Hide & Seek (Larry Stylinson AU)
Chapter 26
*HARRY'S POV*
Turns out Lou - my Lou - really did have to cover for Seth during his break and a rain check had to be enlisted regarding our promised lunch plans. I stumble into our flat with determination, locking the door behind me and checking the time. Lou let me have the car but also squeezed a promise to pick him up - and to not be late - out of me.
I hope Louis responsibly asks for my portion of the rent soon, so that I'd take it as a leniant proposal and opportunity to seek employment. I could work at the hardware store but I don't want to cramp Louis' space and make him upset. I could work downstairs with Martha in the deli. I'd have to ask Louis first, to see if he even thinks it's okay to get a job yet.
It really did annoy everyone - being Lou (I hope) and I - that even though I walked regularly on the streets here and nobody cared to yell or get violent because of me, there was still a cloud. A dampened cloud that was swelling with a storm that threatened to release all over us.
Up in the attic I remove my heavy green jumper, leaving only a black T-shirt underneath and reach for my bandanna. I realise that I don't have it on and frown because I haven't used it in a while. It was a burden of sorts, but a positive one. It kept me from letting my temper take over in threatening situations which came in handy after meeting a certain quiffed, short and very defensive Louis. I hate to think what would have happened if I hurt him.
I've only managed to sort through - though the task does not fall under my duty list - about a tenth of the total quantity. I found some interesting bits that I hope to present to Louis tonight when he gets back - or when I go get him. His shift ends at five on weekdays and one on the weekend.
I almost knock over a pile of unsturdy filing boxes before I steady the shaking tower that stops at my neck. I go over my table by the window, one that still has the dust on it that it did twenty years ago. Several articles are spread out before me, displaying several horrific images and conveying such tragic stories of families with a single thing in common. They lived at Lost Lake.
Hamster scurries across the room like the uninterested rodent he is.
April Febbs and her husband, Joe Febbs, were killed in the year 1924 in the same house my things still sit in.
Olivia Jones and her husband, Matthew Jones, with their two daughters, Ally and Octavia, were also killed there but in 1945.
Kimberly and Scott Ellis and their three daughters, Marissa, Katy and Sam, were also found strangled in the living room. That was in 1956.
In October of 1985 a family of six was discovered mutilated in the back yard. The daughters were playing on the same swing Gemma and I played on.
There were two more but the most well-known and final act of terror, was the death of Anne, Des and Gemma Styles. Both women were killed within the house while Des was outside chopping wood for that cold night.
I swallow and stare at the photo of my family, alive and smiling by the beautiful lake. Beautiful to all those who didn't know its sinister secrets. I brush my calloused thumb over our newly furnished house. We lived there sinvce my birth, after Des insisted there was opportunity in the small town.
*NARRATOR'S POV*
The officials didn't bother to mark off the house from property guides and so what has happened four times in the past, happened again.
Reminicing, my son?
Harry is no longer spooked by her anything but charming and cold voice that prods against his eardrums so suddenly recently. "I am not your son."
Oh but I am your mother, aren't I?
He doesn't turn around but if he did, he would see that she is closer than desired. Her anti-gravitational locks of fading brown hair is drifting mid-air to the left and her onyx teeth are smirking at his audacity. She is amused, but has a short fuse.
"No, Edith." Harry clenches his jaw. "You aren't."
He's never addressed her by her birthname and it made for a good avoidance technique. But now he was fed up and desperate for freedom so he did everything he could.
Her face resembles a snake ready to strike when she hears her name.
I took care of you all those years-
"You asked me to commit murder for you!" Harry finds his courage and turns around. Regret. Her white eyes stay trained on him and he notices that the face looking back at him isn't his mothers. His chest tightens.
I like my old look. Do you?
He straightens his back. "You used my mother's face to manipulate me. I want nothing to do with you."
You think you have a choice, Harry? You're mine.
"I am not yours!" Harry is positively seething now. "I am someone else's."
Oh? And is it that premature Louis you are referring to?
"Don't."
It seems you've forgotten just how much I can do. Remember yesterday? When I made you bed your Louis like you never could in consciousness?
Harry growls, low and threatening. He could do nothing to her and it ate at him.
I know you want to protect him so much that you're willing to be a complete idiot. But it turns out
I have come with news of my favour.
