Lennon.
The backstreet alleys and dark roads soon turned into a neighbourhood, which should be featured on a reality housewife show. The journey had remained at a constant silence, the engine and the car powering through the streets produced the only sound. He didn’t try to make conversation – not even to tell me where we were heading, and I didn’t attempt to speak either out of fear of being shot down. He didn’t seem like someone who would be strictly honest.
It took over half an hour before we turned towards a house, however there was a massive iron gate halting us in our tracks. A chill breeze drafted through the car as he rolled down the window and typed something in on a keypad. The gates swung open afterwards allowing us inside, slamming shut quickly after.
The car trundled up the drive, which was littered with several other cars. All of them had blacked out windows much like this one. Many were Range Rovers, others ranged from top of the line sports cars to minimum wage affordable ones. The amount of cars around was a little daunting to come across. I mused whether there was going to be lots of people, or one really rich person in this house.
“Is this your house?” I questioned, looking up at the mansion in front of us and then to Harry who was about to climb out the car when he stopped briefly.
“No.” He bluntly spoke before exiting the car without another weird.
I watched him in the windscreen, eagerly waiting for me to join him. He wasn’t going to be a gentleman and open the door for me – not like I expected it anyway; it was a little far fetched. He looked tired and annoyed, crossing his well-built arms over his chest. He was faintly lit by the front porch light as his hair casted a shadow across half of his face. He looked even more hostile than he did in my bedroom.
I climbed out the car hesitantly, my hair was still wet and the coldness erupted shivers over my body. I matched Harry and crossed my arms over my chest as I began to follow his footsteps towards the door. It occurred to me I was about to enter a stranger’s house for an unknown reason, which could result in a fatal outcome, and I still hadn’t tried to escape yet. I froze, turned around slightly, and then noticed the massive brick wall and gates blocking any sign of an exit.
“Don’t even think about it.” I jumped almost literally out of my skin when I spun my head back around to find Harry’s only centimetres away from mine. He held my gaze with a piercing stare before grabbing my forearm and pulling me up the front steps.
He didn’t knock or ring the bell, he waltzed straight through. I didn’t know what to be awed by most; the incredible marble floor which reflected the light impressively well or the massive chandelier hung from the ceiling several floors above. My mouth hung open, much to Harry’s pleasure.
Voices of a group of people soon flowed through the house. By the sounds of them, there appeared to be a fair few of people on the premise. I shuddered at the prospect of who may be lurking around any corner. I couldn’t hear a single female voice, which worried me even more. I hoped and prayed this wasn’t some illegal sex house or slave trade dealer headquarters.
“Haz!” A guy who was probably a similar age to ‘Haz’ practically swan dived through the air until he was feet away from us. He was Irish, a very cliché Irish at that. He had the accent – of course, a pint of Guinness in his hand, pale skin – which is often a sign, he was predominantly drunk – nothing to say that this was an Irish trait though but the giant shamrock on his shirt was also a big give away. (Mainly the accent though, it was probably more prominent due to his intoxicated state).
