Songs for this chapter are:

Bravado- Lorde

Little House- The Fray

Taking the world on- Meese

Tessa's POV.

I trip over my own bare feet while rushing behind Hardin into the front yard of the house where he spent his haunting childhood. One of my knees lands on the grass but I quickly steady myself and get back on my feet. The front screen door is pulled open and I hear Hardin fumble with the door knob before his fist pounds against the wood.

"Hardin, please. Let's just go to the hotel," I try to convince him as I approach. He ignores my presence completely and bends down to grab something from the ground next to the porch. I assume it's a spare key but I'm quickly proven wrong when a fist sized rock is pushed through the glass pane on the center of the door. Hardin snakes his arm through, thankfully avoiding the sharp ridges of the broken glass and unlocks the door.

I look around the quiet street but nothing seems amiss. No one is outside to notice our disruption of the quiet neighborhood and no lights have flickered on at the sound of the glass breaking. I pray that Anne and Robin aren't staying next door at Robin's house tonight.

"Hardin," I repeat. I am walking on water here, trying my hardest to keep from sinking under. One slip up and we both will drown.

"This fucking house has been nothing but a tormenter of mine," he grumbles, stumbling over his boots. He catches himself on the arm of the small couch before he falls. I survey the living room and I'm grateful that most of the furnishings have been packed into boxes or  have already been removed from the house in preparation for the demolition following Anne's move.

He narrows his eyes and focuses on the couch. "This couch here," he presses his fingers against his forehead before finishing, "that's where it happened, you know? That exact same fucking couch," my stomach turns.

"Maybe one of my fucking father's could have thought to buy a new one." His eyes close momentarily.

"I'm so sorry, I know this is so much for you right now." I try to comfort him but he continues to ignore me.

He opens his eyes and walks into the kitchen and I follow a few feet behind. "Where is it.." he mumbles and drops to his knees to look inside the cabinet under the kitchen sink. "Gotcha," he says, holding up a bottle of clear liquor. I don't want to ask who's liquor it was- or is, and how it got there in the first place. Given the thin layer of dust that appears on Hardin's black t-shirt when he rubs the bottle against the fabric, I'd say it's been hiding in there for at least few months.

I follow him as he returns to the the living room, unsure of what he will do next. "I know you're upset and you are completely justified to be angry," I stand in front of him in a desperate attempt to gain his attention. He refuses to even glance down at me.

"Can we please go back to the hotel?" I reach for his hand but he pulls away. "We can talk and you can sober up, please. Or you can go to sleep, whatever you want but please, we need to leave here."

Hardin ducks around me and walks back to the tattered couch. "She was here," he uses the bottle of liquor to point to the couch. My eyes prick with tears but I swallow them down,  "and no one came to fucking stop it. Neither of those fuck-ups," he spits and twists the top off of the full bottle. He presses the bottle to his lips and tips his head back, gulping it down.

"Enough!" I shout, stepping closer to him. I'm fully prepared to yank that bottle right from his hands and pour it down the sink. I don't know how much more alcohol his body can stand before he passes out.

Hardin takes another drink before stopping. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the excess liquor from his mouth and chin. "Why? You want some?" He grins and looks at me for the first time since we entered this house.

"No- Yes, actually I do." I lie. I just want the bottle away from him.

"Too bad, Tessie. There isn't enough to share." He slurs, holding up the large bottle. I cringe at the use of my father's nickname for me. It has to be at least a liter of whatever liquor it is, the label is worn and half torn. I wonder how long ago he hid it there, was it during the worst eleven days or my entire life?

"I bet you're loving this," he says to me. I take a step back and try to think of a plan of action. I don't have many options right now and honestly, I'm becoming a little frightened. I know he would never physically hurt me but I'm not emotionally prepared for another lashing from him. I've gotten too used to the somewhat controlled Hardin that I have been graced with lately, still sarcastic and moody, but no longer hateful. The gleam in his bloodshot eyes is all too familiar to me and I can almost see the malice brewing behind them.

