3 weeks later.
.Harry.
The sky crackled with thunder and the heavy raindrops were pouring down on the pool surface and rattling against the window frames of my bedroom. Unwrapping the fluffy black towel around my waist, I moved from the window view to my closet, looking for a pair of clean boxers, some black socks and a thick jumper. I picked one of my favorite scented candles lightning it to help me relax from the tiring day at the recording studio and my very intense 2-hour training session.
My fingers were raking through my wet hair, when the sound of a vibration startled me. I fumbled through the pockets of my previously worn pants, but the sound was gone and I failed to answer it.
It was Jeff, or Glenne, or probably both of them.
I wasn't really planning on returning the call, not in the mood for going out, which was probably the intention of it. I pulled head and arms through the thick wooly sweater, already feeling better. I wanted nothing but relax my muscles and get some decent sleep, the recent nights were soon taking a toll on me.
I saw the light up of the screen when his text messages arrived. I was quietly flinching as I laid eyes on it, but instead of typing in an instant refusal, I stooped briefly to drop the phone back on the small white ottoman by my bed.
Flopping down on the messy bed and causing the bedsprings to mold along with my body, I stared up at the ceiling, the tender aches of my knuckles and arms were still accompanying me after boxing.
A long sigh left my body and I felt nothing but peace in the room. I liked it.
After a couple of minutes feeling my eyelids close and open like an exhaustion battling pattern, a loud noise was breaking through the house tranquility, cutting through the sounds of the storm outside, and confusion raced through my system.
Just by the front door, a weird sound of metal against metal and footsteps, fucking footsteps inside the house.
My ears were alert like the devil was behind me. The thought that someone was in here left a sickening lurch in my stomach that I could not afford to acknowledge. My hands delved for the remote hidden between my unmade covers, fingers clicking and trying to reach for the security channel, fearing that I was going to see whatever the hell was happening downstairs.
Or maybe it was the rain making those weird noises?
Please be the rain. Please. Please.
I found the channel and stared at the screen, my eyes wildly looking at every corner of the camera frames; on every image, at the entrance, on the hall, but nothing, there was no one in the house but me.
I was probably panicking for nothing, or maybe I wanted to go out so badly, I was just creating random thoughts to get out of this and agreeing to whatever Jeff had to offer me. I tiptoed to the bedroom door, and looked downstairs, but there was no use, there was nothing down there.
Just turn on all the lights.
And I did just that, flicking the one on the corridor, the lights on the living room and kitchen.
Nothing.
Maybe it was the neighbor being loud. I was shaking my head to myself and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge door and just looking around. I wasn't hungry, nor thirsty, I was just bored. I filled the kettle with water and turned the flame into a low burn, before making my way to the sofa.
My eyes were then catching on a single piece of red paper lying on the coffee table right in front of me.
I know this paper, it's not the first time I've seen it.
I felt genuinely scared.
It's been a couple of weeks of someone sticking this bloody envelope through the gate of my house, scaring the hell out of me when I see those damn messages that just don't make any sense.
Poems, writings about stuff I don't truly understand, personal things about me.
I thought at first that it was just fan mail, but right now, I've come to the fact that this is no ordinary mailing. This was somebody trying to give me a message of some sort.
My index finger was breaking through a small fissure of paper glued together, slowly taking whatever was hidden inside, but there was no folded handwritten letter, instead, a single polaroid fell into my lap.
After trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this wasn't good news, I took it in my fingers and all I could see was a really old internet picture of me, my eyes were scratched out with pen markings and there was a hole placed in my heart. On the bottom part of the print, there was a tiny message with yesterday's date.
I could feel a chill breaking through my skin.
You're only mine.
I quickly stuffed it back into the red envelope, and I threw the damn thing away in the kitchen trashcan, my hand slowly raking through my hair, thinking about what to do with this.
It was obviously the same creeper from the other night.
Should I be scared? Was this person dangerous?
Maybe not, I was living on my own in here but I had security at my reach, I couldn't possibly be in danger, at least nothing that an all-time bodyguard could not mend. I thought about calling the police, but the rest of the letters were thrown away and I was thinking that maybe this could all blow out of proportion. I certainly didn't need the media attention on this.
The sudden sound of the kettle wheezing vapor into thin air startled my thoughts, making me jump in sudden fright.
Jesus, I need to calm the fuck down.
Everything was fine, there were just letters, or probably a person trying to reach out for me and that was it, maybe the solution to all of this was answering back.
