down my cheeks. My chest heaves up and down from the panic coursing through me. "I don't want to."

Harry closes his eyes and drops his head, taking a deep breath before looking back up at me. His face is full of compassion, something I never thought I'd see.

"We have to, I'm sorry," he whispers. He pulls away from me and walks over to the kitchen, where he grabs a black duffel bag similar to the one he pulled out of his trunk a couple weeks ago. He zips it up quickly, and throws it over his shoulder. "We have to go. Now."

I stand there and stare at him with my mouth hanging open. I can taste the saltiness of my tears coating my lips, but I'm still too shocked to wipe it away. I watch as he turns down the hallway off of the living room, my brows furrowing.

"What are you doing?" I question, finally moving from my spot and following him.

I can hear Harry rustling through something in the room at the end of the hall. I peek my head through the open door to see him standing in front of a dresser, pulling something out of it. I gasp loudly when I see that it's a gun, probably the same one he used to threaten that man in the alley.

"What the fuck?" I say in a loud whisper. "What do you need that for?"

He turns around, keeping his head down as he pushes past me to walk out of the room.

"Just in case," he responds, making the blood drain from my face. I feel my hands begin to sweat as I walk quickly behind him.

"In case of what?"

He looks at me like I just asked the dumbest question he's ever heard. The compassion I saw earlier is gone, likely to never be seen again.

"What do you think, princess?" He scoffs, pulling his black Converse onto his feet.

I bring my bottom lip between my teeth, and brush my hand through my hair in frustration.

"We have to go," he says again, opening the door and standing to the side, waiting for me to leave the apartment.

I debate whether or not I should walk out of that door. I definitely shouldn't, but given the situation, I don't really have a choice. I groan loudly and step out into the hallway, and he locks the door behind us before we go back down the elevator.