Vile | H.S |

Chapter 3.

"Stay warm, my love. I'll be back within the hour," Harry whispered into Carter's ear as she had fallen asleep while her petite body was entangled in the silk sheets of Harry's bed. She was tired from the nightmare that had kept her from sleeping for a few days, so she had stayed up for long periods of time; watching TV, reading, and writing. She did all that she could to steer away from falling asleep. The soft bags protruded from beneath her brown eyes. She had now finally gotten some rest, after Harry gave her some sleep medicine. Nothing too unsafe, just a pill for restless sleepers.

Harry exited his own bedroom and made a right to head down the hall towards the closed office. The light had shined through the tiny space under the door, the door was locked. Harry kept the key with him at all times. In his pocket, when he slept it went in his safe that had another key in which was hidden in his pillow case.

He shoved his hand into his jean pocket, searching for the rusty metal handcrafted key. It was deep in his pocket, almost like he was swimming to the bottom of the ocean to retrieve it. Soon his fingertips felt cold, against a hard surface; the key. He wrapped his hand around the piece of metal and pulled it out of his pocket. Harry placed his left hand on the door knob and his right hand stuck the key into the hole on the knob. He jiggled it slightly as he turned it to the right, unlocking the private room. He pushed open the matte black door without a creak heard, it seemed to be the only door that was kept well polished, clean and greased every so often.

Harry entered the room and shut the door behind him while keeping the key in his pocket. He locked the door so that if Carter did wake soon, she wouldn't see the room. He turned his back around to face the room. The office was small, but there were pictures of missing girl posters everywhere, all over the walls. The room was practically covered in them. He examined his office, staring down along the wooden floor; the only room in the house with freshly polished flooring. The walls were painted an off white, but there was no way of even seeing the walls when it was all covered by missing girl posters from ten to fifteen years ago, all the way to the posters from Whitney Young's disappearance.

There were a few tables in the room, two against the right side of the wall right beside one another. One with a computer and the other filled with papers, crumpled up ones and fresh sheets. A typewriter was right beside the crumpled up pieces of paper. Harry's eyes bounced from the tables to the small couch in the corner, beside the door. That couch was used very rarely; only to take a break from what he was researching and writing about.

Harry walked towards the old office chair that he had in his office and pushed it towards the desk, before taking a seat in it. He cracked his knuckles and pulled the typewriter towards him. He clicked each key with pressure, yet also great care. His eyes watched as the ink pressed into the paper before him.

"Whitney Young. Didn't fight. Just told me to kill her, so I did even though I'd do it whether she told me to or not. She had a floral skirt on and a plain white t-shirt that had been screaming for blood stains. She was beautiful but even more beautiful in the spot where I buried her. That is even too much of a secret to write down. Never will I tell. Ever."

Harry took his hands off the typewriters keys and removed the piece of paper from the machine before placing it in a manila folder and into a drawer in the desk. That drawer also had a key in which was kept under a glass jar of pencils, taped at the bottom of it. As he closed the drawer and put the key back beneath the pencil jar, Harry stood from the chair, pushing it in close to the desk. He made his way to the matte black door, putting his hand on the knob and turning it right. He left the office before shutting the door, after he had gotten out to the hallway, and locked it shoving the key back into his pocket.

Harry walked down the narrow hallway of his apartment before taking a peek into his bedroom, finding that Carter was still in a deep sleep. She looked so peaceful and warm. He didn't want to bother her, for he continued to walk down the hall towards the kitchen and living room. The apartment was quiet. The rain still tapped along the thick glass of the windows. It had been raining for several days at this point. The thunder rolled in the distant sky but there hadn't been much lightning.