torpefy (verb): make (someone or something) numb, paralyzed, or lifeless
Noelle's POV
My back crunches as I twist, letting out a loud snap and I internally cringe at the revolting sound. Last night while all of us were gathered around the kitchen island eating Estelle's lovely lasagna, Harry and Klara took turns graciously playing out in strict detail how their trip to Jeremy's daughter's house went.
"She didn't recognize him," Harry had said, ''-but noted that he looked familiar."
I was anxious to find out the truth, but when am I not? Being fully prepared for an instance like this will never come. What needs to eventually happen is for me to reach that point where it isn't something I stress and worry about, which will only be the aftermath of locking away this killer. So for the meantime, I refrain from thinking in such a gruel way.
The air in our apartment is warm and light from the drawn curtains trails sunshine on the tile floor. The long roof-to-floor length curtains have always been one of my favorite details of this apartment, other than the breathtaking view and fact that Harry is always rooms away at farthest.
I decide to step up to the curtain and look down at the thriving streets. I can't wait for freedom. Being locked up in this apartment isn't completely terrible, but I miss leaving the city and venturing around to stores and malls. Until this is all over, I can't see myself going anywhere without fear of risking my life.
Skyscrapers tower over this small apartment building but cast the most delicate glow of shadows and perfect lighting. The glistening pavement sparkles under the harsh rays of sun and for once I feel like smiling out of pure happiness. I've been happy, but nature at its finest is a different type of happy. The type of joyousness that makes you want to gleam and clean and absorb the fresh air. Not even the sky is tampered with one stuffy cloud, but blindingly blue considering our latest weather forecasts.
New York City has always been bipolar, though, so this scene will be temporary. One day it will be pouring down hail, the next snow, and then the following it will turn out like this. The weather seems to match my personality in a way. I'm worried, happy, concerned, frightened, and then happy again - more so than before, at least.
The thought of Royce seeing the security camera footage from the night I assisted Estelle creates a deep, dark corner in my mind. What if he finds out and tattles? I wouldn't blame him because what I did was wrong, illegal and very sketchy. I betrayed the department's trust and even Des' because he was the one who confirmed that I could stay and help. With Harry's strong persuading, that is.
Reliving those days is quite strange. Harry and I were in an awkward place, we barely knew each other and were practically forced to spend every waking second together. Obviously I had always liked Harry, even some-what from the first time I met him. It was the constant time spent with him that helped me infiltrate his mind and learn about how it works. Basically, his looks drew me in and his amazing personality made me stay. I'm one of the only few people that has ever seen this side to him and I am proud to announce that. The other people he kept this close have all passed, and I sincerely hope I don't have the same fate.
Before my thoughts can wander to a dark place, wondering what Harry would do if I did die - if he would move on or cry or just give up, though I doubt he would, I hope he would - I place my hand on the warm glass and stare into my reflection.
My cheeks look more lively and something about my reflection staring back at me makes me feel older. Not in a physical sense, but in a perception of maturity. These few months have made me grow up, see the world, find myself to lose myself again, and then be shown the wonders of what life can really be. I no longer worry about what my mother thinks of me, just how I wish we would have a real mother-daughter relationship instead of this nonexistent bond.
I don't even worry about my future, which was a main concern for me back in school. I'd always worry about jobs, where I wanted to permanently occupy, how I would get there, if anyone would be with me; all these worries seem so distant and petty. Now I know the answer because wherever Harry is, that is where I want to reside.
My eyes trail back up into my reflection to be met with a pair of blazing green eyes, a smile on his face and a ponytail tying back his hair. I make a mental sticky note to tease him for his new fashion trend later.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I ask, ticking my head down to the city. I love the view.
"Yeah, it is," his eyes don't leave mine while he says it and I smile, knowing we both meant different things. This moment takes me back to the morning Harry and I were sitting in the sill with a cup of tea. I took it skeptically and was surprised because previously I'd never liked tea. My strictly-based coffee days are over now.
"How did you sleep?" Harry asks, coming to stand beside me. His arms cross over his chest as he stares down at the city, shirtless and beautiful. His alluring presence alone makes me redirect my eyes to the sight.
