"Tears are words that need to be written."
- Paulo Coelho
****
Harry ten years old
It was dark and silent. No matter what I did, the wooden ceiling above me stopped me from escaping. It always did. Screaming got me nowhere and God forbid, neither did begging. He didn't care. No, he didn't care about me. Always didn't.
He had always made that clear. But who would want me?
It was so cramped that I didn't even have room to turn around, let alone have room to bang my fists against the wooden lid. I want to get out of here. Please, I was not guilty this time. It was just an accident. But he didn't care about that either.
It must always be someone's fault. And for him that meant that it had been me.
Breathing was difficult for me and I heard the blood rushing through my ears, it was so quiet. It was quiet every time. But this time it was the worst. I don't know how long I've been in here. Is it hours? Is it only minutes?
His words rang through my head like always and it's always the same two sentences: You are a monster Harry. And you will always be one.
I squinted my eyes and hoped it would stop. That someone would get me out of here. But no one was there. I was all alone in here and that's how it will always be. At least I could save Beckham. He would not stand it in here and go to ruin.
But I was already too often in here. Too many times to even count.
It started like every time. First I find it hard to draw enough air into my lungs so that I am about to suffocate, although there is actually enough air. The box has holes for that.
Then my head starts spinning and I feel dizzy. My fingers start to tingle just like my legs. From then on there is no way back.
Anne had explained to me that this is called a panic attack. Is that what I have? A panic attack? Why does something want to attack me? I didn't do anything...did he have something to do with it?
I want to get out of here. With my feet I tried to kick the lid and with my hands I hit the sides of the box. But I was too weak. He was right.
I took another swing, as best I could in this narrow space, and suddenly there was a loud bang.
"Harry?"
Father?
"Harry? What was that noise?" It was a female voice, muffled by a door or something. What the hell is going on here?
Suddenly someone shook me violently, I opened my eyes abruptly and sat upright in bed, it was hard to catch my breath. Fuck, where am I? It was dark, so I could only make out the outline of someone.
Ashely?
"Harry what's wrong?" she asked confused, yet very softly as if she thought I was fragile. But I'm not. If there's one thing I hate, it's pity. I don't need pity from anyone. And I'm definitely not fragile. That side of me hasn't existed for years. And it never will be again.
Ashely sat in the middle of the bed in a kneeling position. I could feel myself sweating and my body felt like it was on fire. When suddenly a small light went on, I irritably squinted my eyes because I was only used to the dark. Now I recognized her correctly. She wore an oversized tshirt and her hair she had fixed smoothly backwards in a braid, some strands hung loosely in her face. She looked tired.
Then my eyes fell on the floor next to me and I recognized a broken bedside lamp. Had that been me? "Did you have a nightmare?" she wanted to know, and I screwed up my face. "Don't know what business it would be of yours, but no." She nodded slowly, but continued to sit looking at me to study my appearance. Doesn't she believe me?
"Anything else?" I snorted, trying to get rid of her now. "Nope, the noise had startled me." she explained, but she continued to sit. Why? Doesn't she get it? I don't want her here. However, she did not say that the noise woke her up. So was she still awake? "Do you need anything?" she then asked with her head tilted. And what's the point of this now? We've only fucked twice. Why so clingy?
"We said one more time and then never again. So what are you still doing here? Do you want to fuck again or to cuddle now after all? I told you I don't do that." I hissed as I pierced her with my gaze. "If you don't plan on distracting me, then you can leave now."
"You really are such a giant son of a bitch and a fucking prick!" she hissed back before getting up and storming out of the room in a huff.
"Yeah, get the hell out of here!" I called after her annoyed but she didn't even hear that anymore, because she slammed the door loudly when she entered the hallway. I really don't understand her. I let myself fall back onto the bed with a groan and then immediately rolled onto my side, because I can't lie on my back after these nightmares.
When I looked at the clock next to my bed, I saw that it was 4 a.m. and so I tried to go back to sleep. But every time I closed my eyes, I felt the tightness of the box again. A shiver ran through my body and I turned restlessly back and forth on the bed. I tore my eyes open again and got up to open the window. As the fresh air brushed my face I took a deep breath.
