"What do we say to my mom?" I ask next to him on the passenger side of the car, watching him drive. Light eyes staring ahead, jaw sharpened by the way he bites down occasionally from tension, hands reluctant to stay stationary on the steering wheel of his car.
"I don't know. But we've got to get both of you out of there," he murmurs, eyes stationed in front of him but his thoughts aside somewhere around the topic of what lies we'll tell my mother. Lying to her does not set well inside of me, but for the time being it will do.
I stare aimlessly at the road, watching the light turn from red to green just as we reach it. "I could convince her to go to my grandmother's for the week as a short vacation."
"Where does she live?" He questions instantly.
"She's the only relative I could think of in Newport. Thirty five minutes or so away," I explain, flickering my eyes from the road to my bag, about to dig through to find my phone only to realize I've broken it when I threw it to the floor at Harry's apartment.
Harry doesn't seem to agree with my suggestion. My eyebrows furrow. "What? I can't just tell her let's move across the country. It makes no--"
"That's not what I'm thinking," he interjects firmly. "I'm thinking -- you're not safe. Neither of you are. My sister isn't. Katherine isn't, even Nathan..." his low voice falters until it comes to a stop, shaking his head and squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles flush white.
Lips parted and eyes squeezing shut in a reaction to the way we're rationalizing with a situation as deeply concerning and dangerous and blatantly insane, I whisper, "We need to go to the cops."
"They'll say the same thing!" He shouts impatiently as I open my eyes, slamming his hand down to the front of the wheel with fury. I don't react. "They aren't going to do shit except make this JKP author highly aware that we're onto him."
"I doubt JKP doesn't know that by now," I respond restlessly, distress strewn across my face; narrowed eyes, furrowed eyebrows, grimace crossing my full lips. "Can we please just...calm down and talk about this."
The car comes to a stop as he parks into the parking lot of my apartment building. My eyes wander across it, staring into the window of the first floor. Where Kennedy lives, who also just happens to have eerily similar initials as the author of the articles.
"I don't know about this.." I breathe, feeling my heartbeat accelerate with slightly increasing adrenaline. My eyes find Harry's, and he watched me carefully with a hard gaze, stolid and unfazed. But regardless, he grips my hand in his, entwining our fingers and giving me a squeeze.
"I'm every bit to blame for this," he tells me quietly, inhaling deeply. "I love you enough to admit that this is a consequence of some unfathomable curse," he chuckles bitterly then, but the pain is obvious in the nervous details on his face, creating a frown as he quickly blinks.
A shaky breathe leaves my parted lips. "It's not a curse," I steady my voice, proceeding gently. "Obviously, someone wants to cause harm. And we can't possibly think we can handle the threats on our own. We have to tell someone...Harry..."
He's silent, leaning back into the carseat and tipping his chin up, shutting his eyes. His chest rises and falls in deep rhythm. I watch warily.
"We can tell Erin. Or Katherine, baby. These are people that will listen to you. Like I'm trying to listen right now. But we can't do this..this way." I unbuckle my belt and lean forward, pressing my hands against his jaw prickly with unshaven hairs, urging him to look towards me. He does, wary eyes gazing at me.
He leans forward a bit, our lips touching softly. Our silence is short lived as a commotion is heard, and we pull away to look towards the front door of the building. A blonde-haired figure waits at the front door, pressing the first floor buzzer.
My lips part in utter shock, heart rapidly and mercilessly pounding against the inside of my chest. I sharply inhale, sputtering, "Is that.."
"Deborah?" Harry inquires with as much astonishment and shock. Our silence prevails, now with tension, as my pale, buzzed-cut neighbor opens the door. A grin appears on his face, and in my pure disgust, I watch as Kennedy leans forward and presses a noticeable kiss to her lips. He grips her hand and invites her in, and she doesn't seem reluctant to follow.
"Harry..." I whisper apprehensively, meticulous eyes staring as the door shuts behind Deborah. I part my lips in thought, frozen as a chill rushes up my spine. Realization sets in. "The text messages," I stammer suddenly, shakily.
"What?" Harry breathes, stilled body and distressed face firm with perplexity.
I sit up quickly. "She knows.." I mumble to myself, infuriating Harry as he's left in the dark to panic.
"Tara," Harry snaps.
My eyes meet Harry's but my mind is nowhere to be found. "He stabbed Fin. The text messages said that Kennedy stabbed Fin," I sputter with panic, letting go of Harry's hand, the grip having already lost its strength beforehand. "He-he was watching. He knew Deborah was pissed with you because you punched Cassiel."
"But Deborah would never go that far..." he swallows harshly, shaking his head. "She wouldn't...The whole thing was forgotten!"
"If she broke into your apartment earlier," I remark, "Who knows what she's capable of. And you said Cassiel was pissed over the rumors about your father's supposed corruption. Harry...it's all there. Those things have to have some connection."
"She's not pissed about Cassiel anymore by the looks of it. Kennedy seems to have her on a leash. What was she doing in my place?"