"Why would I be loving this? I hate seeing you this way. I never want you to be hurting like this, Hardin." I tell him. He smiles and softly chuckles before lifting the bottle and pouring some onto the couch cushions.

"Did you know that rum is one of the most flammable of spirits?" He asks me. My blood runs cold.

"Hardin, I-"

"This rum here is one hundred proof. That's pretty damn high," he interrupts me. His voice is hazy, slow and frightening, as he continues to douse the couch with the dangerous liquid. He's going to try and catch the couch on fire, what the heck am I supposed to do?

"Hardin!" My voice grows louder. "What are you going to do then? Burn the house down? That isn't going to change anything!" I shout at him.

"You should go. No kids allowed," he sneers, waving a dismissive hand toward me.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Feeling brave, and slightly afraid, I reach for the bottle and grip the handle. Hardin's nostrils flare and he tries to remove my grip from the glass handle.

"Let go of it. Now." He says through his teeth.

"No."

"Tessa, don't push me," he warns.

"What are you going to do, Hardin? Fight me over a bottle of alcohol?" I challenge him. His eyes go wide, his mouth opens in surprise when he looks at both of our hands playing tug of war. "Give me the bottle." I demand, tightening my grip on the handle of the large bottle. It's heavy and Hardin isn't making it any easier, but my adrenaline is pumping, giving me the strength I need.

He curses under his breath and pulls his hand away. I didn't expect him to give in that easily so as his weight is removed, the bottle slips from my hand and topples to the ground in front of us, spilling onto aged wooden floor.

"Leave it there." I say, reaching for it as I suggest the opposite.

"I don't see the big deal here," he grabs the bottle before I can and pours more liquor onto the couch then he walks in a circle around the room, leaving a trail of flammable rum behind him. "This shit hole is going to be demolished anyway, I'm doing the new owners a favor."

I slowly turn away from Hardin and reach into my purse to find my phone. The battery symbol is flashing on the screen, warning me that I only have minutes until my phone shuts off completely. I dial the only number that could possibly help us at this point.

I keep the phone in my hand when I turn back to Hardin. "The police will come to your mother's house if you do this. You will get arrested Hardin." I tell him, praying that the person on the other line can hear me.

"Don't give a fuck," he mumbles, his jaw clenched. "I can still hear her screaming. Her cries sounded like wounded fucking animal. Do you know what that sounds like to a little boy?" My heart aches for Hardin, both versions of him, the innocent little boy who was forced to watch his mother beaten and violated and the angry, hurt, man who stands in front of me attempting to burn down the entire house to rid himself of the memory.

"You don't want to go to jail, do you? Where would I go? I would be stranded." I say, not really giving a damn about myself, but hoping that the idea will make him reconsider his actions.

He stares at me for a moment, my words seem to have rattled him. "Call a cab now and walk down to the end of the street. I'll make sure you're gone before I do anything." His voice is clearer now than it should be, considering the amount of liquor in his blood.

"I don't have any way to pay for a cab," I tell him, digging out my wallet and showing him my American currency.

His eyes pinch closed and he chucks the bottle against the wall. It shatters but I barely flinch, I've seen and heard this too many times in the last seven months to be shaken by it.

"Take my god damn wallet and get out. Fuck!" he pulls his wallet from his back pocket and tosses it onto the floor in front of my feet. I bend down and shove it into my purse.

"No. You're coming with me."

"You are so perfect, you know that right?" He takes a step toward me and lifts his hand to cup my cheek. I flinch at the contact and a deep frown sets on his beautifully tormented face. "Don't you know that? That you are perfect." He repeats, his hand is hot against my cheek and his thumb begins to move across the skin. I can feel my lips trembling but I keep a straight face.

"No. I'm not perfect, Hardin. No one is." I quietly reply, my eyes staring into his.

"You are. You're too perfect for me." My heart sinks. We are back to this?

"I'm not going to let you push me away. I know what you are doing, you're drunk and you are trying to justify this by comparing us. I'm just as fucked up as you."

