Requiem (Psycho Harry) *COMPLETED*

Part 35

I feel like this song sums up Harry's softer side in Requiem.

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I turned to Harry, my mouth falling open as I desperately looked into his eyes; in hope that he would have a plan.

But instead, he just stared back at me with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Hazel?" Trish called out again.

I panicked, turning back and forth frantically in search of a hiding place for Harry.

"Yeah hang on, I'll be there in a second!" I called out, ushering Harry towards my large metal cupboard.

"I'm not gonna fit in there!" He hissed quietly as I tried to shove him in.

"Well you're gonna have to!" The fear was really starting to set in now. "If she finds me with you she's gonna kill me!"

And I wasn't exaggerating.

He looked a little confused, still not fully understanding that Trish was the killer.

With grumbling and mumbling, I managed to stuff him inside. He wasn't happy being cramped at the bottom.

"Don't come out until I say." I whispered, not giving him another chance to say anything as I shut the door.

Without thinking, I walked over to the office door; unlocking it. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I pulled it open. And there she was. The killer.

"What took you so long?" She asked with a smile, walking in.

"Sorry, I thought I'd figured something out. I was in a little brainstorm session." The words formed without any prompt from myself.

"Oh right. What'd ya figure?" She walked over to her desk, frowning a little when she saw her sheets had been moved.

Fuck shit shit.

I quickly walked over, feeling like a deer in headlights.

"Well uh...the pictures I noticed that the smiles on them look the same as the ones Gale drew. He did like loads on my work booklet to piss me off so I was thinking we could also use that against him."

Gale was a rapist. But not a murderer.

"Ooh, Sherlock Holmes on the case." Trish giggled, brushing her hair back.

I tensely laughed back, mentally hitting myself for it.

It felt strange...but I wanted to hear something from her which would come from a killer. Because the Trish I thought I knew never acted crazed or psychotic. Just seeing evidence on paper wasn't the same.

"I know it's weird..." I trailed off slowly, "but don't you think, like, the knife work on the bodies looks really delicately done. Like someone took the time and effort to really do it."

She turned to me, a surprised grin on her face as she clasped her hands together.

"No way! Honestly, I thought it was just me. I don't want to sound psycho or anything but it looks like art."

Oh the irony. I couldn't see her in the same way, or look at her anymore without feeling scared.

I nodded in fake agreement, feeling myself stiffen as a small noise came from the cupboard. Harry stop. Fucking. Moving.

"Anyway, I just came to get this." She grabbed her notes which she had been making.

"I'll see ya later." Her arms wrapped around me in a tight hug. Get off me murderer. Get off me.