Niall must still have alcohol around here somewhere. If I can find that then maybe I can go back to sleep. Drinking myself almost unconscious has only helped a few times so far, but maybe I'll get lucky and it'll work tonight. So I went into the kitchen, over to the full bar, because even if he hardly has any food here he always has enough alcohol.
While rummaging through the shelves, I then luckily found what I was looking for. I grabbed a vodka bottle and waived a glass as I went back to my room. Already on the way there I turned off the lid and put the bottle to my mouth. My throat was dry as dust and when the first drop of vodka hit my throat, it didn't get any better.
But I didn't give a shit. I sat down on the bed, my feet still on the floor and put the bottle to my lips to drink again. This time, however, I drank several sips at once. When I had already drunk half of the bottle, the alcohol finally began to have an effect.
I hate how I'm already almost immune to the alcohol and have to drink twice as much to finally almost pass out. I don't want to die from alcohol poisoning either, but being close to it doesn't kill me. I want to numb my body.
When I had drunk the whole bottle at some point, I let myself fall backwards on the bed again. My eyes became heavy and I felt dizzy so that I could hardly think clearly. My eyes closed as if by themselves until I opened them again. No idea when but at some point I probably fell asleep, because when I came to my senses again, the sun was shining in my window.
I had a severe headache and my hangover was clearly making itself felt. Fuck, what time is it? When I managed to keep my eyes open I peeked over to my nightstand where the alarm clock was. It lit up red and in big numbers it said 3pm. Have I slept that long? Shit.
When I tried to get up, my body felt heavy and my muscles limp. I almost tripped over the vodka bottle lying on the floor, but then just managed to catch myself and hold on to the door frame at the end of the room. What a mess. Wow, my head was spinning and the urge to vomit overcame me but then disappeared again.
I decided to go to the kitchen to drink some water and take some of Niall's pills to relieve the headache. Every step hurt, but I had not even drunk so much that I fainted. Deep in my thoughts I did not even notice how someone was already sitting in the kitchen as I entered it.
Ashley was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, fully dressed and when she heard me coming she turned around. She eyed me with a critical look. "You look like shit." she then remarked with arched eyebrows and I just walked past her and opened the refrigerator. "No, seriously. What did you do?" she then wanted to know and I groaned in annoyance.
"What do you care?" I fired back at her as I closed the door of the fridge with a bang and opened the lid of the water bottle. Her eyes narrowed and scanned my face. "Have you been drinking?" she then asked. "Just because we fucked twice doesn't mean I'm going to tell you what I do all the time," I said low. I found the pills Niall kept in the drawer in the kitchen and popped several, just to be on the safe side and since I had no idea which one was for what.
"Don't act like I'm some clingy bitch you pushed off the edge of the bed now," she said in a calm tone that just made the whole thing more provocative and me more aggressive. "We both decided to do this, but don't worry it definitely won't happen again."
"Good!" I hissed and Ashley averted her eyes from me. Of course, she didn't miss the opportunity to roll her eyes at me as she did so. I don't know how it's possible for one woman to make my blood boil like that but she seems to always manage it. She really is a little devil.
I grabbed something to eat and paid no attention to Ashely. After that I went for a hot and long shower. Just as I entered my room again, dressed only in a towel, there was a knock on the door. "Yes?" I called and the door opened. Ashley's eyes stroked as if spellbound over my free upper body.
"Why don't you tell me you're not fucking dressed?" she then said as she turned away. For the first time today, I had to smirk. "Nothing you haven't seen before," I replied simply, and Ashely furrowed her brow. "And nothing I want to see again!" she countered, a little too quickly. To tease her a little more I dropped my towel and when she heard the sound of it she flinched slightly.
"Harry!" she warned slowly, not looking in my direction. "Put the towel back on or better yet get dressed right now because we have work to do." I chuckled in amusement, not caring in the least about her request. "And what if I don't?" I challenged her. "I have knifes now and I don't hesitate to use them!" she snapped back angrily.
"Now this whole thing is getting interesting," I replied with a sly grin, and a frustrated squeak left her throat. "Just come into the damn living room so we can continue planning," she said seriously. Just as I was about to retort something she added, "dressed of course!" Then she stormed out of the room, leaving me alone.