"Don't talk like that." He frowns again. "It doesn't sound right coming from that beautiful mouth," his other hand moves up to my jaw and pushes into my hair. His thumb runs along my bottom lip and I can't help but compare the way that his eyes are burning with dark pain and rage, yet his touch and voice are so light and gentle. 

"I love you and I'm not going anywhere." I say, praying to break through his drunken haze. I search his eyes for any hint of my Hardin.

“If two people love each other, there can be no happy end to it.” He softly replies.

Instantly recognizing the words, I tear my eyes from his. "Don't quote Hemingway to me." I snap. Did he think I wouldn't recognize it and know what he was trying to do?

"It's true though. There's no happy ending, not for me anyway. I'm too fucked up." He drops his hands from my face and turns away from me.

"No you aren't! You-" 

"Why do you do that?" He slurs, his body sways back and forth. "Why do you always try to find the light in me? Wake up, Tessa! There isn't any fucking light!" He screams and slams both of his hands against his chest. 

"I'm nothing! I'm a fucked up, piece of shit with fucked up parents and a fucked up head! I tried to warn you, I tried to push you away before I destroyed you.." his voice gets lower and he reaches into his pocket. I recognize the purple lighter as Judy's from the bar. Hardin doesn't look at me as he strikes the flame.

"My parents are messed up too! My father is in rehab for god's sake!" I shout back at him.

I knew this would happen, I knew Christian's confession would be Hardin's breaking point. One person can only handle so much and Hardin was already so fragile.

"It's your last chance to go before this place burns to the ground," he says without looking at me.

"You'll burn down the house with me in it?" I choke. I'm crying now but I don't remember when I started.

"No." He says. His boots are so loud as he crosses the room, my head is spinning, my heart is aching and I'm afraid I've lost my sense of reality. "Come on," he lifts his hand to me, asking me to take it.

"Give me the lighter."

"Come here," he holds both arms to me. I'm full on sobbing now. "Please,"

"Give me the lighter and we can leave together." I force myself to ignore his familiar beckoning, no matter how much it hurts to do so. I want to run into his arms and take him away from here. But this is no Austen novel with a happy ending and good intentions, this is a Hemingway at best and I can see right through his gesture.

"You almost had me believing that I could be normal." He says, the lighter still resting dangerously in his palm.

"No one is," I cry. "No one is normal, I don't want you to be. I love you now, I love you and all of this!" I look around the living room and back to Hardin.

"You couldn't. No one would or ever has, not even my own mum,"

Relief floods through me when the front door opens and Christian rushes into the living room. He stops in his tracks when he takes in the state of the small room, liquor covering nearly every inch.

"What-" Christian begins, his eyes narrow at the lighter in Hardin's hand. "I heard sirens on my way here. We need to leave, now!" He shouts.

"How did you.." Hardin looks back and forth between Christian and I. "You called him?"

"Of course she did! What was she going to do? Let you burn the house down and get yourself arrested?" Christian yells.

"Get the fuck out! Both of you!" Hardin throws his hands in the air, still holding that lighter.

"Tessa, go outside." Christian turns to me.

"No, I'm not leaving him in here." I stand my ground. Has Christian not learned that Hardin and I shouldn't be separated?

"Go," Hardin says, taking a step toward me. He flicks his thumb across the metal of the lighter, igniting the flame. "Take her outside," he slurs.

"My car is parked in the alley across the street, go to it and wait for us." Christian instructs. When I look at Hardin his eyes are set on the white flame and I know him well enough to know that he is going to do this whether I leave or not. He's too intoxicated and too upset to stop now.

A cold set of keys is placed into my hand, "I'm not going to let anything happen to him." He promises me. After a moment of internal battle, I wrap my fingers around the keys and walk out of the front door without looking back. I run across the street and pray that the sirens in the distance have another destination in mind.

Hardin's POV.

"Go ahead!" Vance yells, waving his hands in front of him. What is he talking about and why the fuck is he even here? I hate Tessa for calling him. I take that back, I could never hate her but fuck, she pisses me off.

