♕Harley Anderson♕

I feel like the world is tumbling down. Like any sense of normalcy and sanity has vanished from my life and all I'm stuck with is chaos.

I don't move from where I stay seated on the floor. Just a few meters away from me lies Frank's body. A pool of blood surrounds it from where I shot him in the head and the gun that I used lies by my feet. I don't know what Danté and Mason are deciding to do with Frank. However, the both of them compose themselves well as they drag the body out of the building. The trail of blood that's left behind makes me bring up the waffles I ate for breakfast. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and lean my head back on the wall.

The feeling of pulling the trigger and seeing Frank's body falling to the floor makes me shiver. I didn't want to kill him. But if I didn't, he would have shot Danté.

"Harley." Danté says and I peek at him through an eye. "Come on."
He helps me to my feet, picking up the gun that I used and tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. I don't ask where he's taking me as I sit in the car.

"Where did you get the gun?" Is his first question and I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. I just killed someone and he's asking me where I got the gun.

"I found it under the kitchen island." I confess. It was by chance I had knocked my knee on it.

He doesn't say anything and when he pulls up outside of our apartment, I feel dreadful of what is to come. I killed a man- I can go to jail.

Danté doesn't let me think about it for much longer when he's climbing out of the car and rounding my side to open my door. I climb out and follow him into the apartment. His strides are calm but purposeful and when we enter the kitchen, he begins digging through various items. He knocks some out of the the cupboards but doesn't care to put them back. He pulls out cleaning supplies and sets them on the island.

I watch him from the doorway, not knowing what you're supposed to do after you've killed a man. Danté tosses all of the products into a packet before his eyes meet mine from across the room. He's by my side in a few long strides, clipping my chin and forcing me to look at him. His eyes are wide and look between the both of mine in worry.

"I'm going to take care of the mess. Just stay here okay? And please don't do anything... irrational. We're going to be fine." He says in one breath, gently, and I swallow thickly, managing one nod. He kisses my forehead before pulling away and grabbing the packet, leaving the apartment after watching me for a second too long.

When I'm alone again, I gulp and look around.

I start for his cupboards, too, and rummage through the contents. I stumble upon a bottle of whiskey and I unscrew the cap before taking a long gulp. The liquid burns my throat but I don't care, I drink some more. I shut my eyes tightly, the blood and lifeless body coming to my mind when I do so and I growl, taking another sip.

I take more and more, hoping to numb the pain and the reality of what I've done.

****

When there is only a third left in the whiskey bottle, I decide to call it quits and close the cap. That, however, is proven a difficult task as the buzz from the alcohol doesn't allow my cognitive skills to work that well.

I hate being drunk. I hate not being able to think straight or be able to act normal. But what else must you do when you've just killed a man?

That thought causes me to take another sip, the liquor making me cringe from an oncoming headache.

You're a murderer.

I clip the bridge of my nose in frustration at the voice in my head.

I never wanted to be like my father. He hurt my mother by not loving her and making her feel like she had to run away from home to escape her life and my father physically hurt me and Cyrus. I thought that was as bad as it could get but, now as I sit here after taking the life of a man, I know that it isn't.

Before I can think much of it, I'm throwing the bottle of alcohol against the wall and it shatters into a million tiny fragments. I look at the mess and feel desperation claw it's way into my mind.

Why am I in a never ending cycle of pain?

I run a hand through my hair and try to calm myself down but it doesn't work. I feel the sob rip through my chest and I'm crying into my hands in no time, my heart stinging with a pain unfamiliar to me.

I'm a horrible person.

My chest heaves up and down as I cry, the reality of my life too much to handle. First, I'm abused by my own father before my brother and mother abandons me. After that I find out I have a mental disorder and have to live in fear of the dark. Then, I end up in a coma after being harassed by Frank and then I go and kill him. How much more fucked up can it get?

I don't move from the chair. The glass of whiskey in front of me stays untouched and I stay frozen with my head in my hands as I weep. And damn, do I weep. I weep over the unloving family I was forced to grow up with, I weep for the brother I loved and lost, I weep for the fact that I'm dysfunctional, I weep for the man who loves me, I weep for never being able to race again, I weep for missing two weeks off my life, I weep for killing a man. But mostly, I weep because I don't want this. I don't want any more pain.

I don't know how long I cry for but when Danté enters the door, I'm stiff from sitting in the same position and my eyes are puffy and sore. My head is pounding like I've being punched and my cheeks are wet with salty tears. I look up to him, managing to force a smile onto my face. He looks between me, the glass of whiskey and the bottle of it on the floor before his eyes soften.

He rounds the island and reaches out to touch me softly as if he's scared he'll break me if he's too rough. "You shouldn't be drinking. You're on heavy medication." He mutters and I let out a laugh.

"If you haven't noticed, that's the last of my worries right now."

"It should be a priority."

"I just killed a man Danté! Do you think I care about that?" I yell suddenly.

He purses his lips. "You did what you had to do. No matter who pulled the trigger, someone wasn't going to walk out of there alive." He says and I shake my head.

"I couldn't let him kill you." I mumble softly. "I couldn't lose you Danté. That's why I shot him."

"And you're not going to lose me."

"I can go to jail!" I hiss and he shakes his head.

"Mason and I cleaned up. We took care of everything- made sure there was no evidence."

I frown. "The...body?"

"It doesn't matter. Just trust me when I say that nobody is going to find out. As long as you keep quiet." His eyes hold my gaze and I gulp.

"What happens now?" I ask hoarsely.

Danté chews on his lip. "We pretend like it never happened."

Pretend? I must pretend like I never killed a man? That I'm not a monster?

"This isn't your fault Harley. It was a lose-lose situation. Please don't blame yourself," Danté pleads and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. How can I believe that? He clips my chin and forces me to look at him. "We're going to be okay, okay? We'll get through this."

His voice is steady, sure, and I find myself believing him. "Okay." I respond. "We're going to be okay."

•••

Here is an early update to wish you all a happy new year and a great 2020! God bless!

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