BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Twenty-Eight

TW: talk of death, and self harm

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Chapter song:

Shared Trauma by Pierce The Veil

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Katie and I slowly walk side-by-side down the hallway to my flat, the silence between us thick enough to reach out and touch. When I asked her where she wanted me to take her as we were leaving Jay's, she suggested we go back to mine, and I reluctantly agreed. I think she just doesn't want to be alone.

We reach my door, and I quickly unlock it and step inside, kicking my shoes off and shuffling towards the couch. Katie follows close behind me, shutting the door and locking it once we're both inside. I reach into my back pocket, pulling out the money Jay gave me, and quickly count it; my eyes widen as I count out a thousand dollars.

Holy shit.

I turn around to see Katie standing uncomfortably just a few feet away from me, rubbing her arm and staring down at her feet. I sigh heavily, and pull five hundred dollars out of the stack, holding it out towards her. She looks up at me with furrowed brows, then down at money in my hand.

"What?" She questions, her attention flicking between the money and my eyes.

"Take it," I say, taking a few steps towards her. "This is just as much yours as it is mine."

Her lips part, and she quickly shakes her head. "No," she scoffs. "I don't want it."

"Why not?" I ask, my eyes widening.

"It's dirty money, Harry," she states, crossing her arms in front of her. "I don't want any part of that."

I roll my eyes at her, shaking my head in frustration. "Christ, just take it," I huff, shoving my hand in front of her with a little more force. "It's your money too, you're a part of this now."

"God, stop saying that!" She shouts, bringing her hands up to rub her temples. "I'm not a part of whatever the fuck this is. I was forced into it, so stop making it seem like this is some fun group project. I'm fucking drowning, Harry!"

My hand drops to my side, and I purse my lips, taking a deep breath. I watch as her body trembles, I'm sure from a mix of fear and exhaustion, and I turn around to toss the money onto the coffee table.

I don't have the energy to fight with her tonight.

"Come sit down," I tell her, taking a seat in the middle of the couch and patting the spot beside me. She stands there and stares at me, like she's not sure how to respond. "Please."