"No one wants you here," my mouth feels numb as I speak to this man. My eyes are burning. Where is Tessa? Did she leave? I thought she did, but now I'm confused.

"Light the fire." He says to me.

"Why? You want me to burn with the house? All your mistakes would be gone if I were too," the metal on the lighter burns the rough skin on my thumb but I continue to play with fire.

"No, I want you to burn the house down. Maybe then you can have some peace." I think he may be yelling at me but I can barely see straight, let alone measure the volume of his voice. He's actually giving me his permission to burn this shit down? Who said I need fucking permission?

"Who are you to give me the okay? I didn't fucking ask you," I lower the flame down to the arm of the couch and wait. Nothing happens.

"That's not going to work," he says. Or maybe I am the one speaking, hell if I know. I reach for an old magazine lying on top of one of the boxes and bring the flame to the corner of the pages. It immediately ignites. I watch the fire travel up the pages and toss the burning book onto the couch.

I'm impressed by how quickly the fire swallows the couch and I swear I can feel the fucking memories burning along with the piece of shit.

The trail of rum is next, it's burning in a line. My eyes can barely keep up with the flames as they dance across the floorboards, flicking and cracking, making the most comforting sounds.

"Are you satisfied?" Vance shouts over the sound of the flames. I don't know if I am. Tessa wouldn't be, she would be sad that I destroyed the house.

"Where is she?" I ask him, searching the room. If she is in here and something happens to her..

"She's outside. She's safe." He assures me. I fucking hate him. This is all his fault. If he would have raised me I wouldn't be this bad of a person. I wouldn't have hurt so many people, especially Tessa. I never wanted to hurt her but I always do.

"Where were you?" I ask him. I wish the flames would grow. At their small size, the house will never burn completely. I may have stashed another bottle somewhere. I can't think clearly enough to remember.

"I was at the hotel with Kimberly. Let's go before the fire department arrives or you get yourself hurt."

"No, where were you that night." I clarify. The room is beginning to spin and the heat from the burning room is suffocating me.

"I wasn't here! I was in America. I would never let something like that happen to her! We need to go!" He yells. Why would we go? I want to watch this shit burn.

"Well it happened anyway," my body is getting heavier and heavier. I should probably sit down but if I have to play these images in my head, so does he. "She was beaten to a bloody fucking pulp. Each of them had their way with her, they fucked her over and over," my chest hurts so fucking bad I wish I could reach inside of and yank everything out. Everything was easier before I met Tessa, nothing could hurt me. Even this shit didn't hurt me like this, I had learned to suppress it until she made me.. she made me feel shit that I never wanted to and now I can't seem to turn it off.

"I'm sorry! I am so sorry that happened! I would have stopped it!" He's crying. How dare him fucking cry when he didn't have to watch it, he didn't have to see it each time he closed his eyes to sleep, year after year after year.

Flashing blue lights pour through the windows, interrupting my bonfire. The sirens are fucking loud, holy shit they are loud. 

"Get out!" Vance shouts. "Get out now! Go out the back door and get in my car! Go!" He frantically screams. Fucking dramatics.

"Fuck you," I stumble, the room is spinning faster now and the sirens are piercing my ears.

Before I can stop him, his hands are on me and he's pushing my drunken body through the living room and kitchen. I try to push back but my muscles refuse to cooperate. The cold air hits me, making me dizzy and my ass lands on the concrete.

"Go to the alley and get in my car." I think he says. I scramble to my feet after falling over a few times and try to open the back door, he fucking locked it. I hear multiple voices, all shouting and something buzzing. What the fuck is that?

I pull my phone from my pocket and see Tessa's name flashing across the screen. I can either go find his car in the alley and face her or I can go inside and get arrested. I look at her blurry face on the screen and the decision is made for me.

I can't for the life of me figure out how the fuck I am going to get across the street without the cops spotting me. The screen on my phone is duplicated and shifting but somehow I manage to dial Tessa's number.

"Hardin! Are you alright?" She cries into the speaker.