After getting dressed, I entered the large living room where Ashely was already sitting on one of the sofas. On the table she had distributed several pieces of paper with drawings and some writings. "What is all this?" I asked as I came up behind her. She flinched slightly because I had probably surprised her, then cleared her throat and said,"That's what it looks like.
I hate how she always skirts around my questions or makes these sarcastic remarks. "And why did you think it would be fun to have a drawing lesson here?" I replied as I flopped down on the couch across from her. "I didn't do these drawings for fun, dumbass. It's because the guy you killed had a burn mark on his arm."
I raised my eyebrows in puzzlement, because that really surprised me a lot. I hadn't noticed it at all....
"And why didn't you say that yesterday?" I snapped at her instead. After all, she's known this for almost 24 hours. "Because I had other fucking problems then." she replied gritting her teeth with her arms crossed. "Fuck, we have hundreds of problems right now, yet the guy who's chasing us is at the top of our list," I yelled back, waving my hand dismissively.
"You even occupy the first place on my list," she said with a sardonic smile and I threw a pillow at her. She caught it in the air and threw it right back. Since my reflexes were a bit sloppy due to my strong hangover, it hit me directly at the head and fell to the ground. Ashely started giggling and I let hot air hiss out between my teeth.
"Now just show me the fucking drawing before I throw something else back that isn't a pillow," I threatened with a dark gleam in my voice. Ashely leaned forward and slid a drawing across to me. As she did so, she sank her perfect teeth into her bottom lip and it was immediately clear to me why. She was sore again. And this time even more than yesterday.
"Sore, princess?" I cocky raised an eyebrow and my lips plastered a wry grin as I accepted the drawing. "Hangover, dickhead?" she countered sardonically. Still grinning, I leaned back and then glanced at the drawing she had made. "What the hell is that?" I then asked, confused. I turned the sheet around, but even now the blob of color made no sense to me.
"I wish I knew." muttered Ashely as she leaned back as well. "But you made the drawing, so you must know what it is, too?" I wondered. That's how it works, isn't it? But Ashely shook her head. "Nope, no clue." Is she kidding me? "Look, I have a photographic memory. That means I draw what I see, get it?" she explained. "Still doesn't mean I know what it is."
With her hand she made a motion to the drawings and I nodded my head slightly. "Uh-huh, good to know." I muttered as I let my eyes roam over the black and white drawing again. "Looks a bit like a bird." I then noticed and she hummed. "Hmm, I thought so too. But must be a really ugly one then." When I noticed how I smiled slightly at that, I pulled myself together again.
"Can't you check that CIA database?" I wanted to know as I remembered that tattoos and indentations on the skin can be tracked. "Um, let's put it this way...I don't have contact with anyone to ask for that right now." she replied hesitantly. "Is that why you didn't already try it yesterday?" I inquired as I leaned forward and propped up on my knees. She nodded and that was probably the only confirmation I'll get from her.
So that means the help of the CIA is gone and we are on our own. Although not completely. After all, I still have an ace up my sleeve. Or rather four. "I'm going to call someone," I announced as I got up and left the room without waiting for her answer. I just entered a room and pulled the phone out of my pocket to call Louis. I had already locked the USBs away when we arrived so that Ashely wouldn't get any stupid ideas.
It rang a few times and then he took the call. "Yes?" he asked in surprise. "Lou, it's me." I replied gritting my teeth because I can't gauge how he will react. I didn't get in touch with him for days and before I left we had a fight about the USBs and Nick. He said it was stupid of me to leave, but of course I left anyway. Now I know where that led me....
"Harry?" His voice sounded less monotone than usual, almost gentle. "Yes." I replied to him curtly. Suddenly Louis exhaled deeply, as if he was relaxing now. "I thought you'd never call." he then muttered, and I scrunched my eyebrows together. Had he been waiting for me to call?
"H, come on I know you. Don't you think I know that the first move has to come from you and that pushing doesn't help?" he sneered with a chuckle. I had forgotten how well the guys actually know me. "Yeah, I needed some time," I then muttered. "There's quite a bit going on here and my mind isn't really on me. That's why I'm calling."
