This is a double update as per usual- Chapter 23 was uploaded before this so please make sure you read them in the correct order :)

♕Harley Anderson♕

Racing sober is already hard but racing with a hangover is even worse. The whole time I practiced with Isaac, he kept telling me to "get my shit together".

Shit, he doesn't know how hard I'm trying. Everything about me is a mess but every time I try get it together, something throws me off track. Again.

I return home after practice, catching up some sleep for two hours before getting up again and getting ready for my race this evening. My loss last night is still fresh in my mind, making me tremble in nerves for fear that tonight will be the same result. I enter the bathroom, pulling my hair into a low pony. The blonde is growing out now and I stare at my dark roots, wondering if I'll redo the blonde or leave my natural hair to grow out.

As I pull a hair tie around my hair, I catch a glimpse of my wrists in the mirror- my raw and aching wrists- and I look away, feeling nauseous at the thought and sight of what I've done. The thought of... killing myself is so insane to me and something I would never consider but... isn't cutting how it starts? Once upon time I also said I would never hurt myself and yet here I am. Not even when my father was using me as a punching bag did I cut. I promised myself that I wouldn't hurt myself- I wouldn't do what he did to me. I'm supposed to be the one person I can always rely on.

I drop my hand, entering the room again and rummaging through my jewelry before slipping some on- enough to hide the marks.

With a sigh, I grab my handbag and leave the apartment, driving to the track. I park in the lot and climb out, ignoring the lingering glances on me. Making my way to Isaac, I see my brother and I look away, walking faster to Isaac.

"When must I go?" I ask, ignoring Charlotte who watches me with a smug smile.

"After the next two. Make sure you don't lose tonight Harley. Jack wasn't pleased last night." Isaac warns lowly and I gulp, nodding stiffly.

"Good luck Harley." Charlotte says sarcastically and I throw her the middle finger before walking back to my car. With every step that I take, it feels like I'm pressing a button to increase my anxiety. My throat closes up and it's like I can't get air down. I put my hands against the hood of my car, leaning on it and closing my eyes. My stomach churns violently and I tremble vigorously, as if I'm freezing, and I try calm down.

I can't have an attack right now. Not here. Even with my car parked in a secluded area. I can't have it here.

"Harley?" I hear Cyrus say and I spin around to see him watching me in concern, eyebrows knitted together. "Are you okay?" He asks and I look away, staring at my distorted reflection on the car.

"Please go away Cyrus." I mumble but it's barely audible with how my voice wavers and how breathless it is.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

"Harley, whats wrong?" He presses, coming closer, and when I feel his touch on my back, I recoil away from him before  pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Please don't ask me that." I rasp out, leaning on the roof of my car with my elbows and I begin to hyperventilate.

"Harley. Shit. You're stressing me out. What's wrong?"

"I...I...can't br-breathe." I rasp out, holding my throat and closing my eyes shut.

"Why?" He asks, standing beside me and placing a hand on the small of my back. I'm too focused on trying to calm down to tell him not to touch me.

I don't answer.

"Harley."

"Cameron. I want Cameron." I cry out, closing my eyes so tightly that tears leak out of them. "I want Cameron."

"You need to relax Lee. You're going to pass out."

I zone him out, breathing in and out, in and out. I don't know how long I stand like that- head in my hands, eyes shut and my mind focused on breathing. But when I can finally get air in, I take a step away from Cyrus. His green eyes penetrate me and I suddenly have the urge to scream and kick but also... also embrace him. Embrace the love of a brother.

Instead, I sneer at him. "Next time you wonder why I want nothing to do with you, remember this. Because you made me like this."

The hurt that flickers over his features makes me feel a pang of guilt. He doesn't say anything to defend himself and instead slips his hands into his pickets before saying: "You should go home."

"I can't." I reply. "Isaac and Jack-"

"Go. I'll deal with them." He cuts me off before offering me a small, sad, smile. "I hope you get better."

And then he's walking away, disappearing into the crowd like he did all those years ago.

****

When I'm sat on the bed in the apartment, I cross my legs and hug them to my chest before I pick up my phone and dial Olivia's number. She picks up on the third ring, giving me little time to consider ending the call.

"Harley, honey?" She says and I close my eyes to the sound of her voice. "You there?" She asks and I take in a breath.

"Yeah I'm here."

"Oh honey. You sound sad... what's wrong?"

I sniffle, wiping my nose with my wrist. "I miss you."

"Oh Harley. I miss you too. But why are you really so upset? If you missed me so much, you would have com here already."

Tears pool in my eyes. "I'm such a mess mom. I'm such a mess."

"What's wrong? Sweetie, you know you can tell me anything."

I splutter on my tears. "No, I can't." I shake my head. "That's what makes it worse. I can't tell you Mom."

