*The song for this chapter is The Neighbourhood - W.D.Y.W.F.M?*
Celeste
I remained silent the entire car journey from the massacre we left behind at Haze. I couldn't even begin to process the trauma that had occurred right in front of my eyes, the numbness had coursed through the entirety of my body and left me sat there with a bleak expression and a head full of unwanted thoughts. I was grateful in those moments that Harry wasn't chatting away in my ear and trying to fill the silence.
I wouldn't have even been able to form words to respond if I wanted to.
It was a strange reaction that I was experiencing in wake of the massacre; I wasn't fearful of dying, nor was I fearful of witnessing death. I'd become so desensitized to it all over the years that staring down the barrel of a gun was something that brought me a sick feeling of adrenaline. I lost all sense of rationale and fear in those moments. Nothing could have talked me down and made me see sense when the feeling of rage and hatred spread through me from my head to my toes.
I saw red in an instant.
It sounds deranged to say, but I don't resent my upbringing. I value my life more than a normal person would because I risk losing it every day. Papa said my weakness was the fact I act on impulse and emotion, but the truth is that's my strength. People don't walk all over me because I'm assertive and I know how to navigate the world I live in. If I had to lose all of my assets to lead a normal life, I wouldn't be Celeste Delgado.
"Celeste. We're here."
Harry's voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality as I turned to look at him. His piercing green irises were staring at me as he signaled for me to look out of the window. I turned my head towards the glass to see an apartment building standing tall behind some iron gates.
"Where are we?" I question, turning my attention back to him as he switched off the engine and held the keys between his fingers.
"We're at my apartment building. I didn't think it would be wise to return you home to your father with a broken hand and a face as pale as a ghost," he responded.
To my ultimate surprise, he didn't sound as if he was being sarcastic, or even arrogant. He sounded genuine in his concerns and the look on his face translated that.
I simply nodded in agreement, sliding his jacket off my shoulders to hand back to him but he shook his head instantly placing it back on my frame.
"Keep it on. You're shivering."
I hadn't even noticed in my numb state that my legs had been trembling the entire time. I hated the fact that my guard had been dropped in front of Harry; it made me feel weak and powerless in his presence.
I couldn't allow myself to be vulnerable.
Especially not around him.
I shook my head and slid the material back off my shoulders, handing it to him as I responded with, "Honestly, I'm fine."
He let out an exasperated sigh before taking the jacket and opening his car door to exit. I pulled the handle and let out a deep exhale as I felt the breezy night air hit my face. Feeling the oxygen fill my lungs after being sat in the car was an instant rush of serotonin for me. My hair flew around my face in the breeze, my eyes closing for a few seconds as I relished the feeling that was coursing through my veins.
Peace.
I opened my eyes to see Harry stood waiting for me at the iron gates, his eyes fixed on me the entire time. I made my descent towards him, wrapping my arms around myself as a form of metaphorical security. We made our way to the main doors, Harry pushing in the code to open the doors. When he pushed the door open, I was greeted with a brightly lit hallway and numerous black glossy doors. The decor was quite expensive; golden paint coated the walls along with symmetrically placed paintings along the hallway. I took a few steps in, my stiletto's tapping on the wooden flooring as I observed the paintings quickly in passing. Most of them were beautifully painted flowers in black frames; each frame possessed a different painting of a different flower.
Lillies, daisies, sunflowers, roses, tulips.
The list was endless.
"We need to take the elevator to the top floor unless you want to walk?" Harry's voice rang through the air, breaking me out of my trance-like state.
"Can we take the stairs?" I asked, turning my attention to him as he stood at the side of me with the jacket draped over his arm.
"Are you sure? It's twelve floors up and you're wearing heels," he responded, taking a look down at the stiletto's that were crippling my feet at this point.
I nodded as I tilted my head back towards the paintings that filled the walls before responding, "I'm positive."
He followed my gaze and nodded, placing his hand lightly on the lower of my back as he led me towards the direction of the staircase. The railings themselves were beautiful; they were glossed black to coordinate with the frames and doors of the building. My gaze automatically fixated on the walls again to take in the art that hung there in such beauty. Frames filled with different outlines of the human form in linework and abstract approaches lined the walls.
"I didn't know you had such a fondness for art," Harry commented, continuing to steady me lightly as we walked up the staircase to his floor.
"Art is one of the things that makes me instantly at ease," I replied, my gaze never leaving the walls that surrounded me in fear of missing something.
"What is it about the art that makes you feel at ease?" He asked as we turned to walk up to another flight of stairs.
I'd lost count at how many flights we'd walked up, but I knew I didn't want it to end.
"The way that the colours, the shapes, and the brushstrokes are able to tell a story, but the story is never definitive or set in stone because art is subjective to the observer. What I see in art is something that you might not see. We all interpret art differently."
He went silent for a few moments after my response, making the remainder of our journey be carried out in silence. We soon reached the top floor of the apartment complex, making a stop at the first door in the hallway. Harry pulled out his keys and pushed the door open, stopping briefly to flick the light on. He stepped to the side to allow me to walk in, my eyes scanning around the room to take in my surroundings.
His apartment was beautiful.
His lounge area was filled with sleek black leather furniture, which was a nice contrast to the white walls that were sparingly covered in a few pieces of artwork. His glass coffee table in the middle of the lounge area had a single vase of red roses in the middle. The area was minimalistic, which suited his style.
"If you take a seat on the couch I'll go and get the first aid box to bandage your hand," Harry spoke, pointing to the couch as he slung his jacket over the back of one of the barstools and closed the front door behind me.