Should I do it?
My hands were shaking a little and I wiped them against my boxers, taking a mug out of the cupboard and filling it with hot water and a small infusion bag.
No sugar.
Or maybe I should add some sugar to steady myself.
I was pretty shaken up and I scrolled down my phone to do the only thing sane people do when they're genuinely scared.
I called mum.
The dial tone making me think if I should tell her or not, I'd probably just make her worry a lot about me.
"I was just talking about you, right this minute." Just hearing her voice made my day, I didn't care about being so attached to her, I did missed her all the damn time. "It's like I called you with my mind."
"Hi mum, I was missing you."
"We're missing you too, my baby." She rambled on about her reunion with her best friends and how her dessert was a popular one, she was asking me questions about my day, or how were my latest song writing sessions, and I just couldn't do it, couldn't tell her what was bothering me.
I did not want her to worry.
I'd rather call for more security, which was the only reasonable solution at the moment.
"Darling, is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine mum."
"Oh dear, then why are you ringing? Just to say hello?"
"Yeah, and to tell you that I love you." My throat was constricting my words, I wanted to cry, but I couldn't show her that, she was going to be asking me lots of questions. "I'm probably taking a few days off to go see you, I want to be home."
"That'd be lovely, Harry."
The sound of the doorbell interrupted our conversation.
"Hold on a second mum, someone's at the door, don't hang up." I placed the phone down, the call still on, and clicked the security camera on the door but there was only darkness and rain outside. I stared at the frame for a few seconds, but there was nothing there. I felt paranoid and frightened, this night was so not going as planned.
Fucking get a grip now.
I walked back to the kitchen island, deciding that I should just move upstairs with my phone, probably lock the door as well, as I was feeling completely delusional. The red envelope was not helping with my insane thoughts, what if this was someone dangerous, and what was that thing doing on the coffee table like my regular mail? The regular mail that was hand-picked and filtered so that stuff like this could not happen.
A sharp sound broke into my thoughts, like something dropping to the floor.
Ok that's it, I'm hanging up on my mother and I'm calling the cops.
I was about to grab my phone, laying there with the line still waiting on the other side, when I found myself staring at a stranger set of eyes, looking right back at me from across the room.
My heart failed at the alarming sight, my hand bumping against the hot tea, the burning water drenching my socks and the broken china making its way around me in tiny pieces. My instinct asked me to run fast, but the person was pointing something at me, the hand quite steady, and a sneer etched on the rain soaked skin.
A gun.
It was a fucking gun.
Carefully I splayed the fingers on my right hand, a simple motion to show that I'm wasn't up to anything, lifting them up.
"Do I know you?"
The person was quiet.
"Can we please be rational about this?" I was spelling each word slowly, trying to use my time to gain some reason with this person. "Just tell me what you want..."
There is no sound, not a single word, the gun was set up straight at me and I was feeling like there's no turning back. I'm silently praying that this is nothing but a terrible nightmare and that I'm going to wake up soon.
"Did you get my letters?"
Oh fuck.
Oh God, no.
"I told you not to hang up on me, but you wouldn't listen."
The leather-gloved hand didn't wait for an answer, pulling the trigger with the simple use of a finger, the sound deafening.
It all happened in quick motion, vomit was rising in my throat as the bullet tore through my skin, the sulfuric smell invading my nose and senses, making me feel the full impact and the sudden vertigo. I gagged with soundless noises as blood blossomed through my own jumper, my shaking fingers touching the wooly soaking fabric, before falling to the floor.
This feels surreal; while I'm withering in pain on the hard ground, I let out a whimper and then a scream, hopefully someone will hear me.
My arms don't seem to be working or I would be fighting for my life.
Tears are streaming down my face.
I know what's going to happen, I'm not stupid.
I try and reach for something, anything, but my arms won't move.
Why won't they move?
I'm so confused.
I can't feel anything and I'm feeling more scared than I've ever been in my life.
"Harry..." I hear a whisper near me, my skin crawling and shivering from the awful sensation, from that voice, the voice that is whispering nonsense, but I just can't listen to it. My ears no longer work. I can barely keep my eyes open, they are so fucking heavy. "Tell me how it is, angel, how does it feel to be finally home."
I feel a sob leaving my body, a million thoughts running through my mind, and I focus on my mum listening to this, I think of her with all my soul.
I tell her I love her, on my mind, right before I close my eyes.