"Stealing your meds for some screwed up thing he's putting her up to," is all I could think of to say. "I don't know. But she clearly doesn't care about Cassiel anymore. Maybe she found out about Cassiel's fling with Xavier."
Harry blinks, shaking his head. "Okay, okay. Back up. But if the text messages told you about Kennedy, then who the fuck is JKP? Because their initials match up. It's quite odd that--"
"Kennedy is definitely involved with JKP. But because he screwed up and stabbed Fin, not you, JKP ratted him out to me," I explain quickly, startled with everything that's coming together, wide eyes looking between the apartment building and Harry.
Harry watches me, feeling the same overwhelming sensation of ominous tension. "JKP wants us to call the cops on Kennedy," he whispers. "But with what proof?"
I think for a second, unable to process all of the information. I gulp, stammering, "Deborah," I finally say, voice full of apprehension. "What if he's going to kill her?" I'm too many steps ahead of Harry. I'm about to unlock the door, when Harry stops me. I look to him with panic, eyes wide and bewildered as to why he was stopping me.
"Wait, baby, I can't let you go in there. What if JKP is not just one person? What if it's three of them?" He questions firmly, eyeing me down. "All of this is too much for one person. All the knowing and the watching. They'd have to be at many places at once.
My body chills and I swallow harshly. I frown and shake my head, looking to the apartment and wanting to go in there and put a stop to this. Answering Harry quickly, "It makes no sense. Kennedy has the initials in a different order.."
"Then what if it's people who just happen to have those three letters in their initials? Disregarding the order?" Harry asks suddenly, sudden realization flooding through him. "It could be."
I sigh. "Who else do you know that might have the letters J, K, and P in their initials?"
"I don't know but..."
The door opens, and out comes Deborah. Our heads turn quickly and we suddenly freeze. Her head turns back as she waves goodbye to Kennedy. His smile is wide even as he shuts the door behind him. Deborah glances around herself, finding a pacy jog towards her car. Kennedy follows opposite into his own car. The same one that followed us to the breakfast place that one time. My eyes squint in suspicion and also confusion. What the hell is she doing there? What could she possibly be involved with here?
"She's not dead," Harry states monotonously, inhaling deeply.
I can't stop watching even as her car pulls out of the lot and out into the main street. My head shakes slowly, lips parted as my brain strains with thoughts. "This...what could she be possibly doing for him? Stealing your meds? For what?!" I'm suddenly loud, growing frustrated. My fisted hands smack against my jean clad thighs, patience hanging by a deteriorating thread. Distraught with stinging eyes and exhausted voice, I panic, "Harry, we don't know anything about what the hell is going on."
"He's gone...We might be able to find something out.."
I rub my eyes in distress, sighing out an agitated breath. "I'm terrified we're going to see something we shouldn't. And God...why the fuck is she hanging around Kennedy suddenly! Why is she doing any of this?!"
"Tara, right now we have no clue what the hell this is. We have to relax. I've dealt with it before, I can do it again."
"No," I snap, glassy eyes glaring at him as he stares back. "We have to go to the cops. Or tell your family. This JKP could actually be more than just one person."
"Tara.." He calls as I keep fidgeting, running my hands harshly through my hair, unable to sit still. "Tara!" He calls again, eyebrows furrowed deeply, light eyes blown with distress trying to locate my serenity for me. I glance over at him, eyes bloodshot and furious. "Tara, baby, we know nothing about this. Except that Deborah is involved, and that this JKP person could be more than just one person. It's a start.."
I roll my eyes, biting down on my jaw tightly. "A start? Is this like a fucking game for you?!"
His reaction is uncontrolled and taken aback, raising his voice instantly. "A game? Why the bloody fuck would this be a game for me? This is the guy who probably killed my fucking parents -- or at least had something to do with it!"
Biting into my bottom lip, I look away from Harry, feverishly push the car door open and shut it harshly behind me, the loud slam almost echoing in an almost empty parking lot. My eyes grow hard and my face acquires an unfamiliar resemblance to a fury I have never tapped into before as I make my way towards the apartment building. Behind me, I hear Harry leave his car, shouting my name. "Tara!....."
I dig frantically for the keys, vision blurred with angry tears. My fingers finally loop between the hoops and I shove the key into the lock. Harry is quick, coming up behind me as I push the door open. "Baby, please, just--"
"Stop talking!" I shout at him, knowing that none of this could possibly be his fault, but I don't know how else to channel all this frantic, panicked energy. I don't even think as I take an old, cement brick that was left in the corners from previous construction. The small little foyer is dark and barely lit, old stairs next to us leading to the second floor.
"What are you--" Harry goes interrupted as I turn around and go to slam it against the doorknob. Harry instantaneously grabs it from my hands, shouting, "Are you mental?!" He realizes the insensitivity, relaxing and setting the cement brick down. "Not like that. What we are doing is nowhere near as bad, but still quite mad of us to leave evidence that we've been here."
I nod, not feeling the power to force my voice. Harry fishes out his wallet, grabbing a used gift card. My eyebrows furrow as I watch him wedge the thin plastic between the door and the doorway. He slides it down until he gets to the lock, pushing on the door with the knob until it clicks open.
