The Last of Us

Thirty-Four

I stay in my room for the next few days other than when necessary. I haven't left the house, though, not since the explosive events at the police station.

Since then, Chaplin has gone completely silent on any updates. He used to give me even the most minor bits of information, likely to make me feel at ease. Now it's as though he doesn't care after the way I'd spoken to him.

So be it. He wasn't exactly helping me out lately. My theory about Danni being involved had been wrong, but that didn't make it any less hurtful when he didn't believe me. Besides, the lead still would have helped him. It would have made him aware that Danni was also receiving the emails.

I stare across the room at my bookshelf, where a framed photo of my father and me stands. Mum got many photos printed out right after he died as if it would keep him alive somehow. I don't think she realised how much harder it was for me when I saw his face in every room.

I don't stare at the photo in gut-wrenching pain anymore, though. It's more that I miss him, but I've also grown used to his absence now.

I don't check my phone, although I feel the millennial pull to reach out for it. Anyone who denies the addiction of our youngest generations is a liar.

I know I'll find a million and one messages from Ben checking in. There might be a few from Danni trying to persuade me to tell the others girls. I have yet to speak to her about Paige. Her name hasn't been released to the public, so she may not even know.

A sick feeling fills my stomach. We are being plucked off one by one. There is still so much I want to ask about the motive. Is his plan to eliminate all finals girls as a way to upstand some sick fulfilment?

Someone knocks at my door, and I groan softly into my pillow. Mum hasn't left me alone for more than a few hours since she found out about Paige. I hadn't wanted to tell her, but Ben had helped me walk inside. He'd explained everything that happened at the police station.

Since then, she's been urging me more than ever to give up the support group and focus my energy elsewhere. I don't think she will ever understand the issue I have with doing something half-hearted. I'm not just going to leave now after everything that has happened.

"Harlow," she calls, opening the door.

"I don't need anything," I say, before adding under my breath, "after you asked me ten minutes ago."

"Your boyfriend is here," she says with a giant grin that really isn't appropriate for my current state of mind.

I should tell her Ben isn't my boyfriend, but I cannot be bothered with that conversation right now, despite how badly I'd love to wipe the annoying smile from her face today.

It's not that I don't like seeing her happy; I just feel like being left alone right now. Her thinking that a boy could help with my headspace is why I've never brought anyone home.

"I—"

Before I tell her I don't feel like seeing anyone right now, Ben steps out from behind her. He offers me a thin smile, indicating that he likely knows I'm not in the best mood right now.

Why did he come, then? If he's acting aware, it should only be more of an indication that he shouldn't have come by.

Mum shuts the door behind us, winking as she closes it. I roll my eyes, sitting up in bed as Ben sits at my desk.

"So," he begins, clearing his throat. "How are you feeling since the station?"

"Just grand," I said deadpan. "Over the moon that yet another girl is dead, and the police have next to no leads."