The Last of Us

Forty-Eight

I already know where I am before I'm fully coherent. The beeping of the machines is enough of an answer. I'd been here once before in a similar situation.

Mum sits beside the hospital bed, hands clasped under her chin, almost in prayer. She hasn't noticed that I'm awake yet; her eyes hold a faraway gaze that haunts me.

"Mum," I say softly, waiting for her eyes to meet mine.

When they do, she smiles, her lip quivering as tears gather in the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Harlow," she says quietly, reaching for my hand.

A headache blooms brightly at the forefront of my mind. Memories begin to swarm back quickly, almost too fast to comprehend.

"How long have I been out?" I whisper, my voice scratchy.

"A few hours," she says.

"Is he..."

"Dead," Mum nods. "Where he belongs."

I nod, the words swarming my brain. That can't be true. Just like that, he was gone. After everything he'd done, he just got to rest in the fucking ground. Where was the justice?

"I can't—I don't remember how he..."

I stare down at my bandaged hand, remembering how the knife had slid through my skin, poking its way out the other side. It's completely numbed now, a large amount of pain meds likely coursing through my body.

"Your boyfriend," she says, almost brightly. "Shot him."

My eyebrows pulled into a deep frown. I smooth out the lines with my fingers, processing what I've just heard.

"Not my boyfriend," I mumble. "I lied about that—also, not someone I trust. I think he knew about Matthew."

If she's surprised by the lie, she doesn't show it. Mum squeezes my hand twice, her lips twisted to the side.

"So he shot him?" Mum looks at me, perplexed. "I don't think he knew, Harlow. I really don't."

"He obviously knew enough to shoot him," I state, wincing when my skull pounds at me.

"Maybe he just saw you and didn't think twice," she counters. "Maybe he cares about you."

He'd told me that countless times, but it didn't matter now. Once I lost trust in someone, it was hard to gain that back.

"Maybe he didn't want Matthew telling me he was also involved," I retort. "Maybe he shot him to cover his own ass."

Mum sighs, shaking her head. "I saw his face, Harlow. He was distraught."

"He killed his brother," I state. "Couldn't have been too distraught."

Mum looks at me, frowning deeply. "I know you're upset, honey. You have every right to be. You know, all I want is to protect you, Harlow. The last thing I want to do is put you in harm's way. I just—maybe you should talk to him."

"Is that even possible?" I ask. "Surely he's been arrested."

Was I being unreasonable?

The anger that I felt was incomprehensible. It was utterly consuming, uncontrollable and aggressive. It is all that I can think about right now.

"Actually, he's just—"

"Here."

My head swivels towards the doorway. Ben stands in the door frame, looking downcast as he stares at me. His arms are loosely crossed over his chest as he blinks a few times, his expression completely emotionless.