He gives me a glance and puts the card back into his wallet. Not questioning him, I go to push the door open, but Harry roughly squeezes his hands to my hips, shoving me backwards into him, a protective glare on his face as he holds me behind him. His actions stunned me, almost out of anger that I'd dare to go inside so boldly and recklessly.
"Harry--"
"Shh." He gives me a look, shadowed, sharp face warning me to stay behind him. Without my usual remarks and complaints, I stay behind him with furrowed eyebrows. Squinting slightly as he pushes the door open, revealing some light flowing into the small, squared foyer. My smaller hand slips into his, squeezing it tightly and sighing to myself.
My eyes adjust to the warm light, windows covered by thin, maroon curtains making me sick as my eyes follow the mess of cartons of soup, bottles of beer, and clothes. The smell is pungent and repulsive, alcohol and old wet rags. Across his walls are nothing but taped notes with times. I notice immediately.
I let go of Harry's hand, walking towards the wall with yellow sticky notes. Times posted with nothing else. "Do any of these seem familiar to you?" I ask him softly, eyes wandering through at least fifteen sticky notes.
Harry stands beside me, rubbing a hand across his face as he mutters, "Fuck..."
"What?"
"Fuck!" He suddenly shouts, nostrils flaring as he taps one sticky note in particular. "That's the usual time of Nathan's baseball games..." he then points to another, swallowing harshly, "That...is my advanced composition class. 10am every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday." On the note, MWF is initialed in messy scribbles. My heart tightens and I hold my hand to my chest, feverishly fiddling with the golden cross necklace Harry gave me.
Dried throat and lips, I search for more times. Seeing a few I know too well. I gasp in utter disbelief and discomfort. "My m-mom leaves for work at that time everyday," I point to one, then another, "I leave at this time for my seminar class."
My hands go to cover my mouth, unable to look any further as I turn around and squeeze my eyes shut. Only to reopen them, and notice the bright light of the computer screen in front of me. On the desktop screen are a bunch of files, named with odd codes and next to the monitor is a camera. I suddenly remember the camera bills and home depot bills that were supposedly going into our mail everyday.
"Oh God..." I croak, shaking my head and staring at the screen. Harry hears, turning concerned for me. His eyes follow my sight in silence, both of us too terrorized to even speak to each other, better yet form proper sentences.
Harry bravely touches the mouse and whispers so softly. "Maybe..." The light from the screen hits his wary, pale green eyes and his beautifully defined facial structure.
He clicks on a file, and the second I see the thumbnails, the video opening, my heart sinks into my stomach and I find myself dizzy with shock. Harry backs away, having shut it off instantly and turns quickly towards me just as I'm gasping for air, voicing a painfully loud cry. Harry instantly wraps a strong arm around my waist, the other following. My hands push against his chest for a few long seconds, breathing harshly into the fabric of his shirt.
"Tara, listen to me," he whispers frantically, and I shove and shove, but can't seem to get away from it. Even though I don't want to get away from Harry, my hands keep helplessly pushing at him. I can't take the intensity of it all. His hands rub my lower back, insisting that he'll call Erin. That she'll help.
I shake my head again, crying, "I looked that guy in the face..," distraught, into his chest. "The fucking porn I thought he was watching was--" I stop talking, unable to keep focus as I shove at Harry again, but he refuses to let go. Eventually, I stop and become lethargic in his arms.
Harry kisses my left temple, before letting go of me temporarily to find his phone. I try my hardest to look away from the computer. Knowing that the first few seconds were enough for me to know that it was a video of us the night before Harry left for championships. Caught in a very intimate position that was only for us, not some strange, unstable man watching. Ruining all those memories for me in that instant.
His camera goes off as he takes pictures of the wall with the sticky notes. I muster the courage to look at the computer again, going towards it and clicking on different files. I felt like throwing up as I scrolled through thumbnails of videos. Some of me, in Harry's apartment, intimate moments exploited and destroyed. But most were of Harry and I together. My stomach churns as I click past pictures even, of me sitting on Harry, flimsy bra on with a happy grin on my face. I had no idea...
Until I find one of myself in my seminar class.
"Baby..." I manage to choke out. Harry turns his head, phone still held in his hand aimed at the wall of sticky notes. Harry's eyebrows furrow deeply, confusion and realization instantaneous. "It is more than one person..." I whisper. "There is no way...Kennedy is in my seminar class. I would have seen him..."
"Could that be Deborah?" Harry asks, putting away his
"It doesn't make sense because her initials...plus at this angle...no. She sits behind me, not next to me.." I explain quietly, backing away from the computer. Harry slips his hand into mine, leaning forward to the computer in order to close out from the files.
"C'mon. We've got to grab some of your things. For your mum, as well. This bullshit ends right now."
n. I moved to a new state and was so, so, so busy. but I'm back! I understand if you're confused so I'd recommend rereading previous chapters. I appreciate the support. It's amazing to see. Thank you.
- Zeff