I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie

ISABELLA

The house was packed with people. It was an exact replica of the many house parties I had frequent back home. The average sized living room was dimly lit. Groups of people were scattered across. Some standing and others sitting. There was a thin layer of beer bottles and red cups on the floor. It was hard to believe that I wasn't actually at a high school party, but at a grown man's home. 

I followed close behind Harry. His grip still tight around my wrist. We squeezed and pushed through the mess of bodies. Drunk curses being slurred our way. 

A thin layer of smoke drifted through the cramped hallway. As we walked through, my vision grew hazy. I use my free hand to hold on to Harry's shirt, not wanting to lose him in this mess. I was beginning to question why I thought it'd be a good idea to do this. I was never one for these types of parties. Sweaty bodies and ear piercing techno beats was not my preferred cup of tea. Yet, here I was - with Harry - at a home that belonged to some guy Harry clearly didn't like. 

Some days I wondered if I thought before I acted. Clearly, that was not the case. 

"This way." Harry pulls me with him. He seems to know his way around the house, even though he claims to not have been here before. He pushes pass a couple who managed to remain in their heated lip lock. "For fucks sake," Harry mumbles under his breath. His agitation radiating off of his heated body. 

We finally manage to find a break in the crowd and stumble into the kitchen. It isn't as packed in here as the other rooms, but still full of drunk partiers. Harry reaches for two unopened bottles of coolers, passing me one. I look at the label, smiling to myself. Even when he was annoyed with me, he still made an effort to make me happy. Twisting the cap free, I take a sip of the cool lime flavored drink. My favourite. The liquid is cooling against my throat. The slight bitter aftertaste lingering on my tongue. "Thank you." 

"Mhm." He manages to reply to me before he too is drinking from his bottle. 

We stand there awkwardly in the kitchen. An assortment of party guests walk in and out, some stumbling, while others managed to hold themselves up with a bit of dignity. Harry doesn't say anything to me and I do not say anything to him. The silence between us is deafening. The uneasy tension thickening as time goes on. 

"Please talk to me," I finally break. I reach out for his arm. He retracts it back. An action that breaks my heart. 

"Not right now, Isabella." 

"I don't like this."

"I'm sure you don't." He takes another long sip from his glass. His eyes are focused on the people in front of us. His vision not faltering once. My silent pleas going unnoticed. 

"You made it!" The tension is broken between us by Mason's sudden appearance. He walks over to us, a large grin plastered on his lips. "I didn't think you'd show." He laughs at himself. His eyes are glazed over. An indication that he had already started drinking. 

"No, no. Of course we'd show." I laugh lightly, hoping the tension would ease off slightly. 

"I'm glad you came." He nods at both of us. 

However, Harry continues to remain silent. His gaze hardens towards Mason. His shoulders tensed and his forehead furrowed. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. What he was thinking right now. It was easy to guess how he was feeling. His heart written on his sleeve. Mason took notice of this. His feet shifting. His hands being pushed into his pockets. 

"Alright, well - the guys wanted to see you, Haz." 

I bite my lip at the mention of the nickname. The nickname that walked hand in hand with Harry's past. A nickname that ruined his heart- tore him inside. I prayed to whoever could hear me that he wouldn't blow up. That Harry would keep his cool and let it slide. 

"Right." Harry takes a swig from his drink, ignoring the old nickname. Mason motions back towards the way we came in. Harry's long legs take heavy steps ahead, following Mason further out of the kitchen. He doesn't take me with him, leaving me alone in this unknown house. 

Great... 

I nervously scratch my arm. My eyes scanning the room for anyone that was sober. Anyone that would be of decent company. There didn't seem to be anyone in the kitchen, so I make my way out and back towards the living room. 

If it was even remotely possible, it seemed as if the guest list had doubled in size. It was increasingly more cramped. The smell of marijuana and cigarette smoke drifted throughout the tight confines. I could feel my throat close, my breathing becoming restricted. My asthma taking a major hit. I had to get out of there. 