"Well enough, you?"
"Same," he shrugs.
"Are you nervous?"
"About what?"
"Everything," I shrug. It's a very vague question, but I need to hear him say that I am not the only one severely worried about this case. Internal Affairs must captivate his mind, too. I know for certain that it's something I dwell on at night before I fall asleep.
"Yeah," Harry sighs, running a hand over the stubble on his cheeks. Plopping that same hand down to his thigh, he adds, "I know I shouldn't be calm about it but I am trying to stay placid. We won't know what to expect until the time comes, so why waste this precious time angry when I can be happy right here with you?"
Lovingly, Harry wraps both his arms under mine and brings me close to his stomach, squeezing me as near to him as possible. The smell of his cologne lingers faintly on his skin and I relish in the moment, dropping my head back onto his shoulder; a kiss is placed on my temple as I close my eyes. I can feel the deep trust he has in me, and the loving passion he has bathed me in over these few months.
''This will all be over soon," he promises. "Then we are getting the hell out of here."
"What?" My head immediately straightens and he loosens his grip.
This is new information to me.
"We are leaving New York once this shit mess is terminated." Harry says with a straight face and I am too shocked to speak. My heart swells at the idea of him wanting to be with me later on, but I can't help but panic.
"Do I have a say in this?"
"Of course," he chuckles nonchalantly. "I wasn't just going to pack up your shit and throw you over my shoulder on the way to the airport. It doesn't have to be immediately after, but don't you want to just escape this hell?"
"What about your job at the department and your friends?" I quiz, ignoring his question.
"What about them?"
"You wouldn't see them again." His casual attitude has thrown me off.
"It isn't like we're dying, El," he laughs. "Just moving. We can still come and visit."
"Occasionally,'' he adds as a forethought.
"How long have you thought about this?" My whole attitude has been uprooted. Living in another city? Or would we go to a suburb? Would it be back to England or in another country? Would I be able to transfer colleges? What about my family, or his? What would Harry do for a living? What if we ever broke up and he-
"Noelle, calm down!" Harry teases and twists me around, shaking my shoulders lightly. The fear and utter panic in my eyes amuses him slightly, but the way he rubs his hands up and down the backs of my forearms helps calm my irrational worries. "Don't worry about it right now."
"Then when will I?" I ask rhetorically. "We need a plan and an escape route if-"
"El-"
"-we are going to move far away."
"You're not listening to me," Harry chuckles.
"Would I have to learn a new language?" My face is in complete horror.
"What? No!" His dimples protrude in a large, humorous smile. ''El, we would be moving, not running from the government or assassins." His body shakes with laughter and I realize how dramatic I am being. "I didn't think you'd be so freaked out. Never mind about it now."
"I'm not freaked out.." I start, uncertain. "It just took me by surprise."
"Well, let's not think about it anymore. Royce is coming over to discuss some things with me and I still have to shower." Harry plants both his palms on either side of my head and presses a delicate kiss to my forehead, while my eyes are still wide in shock and excitement.
Maybe it would be a good idea to start fresh and clean?
"Don't slip!" I call as he disappears down the hall, knowing how clumsy he is.
"Not likely!"
Rolling my eyes, I look back down at the city. "Do I really want to leave this so soon?" My question obviously goes unanswered; sirens and taxi cab horns would be the only plausible response. I tap the glass with my knuckle and descend back to my old bedroom, unclear of my desires and very confused with the idea itself.
-
My cell phone has been buzzing the whole entire time that I have been cleaning all the tacky Halloween decorations in the apartment. Royce has knocked on the door and I let him in, disregarding his presence because he looked stiff as a board and determined to set up his laptop equipment.
Each ratty decoration is set delicately in a trash bag, which have become many, by the shaft door. Estelle can have these back whenever I see her next. One thing I acquired from my mother is my hate for dramatic decorations. Christmas lights would still be hanging on tress and rooftops even until mid-July, and that would piss her off to a large extent.
