shadow [h.s.]

s i x t h

The library was nuts. We managed to find a reasonable parking spot relatively close to the building. After all, it was Friday- the library was already busy, and the concurring murder didn't help the situation.

Harry looked awkwardly at the ground. I soothed my arm up and down his as we walked to the door. "It's okay, Harry. You were with me all morning, there's no way that you could've killed her." He said nothing, but I did not blame him. He had just been accused of murder- one he definitely didn't commit.

Mr. Denton was speaking to some reporters at the door, but he smiled when he saw me- then abruptly frowned when he saw Harry (who, I might mention, was wearing an orange jumpsuit and an ugly Christmas sweater which definitely clashed). Mr. Denton rushed up to me, folding his arms in front of himself. "Skyler Jacobs-" he started, but I extended a hand towards him.

"No, Denton, you listen to me. Harry- er, I mean, Mr. Styles," I added awkwardly. Harry grinned a bit, and that warmed my heart. "is with me, and I need to take a look at that body."

Mr. Denton nodded curtly and led me inside, past some reporters. They all looked shocked to see Harry, and shouted questions at him. Some threw insults in his direction. Looking back on it now, I realize how strong Harry was in that moment. He said nothing. He moved silently, throughout the spitballs and insults being thrown in his direction. I, however, was a coward.

I said nothing.

I didn't rebuff the reporters, didn't ask them to stop. Didn't reassure Harry. I did nothing, absolutely nothing. That was my first mistake.

Mr. Denton showed me the body of Kitty Jones- employee of the library, lived around the place where I grew up. She had been shot in the bathroom- she died instantly. The gun had been carelessly thrown on the floor, but the fingerprints of Harry Edward Styles were all over the gun.

I studied Harry out of the corner of my eye. He sat on one of the provided chairs, twiddling his fingers. Several people passed him by, eyeing him and some insulting him. I still did nothing. He looked so out of place, so uncomfortable. If I had known how the whole affair would turn out, I would've done something. But that was my problem- and it had been my problem, since Grade 2- the day Eddie gave me back my balloon. I took, never gave. I was selfish.

The fingerprints were Harry's, alright- all over the gun. I exhaled and shook my head. "I don't understand, Charles," I murmured. "Harry was with me all morning."

Mr. Denton's eyes narrowed. "T-that's impossible. H-he had to have been here, had to have killed her." He paused, nostrils flaring. "She was killed at 10:34 this morning. Are you sure you were with him?"

I nodded vigorously. "Of course!! Besides, even if I wasn't," I stepped closer. "He's in Bentley. I mean, c'mon. He can't have escaped."

Mr. Denton threw a glance towards Harry. I continued on, seeing my chance. "Look, Charles. As of today I have interviewed 56 murderers, all except one were guilty." I swallowed. "Wanna know which one that was?"

Mr. Denton didn't respond, I know he understood. Sighing, I continued. "Doesn't it seem a little strange to you that the murderer had placed these fingerprints blatantly on the gun? I mean, if you were a murderer, would you not cover your tracks? Wear gloves? And not shoot someone in a public library?"

Mr. Denton remained silent, until he confessed. "Harry has a strong alibi, particularly because he was with you." A pause. "I'll have to take this to the Sergeant."

We talked for a few more moments, about the case and about Harry. There was only me, Mr. Denton, Harry and a janitor in the building.

Or, so I thought.

But a lone figure, standing in the shadows wearing a blue pea coat, discredited that thought.

-x-

The next morning, I strode up to my office confidently. With my Timmie's in one hand and my purse in the other, I smiled brightly to everyone who passed me by. I didn't know why, but I was happy. Genuinely.

And the fact that I got to see Harry again made me even more happy.

I reached my office and paused when I saw Fred, the guard from Bentley, leaning over Harry in a menacing way. His grip on Harry's arm looked atrocious, and Harry's face was twisted in pain. I cleared my throat and Fred shifted awkwardly past me and into the hall.

I approached Harry, eyebrows furrowed. His breathing was heavy and sporadic; it scared me. "Are you okay?" I asked, and he didn't respond for a moment.

"Yeah," he said in a breathy tone. "I'm great," he murmured. But his voice betrayed him; it was full of pain and trouble.

I reached out and touched his arm in the lightest fashion. He winced and cursed, throwing his head back onto the chair. I gasped and put my coffee and purse down, kneeling down beside Harry and rolling his sleeve up. The sight I saw made my stomach turn.

His whole arm was consisting of bruises and cuts, slashes. The blood was dried and red- signalling me it was fairly recently inflicted upon the only person who didn't deserve this kind of treatment- Harry Edward Styles.

His green eyes opened into mine and he breathed my name in a way that made my heart flutter. He grasped for my hand, and when I enveloped it in mine, the feeling I received was heartbreakingly real and perfect. It wasn't anything I had ever felt with Leighton.

I smoothed a hand over his forehead and intertwined my fingers in his curls. "Who did this to you?" I asked softly, murmuring in a tone that only lovers use.

He shrugged. "Sometimes.... Fred." He didn't have to say anything else. I understood, in a sad way that only those who have experienced abuse will understood.

I lifted my hand from his head and took Harry in my arms. He was startled at first; tense and rigid, but then he relaxed in the embrace and even threw his arms around my hips. "Harry," I whispered into his ear. "If they do this to you again, you tell me, okay?"

Harry nodded, acting like a little child. The way he did broke my heart and fixed it, all in the same moment. Love is so funny like that. But was I in love with Harry? I was supposed to be in love with Leighton. But nothing I did with Leighton felt like this. Nothing felt so right, so wrong- all in the same breath.

But, in that moment, everything I felt with Harry was dashed to pieces, when I heard the door open behind me and Leighton interject, "Skyler? What are you doing?"

duh duh daaa. whoo hoo for cliffhangers and surprise updates.

lots of love!

-beth