"What is it then?"
I want you to inflict the worst kind of pain, Harry. The kind that's noteworthy and will make you unforgettable.
"I don't want to be unforgettable."
Oh, don't be sap!
Harry's teeth rub against eachother. "What pain?"
It's not that easy. I'm not going to tell you but if you don't do this, then next time I'll let you enjoy making Louis bleed.
If Harry's pupils were any more dilated they'd be covering his eyelids. His anger was everywhere. Bouncing off walls and echoing in their ears. Well, his ears because hers had decayed and fallen off many deaths ago.
I'm reasonable, Harry. I want you to be happy. So do this for me and I'll leave you alone forever.
The wide grin on her face held no happiness and well wishes but he nodded so that he won't gag from the stench when he tried to speak.
She vanishes before time can start strolling by again and Harry is left totally unresolved, frustrated and so very confused. He has to get to Louis to make sure he's okay, he can't trust her to leave Louis alone so soon.
Louis is locking up the cash register and munching on the three almonds Roger spared from his lunch. He was exhausted and just wanted to sleep forever.
Pizza or Chinese? McDonalds maybe. Louis' last attempt at cooking was a flaming catastrophe and he refuses to get the humiliation repeated. Maybe a movie, indoors and on the mattress before it gets hauled back into the bedroom. The idea's massively tempting and he demands that it starts now before wondering why Harry isn't here at 16h47.
With one slam of the drawer Louis gets a nasty pink thumb from the pressured pinch and he slips it past his lips for comfort. The bell of the front door rings but he doesn't look up from inspecting his thumb.
"Sorry. We're closed." He says automatically.
You must be Louis. I'm Edith.
[A/N: Song for this chapter is Breathing by Jason Derulo. I've been wanting to write from good ol' Harry's point of view I think since Darwin. Haha. So.......I am sitting in a very large leather chair and waiting for more emails to save. Please tell me how you loved/hated this work so far. I love you all to itty bitty pieces. - S xx]
Turns out Lou - my Lou - really did have to cover for Seth during his break and a rain check had to be enlisted regarding our promised lunch plans. I stumble into our flat with determination, locking the door behind me and checking the time. Lou let me have the car but also squeezed a promise to pick him up - and to not be late - out of me.
I hope Louis responsibly asks for my portion of the rent soon, so that I'd take it as a leniant proposal and opportunity to seek employment. I could work at the hardware store but I don't want to cramp Louis' space and make him upset. I could work downstairs with Martha in the deli. I'd have to ask Louis first, to see if he even thinks it's okay to get a job yet.
It really did annoy everyone - being Lou (I hope) and I - that even though I walked regularly on the streets here and nobody cared to yell or get violent because of me, there was still a cloud. A dampened cloud that was swelling with a storm that threatened to release all over us.
Up in the attic I remove my heavy green jumper, leaving only a black T-shirt underneath and reach for my bandanna. I realise that I don't have it on and frown because I haven't used it in a while. It was a burden of sorts, but a positive one. It kept me from letting my temper take over in threatening situations which came in handy after meeting a certain quiffed, short and very defensive Louis. I hate to think what would have happened if I hurt him.
I've only managed to sort through - though the task does not fall under my duty list - about a tenth of the total quantity. I found some interesting bits that I hope to present to Louis tonight when he gets back - or when I go get him. His shift ends at five on weekdays and one on the weekend.
I almost knock over a pile of unsturdy filing boxes before I steady the shaking tower that stops at my neck. I go over my table by the window, one that still has the dust on it that it did twenty years ago. Several articles are spread out before me, displaying several horrific images and conveying such tragic stories of families with a single thing in common. They lived at Lost Lake.
Hamster scurries across the room like the uninterested rodent he is.
April Febbs and her husband, Joe Febbs, were killed in the year 1924 in the same house my things still sit in.
Olivia Jones and her husband, Matthew Jones, with their two daughters, Ally and Octavia, were also killed there but in 1945.
Kimberly and Scott Ellis and their three daughters, Marissa, Katy and Sam, were also found strangled in the living room. That was in 1956.
In October of 1985 a family of six was discovered mutilated in the back yard. The daughters were playing on the same swing Gemma and I played on.