"Why do you think you can't tell me?" Olivia says gently and I look up at the roof, wiping under my eyes quickly.

"It's complicated mom. So complicated. I just... I just wanted to hear your voice. And remind you that I love you."

"Harley, I love you. Always. Even with all the distance and secrets. You'll always be my baby girl who is so strong, okay? Don't forget that. You were so strong back then and you still are. Please don't forget that."

I sniffle, biting on my lip as my vision blurs with unshed tears once again. "Cyrus is in the same apartment building I'm staying in." I blurt out and it's silent for a while.

"Are you happy about that?"

"No." I answer immediately, laughing shortly after.

"You can't avoid him forever y'know."

"I never wanted to see him again Mom."

"He's your brother Harley."

"Who abandoned me." I snap and she sighs. I can imagine her shaking her head to herself as she sits on the couch and holds the phone to her ear.

"You don't have to let him back in but forgiving him will help you more than it will help him. Trust me on that. Forgive him and move on honey. How do you think I've moved on from Mia's pathetic excuse of a father?" She replies, voice steady and calm. "You can't heal if you keep cutting into the same wound."

I sniffle, picking at the nail polish on my toes. "Yeah." I murmur softly. "You're right."

"Promise me you'll at least try? I worry about you."

Smiling softly, I nod my head. "I will."

"Good."

"Tell me how everything is going that side?" I suggest and my mom laughs before doing as I ask. She tells me about how Mia has taken up ballet and is absolutely loving it. Not only that but apparently she's very talented in dance and is having a recital at the end of the year. Hope blooms in my chest that I'll be able to go watch her then. Olivia talks about how she's decided to redecorate her house, moving onto painting it blue inside. It's different from what I imagine her having simply because our house was always shades of brown, cream and white so to imagine colour in her house is a strange idea for me. Turns out, she might be getting promoted from teacher to principal at her school and I gush over how happy I am for her. We talk about trivial little things. I don't talk about me or here and she doesn't ask about Danté and I'm grateful for that- I wanted the focus to move away from me. Eventually, my phone is running out of battery life and I'm ending the call with an "I love you, tell Mia I say hello."

When I'm back to having to focus on the silence in my apartment, I decide to slip on some shoes and head up to the rooftop. I discovered it a few days ago and after coming to the conclusion that it wasn't used, I decided it was safe to go there. The floor was grimy and the flower beds were sandy with dead weeds in them. There was a tattered couch covered in bird poop up there but it offered me space to breathe. It looked over Concord and I could almost see the ocean in the far distance. The stars were beautiful- so clear and vibrant. It would have being the perfect place to write a poem.

I text Danté, letting him know that's where I'll be before slipping my phone into my back pocket and unlocking the door. The first thing I open it to is a barrel of a gun staring down at me. I freeze, feet rooting to the spot as my hand grips the doorknob tightly. Slowly I lift my gaze from the deadly machine to the person holding it.

It's a girl. About my age although she's so short that she has to wear platform boots to make up in her lack of height. She's strange looking, having a face that one definitely wouldn't be able to forget with such elfish features. Her ears are pointier than that of an average person and her eyes are big and doe-like, giving a clear view to her blue orbs. Her hooked nose complements her round face and pouty lips that are painted with a light purple. Her hair is a deep onyx, matching her bushy and untamed eyebrows and she frowns when she looks me over.

With her white floral dress and my ripped jeans and leather jacket, it's almost comical that she's the one holding the gun.

"Who're you?" She asks. Her accent is not American but I can't pinpoint what exactly it is. I want to say Russian but a part of me wants to say Italian.

Gulping, I respond: "Harley." before regretting it because giving a stranger- who is pointing a gun at me- my name probably isn't the brightest idea.

Recognition flickers in her eyes though and she looks me up and down, almost as if trying to see if I'm lying.

"Es la niña. La que nos dijo que no toquemos. Elle vive en el apartmento." She says into what I assume is an ear piece. Recognizing it as Spanish, I can't pick up much of it with my frazzled nerves. But I am aware that they're talking about me. Whoever it is that she's talking to.

The person on the other end responds and she frowns.

"No puedo hacer eso. Ella nos matará a los dos." She snaps and I feel so uncomfortable awkwardly standing in the doorway with a gun to my head as a girl talks about me in Spanish to someone. She seems to be growing increasingly frustrated although her grip on the gun doesn't falter. Not even a little bit. "Ella na sabrá dónde está la maldita memoria."

Slowly, my mind pieces a few words together and I perk up, finding a way out of my possible death.

"Memory stick?" I ask, a bit breathlessly, hand still gripping the doorknob. The girl pauses from saying whatever it was to look at me. Cocking her head to the side, she narrows her eyes.