As much as I would love to sit and give a list of reasons why I am nothing like my mother, the resemblances are uncanny. Not only physically mirrored, but maturity level and reasoning wise. We both are hard-working and believe ourselves to be smart. I'm cocky when I feel confident enough to be, and she's done so as well. The only difference in our distinct personalities is that she didn't have nearly as much heart as brain.
When the divorce split my family right in the middle, she threw herself into her work and neglected me. Instead, I was hoping the complete opposite would occur. When that didn't come about, I threw myself into school and the anti-social life of an educated college student. It worked until my kidnap, and I believe that if it wouldn't have ever happened, I'd be unhappier than I stand today.
What a turn of events, I think to myself while grabbing the fuzzy spider with dusty fur off the counter. I cringe while setting it in a trash bag, hauling it to the shaft and leaving it be. Almost the whole apartment has been cleansed of such distasteful knick-knacks, so I take this victory as an escape for a glass of water.
When I enter, my eyes meet Royce's back as he examines our empty, expansive fridge.
"Sorry," he apologizes, closing the door. "I got hungry."
"No, it's fine," I promise him, stepping onto the stool after gathering a warm bottle of water from the counter. It will have to do for now. "Take whatever you can find." The cap on my drink is hard to screw open, so I use my teeth and it opens immediately.
Royce solemnly nods to my plea and decides on an expired vanilla yogurt from the bottom drawer of the fridge. I don't remember ever buying that product, and by the way it slops uneasily from his spoon and lands back in the container, it looks like he is debating whether to be rude or acquire food poisoning.
"On second thought, I think I'll pass," he recoils.
"You might be better off going for something less.. frankly, disgusting. That looks like," donkey semen, "-cow vomit. Not that I would know anything about that," I add the last part quickly, tossing fifth grade's field trip back into the forever-sealed vault of unimportant and very embarrassing memories.
Harry would have laughed at the vulgarity of my mind, but I doubt Royce would find the same humor - but displeasure and unmannerly conduct as an extreme turn off. Then again, Harry did claim it was Royce's Playboy magazine under his couch the day we were painting my designated room.
Looking back, it seems like a waste to of spent money on paint and taken furniture out of Harry's warehouse to decorate the space with, but there is no way he would have known we would be sharing a bed and living quarters quite this closely.
I, on the other hand, was always nothing less than hopeful.
"How is Winnie?" I ask, tapping the counter with my fingernail.
"I haven't seen her since last night," Royce shrugs, pealing a banana. Harry isn't going to like him taking the last banana from the shelf.. I laugh at the thought. Although, it's unhealthy how strong his love for the fruit is, and slightly worrying at times.
"Is that so?" I raise a brow, a sinister smile on my face.
"If you are implying that we would have seen each other since, you're wrong."
"Would you want to?"
"Does it matter?" He shrugs. "She's engaged and way out of my league."
"Why do you think that? You're a cute and kind guy. Yeah a little nerdy, but that is a quirk of yours."
His eyes look sheepish to my compliment as he smiles and sits across from me. Royce is one of the most caring men I have ever met, next to Harry. He is kind and smart and funny, and to be honest, not an eye soar. His spiked dirty blonde hair and red-rimmed glasses are kind of adorable.
"Winnie is too out-going for me," he shrugs again, leaning onto the counter.
I do the same with my arms and speak, "Too out-going? Please!"
"It's true!" He screeches, blushing. "Her personality is so bold, I feel like I would be casted in her shadow. Winnie is smart, but she would never even think twice about a guy like me. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself or deal with her army-brat boyfriend." He sneers at the mention.
"You don't know that he is an army-brat."
"I'm hoping he is just so I have a reason to hate him."
"Hate is a strong word," I smile, not able to hold back my ravishing mind.
"I still stand to my word. There will be no love affairs from me. I hate drama and my life as a freak behind the computer desk in a dark room with no windows sounds mighty encouraging right now." Royce chuckles, crossing his arms.
"Had you met her before last night?" I ask, curious. I remember asking Harry for her whereabouts and how she showed up but all he knew was that she had come with Royce's posse of friends. She must be really smart to get along with them. Nerds tend to stick to brains over beauty; in her case, she holds both.