There were two more but the most well-known and final act of terror, was the death of Anne, Des and Gemma Styles. Both women were killed within the house while Des was outside chopping wood for that cold night.
I swallow and stare at the photo of my family, alive and smiling by the beautiful lake. Beautiful to all those who didn't know its sinister secrets. I brush my calloused thumb over our newly furnished house. We lived there sinvce my birth, after Des insisted there was opportunity in the small town.
*NARRATOR'S POV*
The officials didn't bother to mark off the house from property guides and so what has happened four times in the past, happened again.
Reminicing, my son?
Harry is no longer spooked by her anything but charming and cold voice that prods against his eardrums so suddenly recently. "I am not your son."
Oh but I am your mother, aren't I?
He doesn't turn around but if he did, he would see that she is closer than desired. Her anti-gravitational locks of fading brown hair is drifting mid-air to the left and her onyx teeth are smirking at his audacity. She is amused, but has a short fuse.
"No, Edith." Harry clenches his jaw. "You aren't."
He's never addressed her by her birthname and it made for a good avoidance technique. But now he was fed up and desperate for freedom so he did everything he could.
Her face resembles a snake ready to strike when she hears her name.
I took care of you all those years-
"You asked me to commit murder for you!" Harry finds his courage and turns around. Regret. Her white eyes stay trained on him and he notices that the face looking back at him isn't his mothers. His chest tightens.
I like my old look. Do you?
He straightens his back. "You used my mother's face to manipulate me. I want nothing to do with you."
You think you have a choice, Harry? You're mine.
"I am not yours!" Harry is positively seething now. "I am someone else's."
Oh? And is it that premature Louis you are referring to?
"Don't."
It seems you've forgotten just how much I can do. Remember yesterday? When I made you bed your Louis like you never could in consciousness?
Harry growls, low and threatening. He could do nothing to her and it ate at him.
I know you want to protect him so much that you're willing to be a complete idiot. But it turns out
I have come with news of my favour.
"What is it then?"
I want you to inflict the worst kind of pain, Harry. The kind that's noteworthy and will make you unforgettable.
"I don't want to be unforgettable."
Oh, don't be sap!
Harry's teeth rub against eachother. "What pain?"
It's not that easy. I'm not going to tell you but if you don't do this, then next time I'll let you enjoy making Louis bleed.
If Harry's pupils were any more dilated they'd be covering his eyelids. His anger was everywhere. Bouncing off walls and echoing in their ears. Well, his ears because hers had decayed and fallen off many deaths ago.
I'm reasonable, Harry. I want you to be happy. So do this for me and I'll leave you alone forever.
The wide grin on her face held no happiness and well wishes but he nodded so that he won't gag from the stench when he tried to speak.
She vanishes before time can start strolling by again and Harry is left totally unresolved, frustrated and so very confused. He has to get to Louis to make sure he's okay, he can't trust her to leave Louis alone so soon.
Louis is locking up the cash register and munching on the three almonds Roger spared from his lunch. He was exhausted and just wanted to sleep forever.
Pizza or Chinese? McDonalds maybe. Louis' last attempt at cooking was a flaming catastrophe and he refuses to get the humiliation repeated. Maybe a movie, indoors and on the mattress before it gets hauled back into the bedroom. The idea's massively tempting and he demands that it starts now before wondering why Harry isn't here at 16h47.
With one slam of the drawer Louis gets a nasty pink thumb from the pressured pinch and he slips it past his lips for comfort. The bell of the front door rings but he doesn't look up from inspecting his thumb.
"Sorry. We're closed." He says automatically.
You must be Louis. I'm Edith.
[A/N: Song for this chapter is Breathing by Jason Derulo. I've been wanting to write from good ol' Harry's point of view I think since Darwin. Haha. So.......I am sitting in a very large leather chair and waiting for more emails to save. Please tell me how you loved/hated this work so far. I love you all to itty bitty pieces. - S xx]
Notes
[A/N: Song for this chapter is Breathing by Jason Derulo. I've been wanting to write from good ol' Harry's point of view I think since Darwin. Haha. So.......I am sitting in a very large leather chair and waiting for more emails to save. Please tell me how you loved/hated this work so far. I love you all to itty bitty pieces. - S xx]
@Suman98
Can you please MAKE another one I LOVE THIS STORY
9/30/14