Seventeen.

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...

The words hang in the air between us, echoing in the silence. I'm not sure what to say or do, and apparently neither is Harry. We simply just stand there and look at each other.

"Why?"

I almost don't realize the words come out of my mouth. My voice sounds so foreign, quiet and unsteady.

Harry sighs, finally ripping his gaze from mine and kicking off his shoes. He trudges over to the sofa and throws himself down, sighing again. From where I'm standing I can only see the back of his head and I'm a bit thankful that I can't see his face.

"I don't know, really," he mumbles. I can hardly hear him so I take a step closer,

"What do you mean?" I inquire, trying not to sound as interested as I really am. I don't want to pry, it's really none of my business, but of course my mind finds a way to make it my business.

"It was just something I felt like I had to do. I don't know why I felt that way, I just..." he trails off, but doesn't finish his thought. "What happened?" He asks suddenly.

He turns around to peer at me over the back of the sofa. He gets up and walks around the sofa so he can sit on the back of it. He is now facing me, staring me plain in the face, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes burning my skin.

"She wouldn't tell me what happened or why you came here -"

"You told her I was here?" Panic washes over me, blocking my throat momentarily.

"No, I didn't, but she obviously knows you're not at home. So, what happened? Why are you here and not there?"

I relax, but not completely because my decision to answer his question or not is still laid out in front of me. I stay silent, not sure if I should tell him what my sister did or not. They aren't together anymore so I don't have to be afraid of being the cause of their break up. I do, however, have to worry about the reason why I decided to leave home.

I can't comprehend why it hurt so much that she was burning the pictures. I should have gotten rid of them a long time ago. Of course I was extremely furious that she had gone through my things and was burning them, but there was more to it. What she was doing hurt me, not just because she was destroying my property, but it was what she was destroying. She was burning my past, my memories. She was trying to remove Harry from my life and I wouldn't have it.

All I ever wanted since I left , I thought, was for Harry to be out of my life totally and completely, but I wasn't willing for it to actually happen.

"Did she do something?" Harry's deep voice cuts through my thoughts when I don't answer. "You need to tell me, Skylar."

"Why do I need to tell you?"

"I have the right to know why you're crashing at my place, don't you think?" He points out, raising an eyebrow.

I can't deny that he has a point, although I wish he didn't.

"We just had a fight," I shrug, staring down at my feet.

"That's what she said too, but I don't believe it. You wouldn't have left over a normal fight."

"How do you know what I would and wouldn't do?" I snap. I hate how he always has to be right.

"I know because since you've been back you and your sister have been at each other's throats. Something must have happened for you to finally leave," he says, his eyes trailing over my face slowly and trying to read my features. "What did she do?"

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