18 | death

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I've always thought I would know when I was about to die. The way they write about it in books and show it in movies. I thought I'd have some closure in it all; accept the fact that I was about to die and welcome it. Somewhat.

This was completely different.

"Do you know where you are?" A voice called from the darkness, crisp and clear and oddly familiar. Coming from no distinct direction, it was as if it bounced off the walls for a millennia before hitting my ears all at once.

"No." I croaked, my throat sore from screaming.

"You're in hell, honey. I already killed your sweet little Harry." The voice felt closer, a soft breath fanning across my face with the harsh words. "And, I'm going to torture you until you wish you were dead, too."

---

My own screams awake me from my sleep, my skin clammy and drenched in a thin layer of sweat.

Suddenly a light switches on and soft hands are caressing my cheeks. "Shh, baby, it's okay. It was only a dream."

My eyes met his and my body relaxes into the mattress at his touch. "Harry." I pull him to me, needing to know he was really there. My soft sobs shake through me as I cry into his shoulder.

He holds me close and hums soft reassurances into my ear. "It's okay, baby, it's okay."

After dinner and after Harry left, I'd scurried up to my room only to find him sprawled across my bed, waiting. Five minutes later we had disappeared through my window and into the night, only to find ourselves in a tangle of limbs, soft whispers and burning hearts under the covers in his room.

But, now those hopeful, easy conversations and sleepy smiles had turned into terror.

I knew that it was too good to be true that the murders had stopped in our town. I knew that eventually I would turn on the news to find another murder, but what scared me was the sudden realization that I very easily could be next--or my dad, or Layla or even Harry.

Clearly, the new edition to the long list of murders in this town had spooked me to the point of nightmares. And, I was extremely grateful to have Harry next to me when I woke up from this one.

When my crying finally quiets down, I stay wrapped against Harry's side. He runs his fingers up and down my arm in a comforting circuit.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He says softly, as if he thinks I may be asleep again and doesn't want to wake me.

"No." I reply, closing my eyes and inhaling his blissful scent. "It was just a stupid dream."

He kisses the top of my head, humming softly--a tune I don't recognize--as I drift to sleep.

----

"About time you got here." Hannah says, throwing my work apron at me as she wipes down the front counter with her other hand. She seems mad.

"What crawled up your ass?" I ask, my tone only half serious as I tie my apron on and walk around the counter.

"Oh, just a back stabbing bitch who steals other people's boyfriends." She sneers, scrubbing a spot on the counter with so much force, for a moment I think she may crack the stone surface.

I raise my eyebrows. "Okay, spill."

She stopps scrummbing to glance up at me. "Don't even think for one second that you can play dumb. I saw you."

And then it hits me. She's talking about me. And Harry.

She shakes her head. "I thought you were my friend. How could you do this to me? He's mine!"

"Seriously?" I can't help the small laugh that escapes my lips. "So I'm a bitch that 'steals' boyfriends? I know you like him but he was never yours, Hannah. I don't believe in calling dibbs. It's childish. If he wanted to date you, he would."

She shakes her head again. "I'm in love with him."

"Since when? Since your little relationship in high school, which by the way, Harry claims never happened." I knew I was being mean, at least a little bit. She had a right to be mad at me, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to let her talk me into breaking up with him or something ridiculous like that.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Hannah asks, throwing her towel into the dirty towels bucket a few feet away, causing the murky water inside to splash up and over the rim.

"Girls, what's going on?" Mike asks, stepping through the door that leads to the kitchen.

"Nothing." I sigh, stepping past both of them to clock in on the register. We finally got a new system after the other one konked out. Now everything is electronic on the register, even clocking in.

"Hannah, you and I will be on tables, Mason will do register. I can't have you fighting in front of my dad's customers." He says, before walking around the counter.

Once he's out of earshot, Hannah turns back to me. "You know, there's a lot to Harry that you'll never understand." She smiles, a bitter, sinister grin. "Just ask him what's so important that he has to keep it locked up in his attic."

My thoughts flash to the first night I stayed with Harry. The odd sounds. The padlocked door at the end of the hall.

"You're just jealous, Hannah." I say, but somewhere inside me I know she could be right.

"Suit yourself." Hannah says before walking away.

I need to know what's behind that door.

*-*-*-*

Ok I know this is short and it's shit and I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. I'll try to update like twice this week or something while I'm off for Thanksgiving break.

I love you guys!

-Lena xx

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