I shook my head as I made my way into the lounge and replied, "You don't need to do that. I'll do it when I go home."
He made his way over to me, grabbing my wrist in a gentle manner as he observed my purple knuckles and bruised hand. He trailed his fingers over my hand softly, causing me to wince slightly as he cocked his head back up to meet my gaze.
"Celeste. Your hand is most definitely broken, and if not your hand entirely then your fingers definitely are. Sit down."
I pulled my hand out of his grasp as I turned on my heels and walked over to the leather couch. Sitting myself down on the furniture, I raised my uninjured hand to my hair and ran my fingers through the strands as I exhaled. The atmosphere in Harry's apartment was so calm that I could almost feel my racing thoughts begin to drift away.
I needed a cigarette.
I began to feel around my body when the realisation hit me that all of my belongings had been left at the club.
I jumped up to my feet as I shouted out, "Harry! I need to go back to the club, now! I've left everything there!"
Harry emerged not even seconds later, a cold compress and a first aid box in his hands as he approached me. He looked too calm and collected to even appear real to me in that frantic moment.
"Your phone, wallet, and keys are in my jacket pocket. Sit down and hold this on your hand," he replied, handing me the cold compress as I stood there with a puzzled expression on my face.
"How did you get my things with everything going on?" I questioned slowly, taking the compress and grimacing instantly at the painful feeling coursing through my damaged hand.
He turned back on his heels after placing the first aid box on the table, taking a few steps towards the breakfast bar barstool that his jacket was discarded on as he responded with, "I grabbed them before I came to your rescue. Wouldn't want to leave anything there as evidence now, would we?"
It made perfect sense for my belongings to be traceable evidence to the massacre; then again, the whole club was in my name, so it was a futile attempt.
"The clubs in my name, Harry. What good is that?" I stated, sitting myself down on the couch with the cold compress pressed to my hand.
Harry made his way back over to me with the jacket and a box of cigarettes with a lighter in his accompanying hand. He laid the jacket across my lap and sat down next to me, pulling out a cigarette and placing it between my chapped and dry lips.
"I'm sure your father will cover all of the issues that will arise, Celeste. You need to focus on yourself for once," he responded to me, raising his lighter up to my lips to light the cigarette in between my lips.
I rested the cold compress on my hand across my lap, raising one of my hands to remove the cigarette out of my mouth after I'd taken a long drag. The relaxed feeling spread through my body as I exhaled the smoke, instantly making me feel more level-headed.
A dry chuckle left my lips as I took another drag of the cigarette, the mention of Papa's name making me roll my eyes in the back of my head.
"Let's all thank Mr. Delgado for doing the absolute bare minimum" I dryly drawled out, pure liquid venom lacing my words as I focused my eyes on the wall ahead of me.
Harry leaned back on the couch, placing an ashtray on his thigh to allow me to discard the ash that was built upon the end of my cigarette. He cocked his head to the side as his eyes scanned my features in an attempt to read my face.
It was unreadable.
"You don't see any worth in yourself at all. Do you, Celeste?"
My throat went dry instantly at the question. My ability to form words and coherent sentences was ripped away from me at the vulnerability that I believed I was displaying. I kept my glazed-over eyes fixed on the wall in front of me as I drew the cigarette from my lips and passed it over to him. He plucked the cigarette from between my fingers, taking a drag himself as his irises stayed fixed on my features.
"What good would that do me in this world?"
Harry hung on to every syllable that left my lips at that moment; my voice as emotionless as my features. He put the cigarette out in the ashtray before placing it on the coffee table and leaning down to pick up the first aid box. He removed the cold compress from my hand, causing me to slightly wince at the feeling of relief being removed. He opened the box after he'd placed a cushion on my lap to elevate my hand for him bandaging it up.
"Do you ever wonder why you immerse yourself in art?" He asked, beginning to unwind the bandages from the box as he kept his gaze fixed on his task.
I looked over at him, my eyes searching his features as I replied, "I answered that for you earlier."
He raised his gaze to my hand as he gently lifted it up so he could begin the bandage wrapping process.
"What attracts you to floral art pieces?" He asked, firmly wrapping the bandages around my wounded hand so it would stay in place.
I furrowed my eyebrows at the question, not knowing how to respond because I'd never thought about it before. I shrugged my shoulders in response, not even understanding the point of the question.
"I see you like a flower."
I cocked my head, watching his skillful hands finish the bandage wrapping as I replied, "What do you mean?"
"You're a flower that's wilting and losing her petals as time goes on, right on cue like the methodical changing of the seasons, because you're neglecting yourself in order to keep other people alive."
The words rang through my ears and lingered in the air as I attempted to digest what Harry had just said to me. The metaphorical implications were so devastatingly beautiful and surreal that they genuinely left me speechless. The initial feeling of breathlessness that took over my body was soon replaced by fear.
Fear of being known.
I avoided eye contact with him as I scrambled to my feet, reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve my belongings. I didn't dare check my phone that was most likely filled with hundreds of missed calls.
"I need to go. Thank-you for bandaging my hand," I quickly thanked him, beginning to make my way to the door in a desperate need to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere that was circulating around me.
I heard him jump to his feet behind me as he called out, "Let me drive you home. I can't have you walking home alone at this time of the night."
I shook my head quickly, quickening my steps as I approached the door. I could feel the sickness rising up in my throat as I choked out, "I'll call Lana. I need to go, Harry."
I didn't hear another word as I bolted out of the door, closing it behind me.
I was fucked.
/. Oh, shit.