"No," he says with uncertainty.
I smile. "Why do I sense you're fibbing me?"
"Fibbing?"
"Harry says the word liar is a mean word, that fibbing is less-" I stop myself, that isn't the point. "You are fibbing me shit and I know it." My smirk becomes concrete stone and his cheeks brighten to an apple-red shade. "How'd you know her?"
"Okay, I hadn't known her.. exactly."
I raise a brow.
"I'd seen her around before.."
"No," I shake my head at the thought spiraling in my mind. "Have you stalked her before?!"
"What? No!" He says while my palms slap down on the counter with humorous force.
"You're lying!"
"You mean fibbing?" He chuckles.
"Don't try to change the subject, you have seen her around before and noticed her multiple times. That is so cute," I add to lessen his embarrassment. I'm glad he feels comfortable enough to speak to me about this topic of his life. Royce truly is a great friend.
"When you see a beautiful girl driving around in a sporty Jeep, you remember her," Royce shrugs.
"Oh my God." I shake my head, flatly.
"What?"
"You called her beautiful."
"And?" He nervously squints his four-eyes.
"You must be shit deep if you called her beautiful and not hot."
"That's an insane logic and completely bullshit."
"It's a fact," I note, pointing my finger in the air. "When guys truly like a girl, they call them beautiful or stunning. If they are just trying to get in her pants, then they will say something bilious like she's hot or I want to bang her or-"
"Can we not talk about this? Ever?" He cuts me off, pleadingly.
"Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"Extremely." Royce nods with awkwardness, adjusting his glasses and laying the peel of the empty banana on the granite counter top.
"Then I rest my case." My hands surrender into the air, plopping back onto the counter.
My heart swells for the boy with a high-school-like crush. His lack of self-confidence in the female field is quite surprising. All I have ever seen him is cocky and joking around. This just proves that he is confident in his range of specialty and not with the ladies.
"Let's talk Girl 101," I add and he glares.
"I thought we agreed to stop talking about this?"
"I said I would, but you can still tell me what you know."
"I appreciate this, Noelle. But I am all tired out on girls right now."
I study his eyes before sighing. "Fine."
"Thank you."
"To be continued," I warn and stand from the stool. His smile returns when I trip over the bar that my foot was resting on and slam back down onto the counter. "You didn't see that nor will you speak of that to anyone, got it?" I crack a smile while trying to be dead serious.
"My lips are sealed." Raising a hand to the corner of his lips, he pretends to lock his lips and tosses the imaginary key over his shoulder. I squint when a metal sound is heard tapping a surface when there are no real keys on the floor, only to turn around and see Harry dropping his set of car keys on the counter.
"Oh, hi," I smile while gazing at his wet hair but he doesn't return it. "Are you okay?"
"I'm going to go finish setting up," Royce excuses himself, noticing the immediate tension suddenly filling the room with Harry's new-found presence. His body slides from the stool and eases around Harry's tall frame to walk into the living room, closing the shutter door behind him.
"Is something wrong?" I worry, crossing my arms. The silly Harry this morning that was wrapping his arms around my stomach and promising to take me away from this, quoted, "hell hole" is no longer in sight but instead a browbeat man with an angry vibe.
"No," he belittles, walking around me disrespectfully. I'm not used to him not even staring me in the eyes and I don't know what he could possibly be mad at. Did he find out about Nate? Did his father call him while he was showering? Was he fired?
"Is there something you aren't telling me?" My voice is small so Royce doesn't hear, but inside I want to scream it and end the torture. I guess this is payback for my sudden quietness when spilling my guts the other day.
"No,'' he repeats coldly, adding, "Is there something you aren't telling me?"
Shit.
"Why do you ask?" I defensively stand up taller and watch him act carelessly like it doesn't even bother him, when, without a doubt, I can tell he is pissed. His muscles protrude harshly under his shirt as his arms reach out and grip the cabinet handle, flinging it open loudly.