"What's going on? How can we help?" he asked immediately without hesitation. "First of all, how are the deliveries going? Do you guys have everything under control?" I inquired about our business. "Oh yeah, don't worry about that. The guys and I are handling it." he replied and I nodded, even though he didn't see this. At the same time, I walked up and down the room a bit.
"Okay, so the son of a bitch who shot Zayn in the stomach had a burn mark on his arm and we're trying to figure out what it is," I told him and Louis hummed in registration. "Send us a picture over and we'll take care of it." he then offered and that's exactly what I was hoping for. "Will do. But the drawing really sucks. Looks like a blob or something. Bit like a bird."
"We'll look at that then." he said and this time I was the one who hummed in registration. "Anything else?" asked Louis expectantly. "Nah." I replied shrugging my shoulders and just as I was about to hang up, I paused. "Um, Louis?" I scratched my head nervously, waiting to see if he was still there. "Yes?" he asked hesitantly. "You were right, by the way." I then said slowly.
I immediately regretted it and squinted my eyes in anticipation. "About what?" he wondered uncomprehendingly. "About Nick..." I muttered, and I heard Louis suck in a sharp breath. "Okay." he then said a bit confused and I just hung up, throwing the phone on the table in response. I had never admitted that what I had done was stupid or a mistake.
Fuck, what the hell is wrong with me right now? Why am I acting so strangely? I re-entered the living room, still confused but my headache at least a little better. "So?" asked Ashely expectantly when she noticed me. "I'll send them a picture and they'll take care of it," I announced as I flopped back down on the sofa. She nodded and bit her lower lip thoughtfully.
"Don't do that." I growled and she looked up at me in confusion. "What?" Confused, she eyed me. "Stop biting your lips." I said simply and her confused look formed into a mischievous one. "Why? Does it bother you?" she asked, tilting her head. The smile on her lips showed how she knew exactly that it bothered me.
"No!" I replied plainly. But it bothered me. Even quite strongly. Because the desire to kiss her and fuck her here and now on the couch came over me when she drew attention to her full pink lips. "Then I don't understand your problem." she replied simply and I left the room growling at that, with one of her drawings to send a photo to the guys.
After I did that I came back and Ashely was sitting in the exact same position as before. Does she not want to leave there or what? "Ashely come into the kitchen for a minute." I called out to test her. She craned her neck and looked over at me. "Why?" she wanted to know skeptically. "Just come here, I want to show you something." I replied, but she remained seated. "I'm sure I can see it from here too." she then exclaimed and with that she confirmed my assumption.
"Are you having trouble standing up?" I then asked with a grin as I propped myself up by the kitchen counter. "No, why would I?" she downplayed it, but I knew better. After all, I've never seen her change her position from the kitchen to the living room, and besides, she's been sitting there for several hours. "Sure, little devil," I chuckled, amused.
"Fuck you, Harry." she shouted while showing me her middle finger. "You already have, baby. Twice, actually." I replied with a smug smile and she hissed annoyed. "Now come here and we'll plan some more." I stopped in the open kitchen, however, and crossed my arms in front of my chest. "You come here," I challenged her. She dropped her clenched fists on the sofa in frustration and cursed softly to herself.
Then suddenly she made an effort to stand up. Her jaw tightened as she bit down hard on her teeth to keep her face from contorting in pain. Slowly and carefully she put one step in front of the other, while she fixed me deadly with her blue eyes. I was completely entertained by this scenario in front of me and with a nasty grin I watched as she strenuously came over to me, across the room.
"There she finally is!" I teased as she arrived in front of me, eyeing me furiously. "Shut up or I'll stuff my foot up your ass." she threatened as she sat down on the stool, wincing almost unnoticed. But still, of course, it caught my eye. "I'd like to see that." I didn't mind her threat, on the contrary it amused me. After another angry look, she sighed. "So I was thinking that we first find out who this guy is and then figure out how to get the codes to the USBs he still has."
