After the End: Book 4

26. Need To Be

Louis POV

Cory didn't have much she wanted to do before she went. I offered up any accommodation she could think of, but in the end, all she wanted was to go home to retrieve a bag of clothes. She didn't even care about her car. She was just going to leave it at Ash's house and consider it a lost cause. She didn't want to talk about her impending destination of rehab. She didn't want to talk about the fact that she'd been in active addiction for over a decade, or the fact that she had no life plans for what would happen next. She definitely didn't want to talk about why she'd changed her mind on Monday. She just wanted her bag of clothes.

After breakfast, I gave her a pair of Harry's sweats and a T-shirt to change into. She seemed to feel more comfortable in clean clothes. Then we set off to her place to retrieve the bag. According to her, it was still packed from her original plans on Monday so the retrieval would be quick.

When we arrived she hesitated and then verbally decided that she didn't want to go into the house. She stared out the window for a long moment and then chuckled to herself and said, "It's all you Tomlinson. You'll lose me if I go in there."

Up until that point, she'd not talked much since telling me she didn't want to argue at breakfast. I was taking the silence as nervous anticipation, and I was beginning to think I'd estimated her mindset correctly. Her tone had definitely indicated that.

"Where is it?" I agreed immediately.

She gave me instructions to her bedroom, where I'd find it at the foot of the bed, and informed me that the door was unlocked. When I questioned that she said, "I live in the middle of nowhere and you've seen my house. I don't exactly have precious possessions."

Inside the home was just as cold and empty as it had been on my last visit. The window had been left open and it seemed almost hotter inside the house than it did outside. It was messier than I had realized the other night, with clutter taking up most surfaces. I couldn't imagine how Harry handled hanging out around that. I also couldn't fathom how Cory could come back there afterwards and thrive as a sober person. The place was so cluttered and yet so insufferably empty.

The only room that seemed clean was the bedroom. When I stepped in there, I found the bed hastily made and the surfaces mostly clear of any mess. The bag was sitting atop the foot of the sheets, just as she told me it would be.

I grabbed it and then turned to exit the same way I'd come before pausing in the doorway. I truly couldn't help the controlling nature of my thoughts. I turned back around, set the bag back on the bed and then unzipped it. I felt a moral obligation to check its contents before continuing. It would have been naive of me to not check.

Amongst her clothes was a worn copy of the novel, 1984, a book of matches, some cigarettes, and a handful of individually wrapped grape suckers. There were no torn out seams. In the front pocket, slipped in deliberately was a 4x6 copy of the only photograph of Cory and Harry's baby together. Alongside it, was a Polaroid photo of the two of them standing on a beach. The palm trees to the side indicated that it might have been during the Malibu trip I'd heard about. Cory was smiling at whoever was taking the photo, but Harry was looking off into the leaves of the palm trees as if he saw something important up there. His eyes looked inquisitive and sad, but the curled upturn of his lips showed someone who was trying to feel something else anyways.

I slipped the photos back where I found them, zipped up the bag, and headed back out of the house.

Cory was lounging in the passenger seat when I returned. She hadn't moved at all since I'd left. When I tossed the bag into the back seat, she'd only turned her head slightly to acknowledge the arrival. Then she'd gone back to reclining in the seat and humming a tune I'd never heard. I climbed back into the drivers seat.