The Black Swan | Reposted

Chapter 71 - The Killers

I think we were motionless, silent, we were frozen.

I didn't really compute what he said. Maybe it was exhaustion? I was sure of that, I hadn't slept in hours and when I had it was on the hard floor. I had gone through an intense physically demanding experience that was emotionally draining and high stress. I was surprised I wasn't falling apart and in a million pieces. I was surprised I could even stand.

He couldn't have said that name; he was out of his mind.

"What do you mean Zayn? How can you possibly assume that?"

"The height first off, he was at least... he was at least sixteen when my mom died. He would have been tall, or just tall enough. He was at the Company the morning of her murder, your mother wrote it in her journal. He never once told me that he had been there. He hates, hates your mother and despises you. He acted like he knew me... he was pushing and pushing for your mother to take the fall once he saw how we started... fucking with you." He trailed off. "He's familiar with guns, the one he has is a few models off from the one that killed my mom."

"He has a gun in there?" I whispered and he nodded. There was a very long pause.

"I'm going to kill him."

Harry threw the door open, pain washing over his face from his ribs.

"You can hardly walk!" I rushed to him after fleeing the car. "Don't go in there, don't."

"I need answers.' He screamed harshly in my face. The bags under his eyes were clear and the exhaustion riddled both of us. "I will not stop now."

"He has a gun. You have a broken rib. Even on a good day Harry, he has a fucking gun."

"Let him kill me."

He started up to the apartment and I panicked, rushing back to my car. I dug through my glove compartment, finding a spare bottle of pepper spray I bought after I was assaulted in the alley. I rushed up, seeing he took the elevator.

"Fuck." I flew up the stairs, rushing and rushing. My limbs were already drained from this grueling day. By the time I reached his floor the door was opening and I heard them speaking Zayns room.

"Where were you the morning my mom was murdered?" Harrys voice was eerily soft. "Because... Mia couldn't have done it." There was a very tense silence. "But you could have."

Zayn laughed. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your mom was being blackmailed by Mia Grace. She made her life a living hell, maybe even worse than my own mothers. You were violent. You are familiar with guns." I peered in, suddenly seeing Harry with a gun in his hand. My jaw dropped. He had picked it up from the nightstand. Harry raised the gun, his hands not even shaking. I slowly walked in.

"Did you buy this one after you shot her? Or did your mother do it? Who the fuck did it Zayn?" he screamed. "You were there at the Company. You were fucking there the morning of and you never told me." Zayn was silent. Harry clicked the safety off. "I'll kill you. You answer me."

"You won't do it."

"What do I have to lose?" he whispered eerily again. "I don't even have a family."

"H-Harry," I gently put my hand on his forearm. "Harry you need to calm down. You are jumping to conclusions. Zayns fucking insane, but you don't have enough to pin murder on him. He couldn't have been tall enough, he wasn't six foot at sixteen, he's not that tall now."

"No?" he stared at me, his brows creased, muscles flexed. "It has to be him. It has to be!" It was clear he was begging for an answer. In the frantic, pain of his eyes I saw true desperation for the want of simple truth. He only wanted to know, he wanted to know who took his best friend away. Could I blame him? Could anyone?