"Be careful with that, it will break." I reprimand, but internally don't care about the furniture. I just don't want our guest to hear what I know is coming. The same look occupied Harry's eyes when he was fighting Arthur at the bar, except now there is no alcohol in his system which makes what he will say worse. These words won't be a repercussion of bad influence, but what he really feels deep down. And I am not ready for whatever it is he has to say.
"It's my cabinet, so who gives a shit?" He slams it back shut, making me jump in my stance. I falter but quickly repair what little strength left in me before he notices. I haven't even been hit with words yet but I feel like a bomb has blown in my face. Not knowing what he is thinking is what scares me the most.
"But it's only me, right?" He devilishly chuckles. "Not anyone important, apparently."
"What?" My mouth falls open. "What are you talking about? Of course you are important to me, I love you."
"Don't lie to me." He spits. "How long has this gone on? How could you not tell me?"
Nate. He found out about Nate.
"How'd you know?" I ask, fumbling for words. My mind has gone into a state of shock and refuses to process the right reassuring words to my mouth. Instead, I stand like a fool with a crimpling state of expression.
"Sorry for ruining your plans and finding out," he scoffs, slamming a cup on the counter. "I ruin everything. No one ever tells me shit. Do I even exist in this world? Why do I never get told anything?!" Harry shouts and I bite my lip. He needs to let it all out. Seeing him yell is better than him saying nothing at all.
"I was going to tell you," I fight the tears in my eyes.
"Then why didn't you?! Were you just going to string me along like a fool?" He belittles.
"I was going to tell you right after-"
"After I slept with you?" His harsh tone shuts me up. "After I told you how much I loved you and that I wanted to move away with you? After I singlehandedly gave every piece of myself to you?!" Losing his self control, one of his palms slams down onto the marble counter and a large crack sounds in the air.
"Harry, you're going to break-!" another pound slams down on the counter and I fight to keep myself unattached to the feelings of guilt and hate I feel for doing whatever made him feel this terrible. This is a new mad, one I have yet to see more than once.
"Who the fuck cares, Noelle?!" He shouts, swatting at the mugs in our cabinet and as the glasses fall to the floor in slow motion, I blink rapidly trying to figure out how this even happened. "Oh, that's right, I am the only one who cares!" He laughs dangerously.
"What are you talking about?" I walk toward him. "Of course I care!"
"For who? Yourself?" Harry scoffs, haughtily. "I know you don't care for me."
"How could you say that?" What the hell has made him think this way? The cruelty he is spitting isn't hurting me nearly as much as I see the pain behind his eyes. This isn't his father's doing, I can tell that much. This is him finding out about Nate.
"I love you!" I repeat, angry this time.
Hot tears form in my eyes and blur my vision, but not because I feel bad for myself - because I was the one who hid this from him and caused him to be so hurt. But the fact that the way he is looking at me is like I am a stranger to him. Harry looks defeated and I don't know how the hell I am supposed to explain anything if he won't let me.
"No you don't!" He yells at the same time I hear the kitchen shutter swing open. "You cheated on me!"
What?
"Oh look," Harry growls, light sparking in his eyes as he stares over my shoulder and to the kitchen entrance. I immediately know who is standing there and my heart pushes through the barrier of my clothes and pulses loudly in my ears like a white silence.
"The man of the hour has arrived."
Sorry for yet another cliffhanger but they are so fun and add so much suspense, especially in the last few chapters of this book! But more importantly, DOES ANYONE UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH OF AN EFFECT DRAG ME DOWN HAD/HAS ON ME?! ERMAGERD.
I was just about to go to bed at around 1:30am and then boom! They released it and from that moment on (until 4am), I sat laying in bed listening to it on repeat. This is literally the 1D that the world needs to hear. So let's all share a group hug and high five for getting it to #1 on iTunes and breaking the record for fastest single to top the charts. I'm so proud of the boys, I can't even. Just nobody touch me, 'kay? Gah!
One more thing, 21 Murders just reached 7K votes yesterday, so thank you so much! When I started this book, it was off a whim, so to see it grow and make people happy, it truly gives me initiative to come out with a banging sequel! Please remember to vote and comment, it helps me know you're still into Harryelle!
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- Dani xx