Murder Mystery - H.S

43

TW: Mention of self Harm and death

Hello! This topic might be hard for some but I just want you to know that you are not alone... reach out for help if needed because you're so important
Suicide prevention line - 988

Juliet.

My brows furrowed even further; I don't even believe I understood her. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I ask out of the blue, a little too harshly.

Her eyes narrow as she scans the space. "Harry, he got into an accident; he was shot. I received a couple of calls." I blinked once more as she asked with uncertainty in her eyes.

God, she was beautiful. Why, if she existed, would Harry be with someone like me? She unzips her jacket, revealing the sweater underneath.

"But why are you here?" I asked again, and Zayn stepped away from me. I wiped away my tears as I shoved my unsteady feet against the ground.

I think I was angry. Why was she here?

"I'm worried." I met Louis stare as he leaned on the wall, looking at Mariana while keeping his hands in his pockets. His stare was so powerful, so mysterious like he knew something about her nobody did. Louis just stared with pure disgust.

Mariana pauses and turns to face Abby and Louis. "I know I really shouldn't be here, but I am worried, okay? Harry is-- was a special person to me."

I scoff without even realizing it. My anger rose over and over again. "Is there a problem?" she says, her attention turning towards her. I smiled, tilting my head slightly.

Clenching my teeth and leaning back in my seat, I murmured, "No problem at all. I just don't see why you suddenly care about him."

Mariana's eyes narrow down, and she laughs, "I've always cared about him." She defends herself with a tone that says she's proud to say that.

"If you suddenly cared so much about him, why did you stay away all this time?"

She becomes silent. The idea of her hurting Harry made me angry, even though I knew it wasn't my place to speak harshly to her when it wasn't about me.

It irked me. I despise the way it makes me feel to remember a time when Harry was so hurt. Harry was forced to raise his children alone. I know most of it wasn't her fault; I know she suffered as well and encountered things.

I am aware that what happened to her was beyond her control and that many women worldwide experience similar things. I don't blame her for acting the way she did because, regrettably, it was something that happened to her.

She lost her first child and then unexpectedly gave birth to twins at a time when she had no idea how to care for herself or manage her emotions.

" Sit." She whips her head in Zayn's direction and smiles as he points to the empty chairs. While seated, I look away, my mind turning towards Harry.

Remembering how he took his last breath. Which causes me to abruptly rise. Feeling fidgety all over again—desperate.

My heart started racing, pounding against my chest like a wild drumbeat. My palms grew sweaty, and a knot formed in my stomach. The sound of the clock ticking felt like a bomb. I jumped at the least amount of noise because everything seemed louder.

The hospital is far too vacant; I've never seen anything like it, and I'm left wondering why. My mind was overwhelmed with concerns and what-ifs, threatening to engulf me in a tornado of dread. When I thought of Harry, I felt imprisoned, like a bird with its wings cut, unable to escape the hold of my worries.