The front door was too far away. A back door seemingly non existent. Panic began to seep into my bones. My heart beating faster in my chest. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. 

I pushed past the people. Dirty looks were shot my way. "Watch it bitch," a drunken girl slurs at me. Her dark eye makeup was smudged around her eyes. Her skirt too short to even be considered remotely modest. 

"S-so-sorry." My words stutter out of me. Short gasps of breath is all that I can take.

To my left are a set of stairs. With a final push, I am able to break through the crowd. Two steps at a time, I rush my way up the stairs. There were a few guests up here. Mostly couples talking or making out. I ignored them as my search for a bathroom or window continues. 

I walk down a hallway and reach for the handle of the first door to my right. I cross my fingers, hoping it's not an occupied bedroom. Much to my dismay, it's locked. I walk down a few steps and towards another door. This time it's unlocked. 

It wasn't a bathroom. It was, however, a bedroom. A small bedroom. There was a single bed pushed to the side of the room underneath a medium sized window. Thankfully, the bedroom was unoccupied. Free of any hormonal couples that were hoping to make it to third base. I lock the door behind me to prevent any incidents from occurring. 

I open the window, the fresh air filling my lungs. I take deep breaths. The quick, panicked beats of my heart slowing with each moment I stand here. Still. The light of the moon illuminates the bedroom. I lean back on the bed and against the wall. My knees pulled to my chest. The cool air filling the vacant room. 

It is then that I finally take notice of my surroundings. 

It was a small bedroom. The duvet white and the bed wooden. I reach over towards the lamp, turning it on. The iridescent glow illuminates the room. It was empty. With the exceptions of the bed, a dresser, a small desk and a mirror. 

I run my fingers over the dresser. An inaudible gasp escapes me. A thick layer of dust coats my finger. I brush my hand against my leg. It was apparent that nobody has been in this room recently. The layer of dust evidence of this theory. I scan over the items that lined the small dresser. 

A stack of books is piled on the side. A red and gold candle sitting on top. There's a glass jar of silk flowers. A pendant with the letter H hanging around it. Along the back are four picture frames. 

The first being one of a little blonde girl. It's a studio photograph. She must be no older than two. Her hair in high pigtails. A satin green dress covers her tiny body. Her think pink lips stretched into a big smile. 

Beside that is a photograph of a family. They were at Disneyland. The little girl looked to be five. She's laughing. Her eyes squinted shut. What seems to be her parents are on either side of her, each holding her hand. The photographer had caught them mid swing. The little girls' legs half in the air and half on the ground. The next photo was of the girl but older. Her long blonde hair was pushed back. In her hand was a bouquet of wild flowers. A daisy placed behind her ear. She was beautiful. 

It isn't until I look at the last photograph, that my heart stops. I feel my body tense. My stomach churns. What the hell? 

It's a photograph of the girl. It was from the same day as the other photo had been taken. But this one of being taken by the girl. She was smiling into the camera, a boy standing beside her. It was the boy that stood beside her that took me off guard. 

It was Harry. A young Harry. He looked to be no older than sixteen. His hair was cut shorter, but his curls were pushed to the side. He had a cheesy grin on his lips. His bright green eyes dancing in contentment and pure adoration. It was then that everything started to click. 

This was Sarah. Which in turn meant that this was her bedroom. A violent shiver courses through my body. 

No wonder Harry knew where we were going and why he was even more against coming here. We were at the home of his deceased girlfriend. Oh my God. I'm in the room she died in. I feel my heartbeat quicken in sudden realization. I rush towards the window and shutting it. I turn off the bedroom lamp and rush towards the door. I step it outside and make sure the door is closed behind me. 

Wait. If this was Sarah's bedroom, then who was Mason? I rack my mind for any previous say of Sarah having a brother. I couldn't remember Harry mentioning it. If he wasn't her brother then who was he? Why did he live in her old home? Where were her parents? So many unanswered questions began to flood my mind. Questions that I hoped I would be able to get the answers too. 

Yet amongst all the uncertainty, there was one thing I knew for sure: I had to find Harry. Quick.