"Good, and we kill him, right? Because there's no way he should live after what he's already done," I replied seriously. "It depends on who he is," she replied, and inwardly I rolled my eyes. "Of course," I said with a sarcastic smile. "Spitfire CIA agent." I whispered masked by a fake cough. Ashley's eyes narrowed abruptly and she audibly gritted her teeth.
"I'm not a fucking buffer just because I'm making sure we're doing the right thing!" she fired back, annoyed. "That's what makes a buffer," I commented calmly. "Besides, we're doing the right thing when we take out a psychopath by killing him and his friends." Ashley shook her head strained.
"The right thing to do is relative," she growled. "I want to get rid of him too, but we don't know anything about him."
I groaned in annoyance. "We know enough to kill him!" I countered with my arms crossed. "He wants to kill us, so he's definitely not a good person, and I'm sure he's done other things that were much worse. What if we help humanity when we kill him, huh?"
"And what if we don't?" she cried. I started laughing, a deep and dangerous laugh. "You don't believe that yourself." She continued to stare at me angrily. "I don't care what you do, but I will definitely kill him." I announced. "Where did the change in opinion come from all of a sudden? Before we had the weapons, you wanted to kill him too, didn't you?" I asked irritated.
"Fuck, I want to kill him too okay?" she yelled back at me, her shoulders dropping powerlessly. Now I didn't understand anything anymore. "Then why all this fuss?" I shouted with a wave of my hand. "Because maybe I haven't come to terms with the fact that it's perfectly normal to just kill someone." she fired back with a raised voice. Completely perplexed, I stared at her. So that was what she was all about? She's afraid of her feelings?
"I can't take it so lightly. Otherwise, I'll lose what's left of my humanity." she then said a bit calmer. "And then-"
"Then you'll become someone like me," I finished her sentence. She nodded slightly and then looked at the kitchen counter.
"At the CIA, you're supposed to be able to separate your feelings from the right decisions by drawing a clear line, but...with me, that line is gradually blurring." she explained slowly, her eyes gleaming in the light, and suddenly it became dead silent.
I had no idea what to say in response. How could I? Never before had I had such a conversation with someone from the CIA. For me, killing was never a question of doing the right thing. I just always did it. But that it's different with her also makes sense. As a CIA agent, you learn to make the right decisions and always do what makes the most sense for everyone. In Ashely's unit, killing is also only used in extreme emergencies.
But I noticed back then, when we were searching the CIA database, that Ashely had the highest kill rate out of her entire unit. Why was that? "How many have you killed?" I asked, and she looked deep into my eyes. Then she took a deep breath and said, "I don't know." I nodded and hesitated slightly. But then I said it after all. "Neither do I."
The corners of Ashely's mouth went up slightly and her throat left a soft and powerless giggle. "Cheers to us!" she muttered sarcastically. "Cheers to us." I replied as well, and silence enveloped us again. I don't know why but it became civil between us.
Suddenly I felt how hungry I had actually become. "Shall we have something to eat?" I then suggested. "After all, we can't plan anything else as long as we have no idea who we're dealing with."
She nodded, but still looked blankly at the floor. Then she did clear her throat, "Sounds good." I nodded and turned to look in the cupboards for something we could prepare. "Niall really has almost nothing to eat here," I muttered as I searched. "We'll just mix several things together, it'll be fine." she said, her voice almost sounding normal again. Less broken.
"Yesterday's pasta was good, wasn't it?" she added. I peeked out from behind an open cabinet and scratched my head. "Really? Because I can't cook at all," I said, and Ashely chuckled softly. "Me neither."
"Really the best ingredients for a good meal." I joked as I then reached for a box of pasta. "We'll survive." she defended our cooking skills. Ashely now stood up carefully and reached for a pot for the noodles.
My mood had improved and I even had to smile slightly without really noticing it. I'm just glad that she didn't bring up the nightmare anymore and that we're now eating something without arguing, which is a nice change.
But no matter how peaceful it is between us right now, I already know that I will destroy it again. I can't leave things intact.
****
Will it remain so peaceful?
Nah....probably not.
But we learned a bit about his trauma and thus why he is claustrophobic.
And hey, the next chapter is going to be from a different point of view. Yayy.