21 Murders | Harry Styles AU (discontinued)

XLII. Objectionable

objectionable (adjective):  arousing distaste or opposition; unpleasant or offensive

Harry's POV

"Quinn better know who the hell this guy is otherwise we are back to square one," Klara complains halfway into the drive to Jeremy's daughter's house. The sun shines in brightly through my tinted windows and causes me to readjust my arm so I don't get fucking skin cancer at the age of thirty-five.

"She's still under house arrest, so there is a good possibility she'll bitch at us," Klara adds and I stay silent.

Too many thoughts are running through my mind right now to hold a steady conversation in this small space. My breathing has been labored ever since laying eyes on Royce's computer screen and I can only blame that on how suffocated all the pressure is making me feel.

Never have I had to sit down and stop what I was doing to just lash away at the thick smoke clogging my lungs and making breathing difficult, but now, now I feel like that is necessary to even stay alive. Between my father and the devastation he brought along with Internal Affairs, and how twisted this case is coming along, I'm not sure whether to believe it be more painful to re-think or not.

"Have you talked to him since?" Klara asks, reading my facial expressions.

"No, I don't want to talk with Des."

"You could at least call him your father," she looks out the window, casually and I roll my eyes.

"He never was one."

"You know that is not true."

"Don't tell me what I do and do not know," I spit, trying to control my sudden flare of anger.

"Are you honestly stuck on the whole idea that he isn't your father?" She turns to me with crossed arms and I look the other direction. "I'm not saying you have to go jump into his arms and praise him for whatever shit he has installed in you that is decent, I'm just saying maybe there is more to the equation than you're in knowledge of."

"I don't need your advice," I bite back my tongue. The only person I feel open to talking like this is with Noelle. She knows me wholeheartedly and can read me better than I can, myself. That being said, I don't need her poor advice or shitty attitude.

"I never said you had to take it. I was just throwing it up into the air because sometimes I think you get so focused on hating him, that you forget about the good qualities he installed in you." Klara raises her palms in defeat and shrugs.

I guess she isn't all that  wrong, but the fuck with what he "installed" into me. He chose his coarse when he decided he didn't want to stick around long enough to take responsibility of his actions and now that I am left to clean his mess, I am allowed to be pissed off.

"He's a bastard," I grit, summing my thoughts into one word. I think it fits him considerably well.

"Spoken like a true one." Klara sneers.

"Are you trying to imply something here?" My knuckles turn white as my grip on the steering wheel becomes stronger. Having a heart-to-heart in the driest form with her was never on the agenda. "If you have something to say, say it."

"I'm trying to be rational about this, Harry." She sighs, rubbing her temples. "What happens when your father comes back? Are you still going to treat him like a jerk or are you going to man up and ditch the idea before it drives you crazy?"

"He isn't coming back first of all," I halt her. "And secondly, I'm not discussing it with you any longer."

"That's what you have Noelle for, blah blah blah," she huffs, pulling her hair into a ponytail, aggravated.