"Pick me up at the end of the street, in front of the cemetery." I lift the latch on the neighbor's gate and end the call. At least I don't have to go through Robin's yard. That could be awkward. Did he marry my mum today? For his sake, I hope not.

"You wouldn't want her to be alone forever. I know you love her, she's still your mother." Tessa's voice rings through my head. Great, now I'm hearing voices.

"I'm not perfect. No one is." Her sweet voice reminds me. She's wrong though, she's very wrong and naïve and perfect.

I manage to find myself standing at the corner of my mum's street. The cemetery behind me is dark, the only light is coming from the flashing blue's in the distance. The black beamer pulls up moments later and Tessa stops in front of me.

I climb into the car without a word and she presses the gas pedal. "Where should I go?" Her voice is hoarse and she's trying to stop sobbing but she's failing miserably.

"I don't know. There aren't many," my eyes are heavy. "Places here, it's night and late.. and there's nothing open..." I close my eyes and everything fades away.

...

The sound of police sirens startles me awake. I jump at the loud noise and my head slams against the roof of the car. Car? Why the fuck am I in a car? I look over and find Tessa sitting in the passenger seat, her eyes closed and her legs curled up against her body. I'm instantly reminded of a sleepy kitten. My head is fucking killing me. I drank way too fucking much.

It's daylight, the sun is hiding behind the clouds, leaving the sky gray and dreary. The clock on the dashboard informs me that it's ten minutes until seven. I don't recognize the parking lot we are parked in and I try to remember how the hell I got in the car in the first place.

There are no police cars or sirens now.. I must have been hearing them in my sleep. My head is throbbing and when pull my shirt up to wipe my face, the thick smell of smoke invades my nostrils.

Flickers of a burning couch and Tessa crying play through my mind. I struggle to put them together, I'm still half drunk.

Tessa stirs next to me and her eyes flutter before opening. I don't know how what she saw last night, I don't know what I said or did, but I do know that the way she is looking at me right now makes me wish I would have burned with that house.

"Tessa, I-" I don't know what to say to her, my mind isn't working and neither is my fucking mouth. Judy's bleached hair and Christian pushing me out the back door of my mum's house fill some of the gaps in my memory.

"Are you okay?" She asks me, her voice soft and rough at the same time. I can tell she has nearly lost her voice.

She's asking me if I'm okay?

"Uhm, yeah? Are you?" I search her face, confused by her question. I may not remember most of the night..hell the day or night, but I know she should be upset with me.

She nods slowly, her eyes performing the same searching that mine are.

"I'm trying to remember.." I tell her. "The cops came.." I sift through the memories as they come. "The house was burning.. where are we?" I look out the window, trying to figure it out.

"We are.. well I'm not really sure where we are," she clears her throat and looks straight ahead through the windshield. She must have been screaming a lot. Or crying, or both, because she can barely speak.

"I didn't know where to go and you fell asleep so I just kept driving but I was so tired. I had to pull off the road eventually." Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, black makeup is smeared underneath them and her lips are dry and cracked. She's barely recognizable, still beautiful, but I've drained her.

Looking at her right now I can see the lack of warmth in her cheeks, the loss of hope from her eyes, the missing happiness from her full lips. I took a beautiful girl who lives her life for others, a girl who always found the good in everything, even me, and turned her into a shell who's void eyes are staring back at me now.

"I'm going to be sick," I choke and yank the passenger door open. All of the whiskey, all of the rum, and all of my mistakes splatter against the concrete and I repeatedly vomit until I'm left with nothing but my guilt.

(A lot of you have been asking for me to start an update schedule so you know exactly when I will be updating. I can't really do that because I don't prewrite my chapters like some writers do. I just prefer to write them and post them directly after but I will do my best to keep you updated on twitter (I usually do that anyway but I will be more specific) my twitter is imaginator1dx (don't forget the x!) and thank you so much for all three afters having over 110 million reads! I can't even wrap my head around that! I love you guys so much and I appreciate all of you even the ghost readers<3 hah.