"You know where it is?" She asks and I swallow hard. I don't know where it is but that won't stop me from looking.

"No. But I'll help you look for it."

She smiles, revealing two rows of perfectly straight teeth.

"And why should I trust you eh?" She enquires, stepping a little closer. "You're a Slither. Snakes aren't known to be very truthful."

I almost laugh. "Do I look like I want to be here?" I ask, almost rhetorically. "I don't know if you've noticed but I haven't particularly tried to get on the Kings' bad side."

She studies me for a little while longer before dropping the gun and slipping it under her dress swiftly. She shuts the door behind her, locking it but never turning her back to me.

"If you're planning on trying something, I suggest you don't. I'm very hefty with a gun." She warns me, stepping further into the room and I drop my hand, shaking my head.

"I'm not."

She stares at me suspiciously for a few minutes. "I should be questioning your loyalty to your gang but since you're helping me, I'll skip the interrogation."

Her words help me realise how dangerous what I'm doing is. If Jack or Percy or Cyrus find out... I could be as good as dead. Sure, I might hate the gang and want to take them down but if I have to take myself down with it then it isn't worth it.

"How do I know you won't rat on me?" I ask and she lets out a snort. For such a short girl, she sure is intimidating.

"You're helping me. It would be stupid of me to do such a thing. Just... don't think I owe you. That's not how I roll." She shrugs and I nod, eyebrows scrunched together.

"Right." I shake my head to myself. "Anyway, do you know what this thing looks like?"

"Mmh." She hums, moving into the kitchen and feeling underneath the countertop. "It's purple and about... this big." She says, showing me with her fingers.

Nodding, I begin searching with her. Truthfully, I don't know where a USB wanted by a gang would be hidden nevertheless why it would be here, in this apartment. But I search anyway, checking under the couches and rug, in the cabinet below the TV. Me and... whoever this girl is search in silence, only the sound of whatever we're rummaging through filling the space.

"What exactly is on this USB?" I ask a little while later while I'm checking behind the fridge.

"Don't ask questions Harley."

I pause. "How do you know my name?" I glance at her to see her paused from feeling over the ceiling for some secret hiding spot.

"I know most of the members of the Slither gang."

I offer no response and continue coming up short when I find no purple memory stick. Even the girl is huffing in frustration and I sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Maybe we should check the bedroom and bathroom."

"No. It's somewhere here. That I'm one hundred percent sure of." She responds absentmindedly and confusion washes over me. If she's so sure, why haven't we found it yet?

"How would you know that?" Comes my reply and she rolls her eyes.

"You ask too many questions."

"You're in the apartment I'm living in, claiming to know that there's a USB somewhere here. I think I have a right to be curious."

She rolls her eyes. "Cyrus has owned this apartment for a while. And that USB belongs to us. It had a tracking device but whoever tried to hack it, fucked with the system and now we know it's here, in this room, just not where exactly. The accuracy is a little off."

My phone pings then and the girl perks up, narrowing her eyes at me. "Who's that?" She asks, jutting her chin out to my jean pockets. With a roll of my eyes, I pull it out and my eyes widen. Before I can comment or answer her, she's snatching it out of my grasp and reading it over with furrowed brows.

"Is Cameron your boyfriend?"

Nodding, I take my phone back from her.

"Okay well we need to hurry up because he's clearly on his way home."

Not quite sure where else to look, we both kind of just linger in the entrance, gazing around as we try and think of where it can be. It feels like we've looked everywhere and I knock myself as I try and look where else we can look. However, the girl's amused glance my way makes me frown.

"What?"

"Like, I get that being part of a gang is time consuming and all but do you and your boyfriend ever watch TV or something? That thing is dusty as hell." She muses, looking at the flat screen. In all truthfulness, Danté and I have never really being a huge movie couple. We'd rather sit in silence or just talk but we occasionally watched a move back home. But here... here we're too preoccupied to do something as normal as watch TV. "Actually," she says, stepping towards it. I watch as she fiddles behind it, pulling and pushing things I'm pretty sure she shouldn't be. "Those clever bastards." Grinning, she stands up straight again, holding the memory stick up in the air.

It was in such an obvious place- no wonder we didn't look there.

"Bien, lo encontré," she says into her earpiece before putting it her bra. "Thanks for the help Harley. Hopefully we won't run into each other again."

The door opens then and the girl flips the gun out swiftly, pointing it at Danté who pauses in the doorway with a confused frown before he looks between me and her.

"Can you put the damn gun down." I snap at her and she slips it back into her waistband with an eye roll before smiling at me.

"Chia."

She's leaving the apartment then, pushing passed Danté who is still too confused to react. He eventually turns to watch her retreating figure before looking back at me and from the look on his face, I know he has a lot of questions.

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