𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞┃ Anthony Lockwood┃2┃

Chapter Thirty Three - Missing

Yes. Lockwood stood there. At her door.

And all Nola could think about was the day that she left, and left him, four months ago.

"What in God's name do you mean you're resigning?" Lockwood hissed.

After Nola's dramatic speech at the dining table, and George had mournfully pushed away his large slab of cake, she had sloped away to the attic in order to pack her bag. Lockwood, however, had followed closely behind her.

"I mean I'm resigning, Lockwood." Nola said quietly, pulling the old dresser drawers open and unfolding her clothes. Of course, they were perfectly neat and square; it was obvious that Holly had been about.

He stared at her; eyes wide, lips parted, worry line deep set within his forehead. "Stop it. Stop with the clothes. You don't have to do this."

Nola could feel a spinning sense of nausea in her stomach, which felt as though it had dropped all the way to the floor. The guilt and agony was eating her alive. "I do have to do this. I am a liability, I can't control my Talent right now, and me being here puts you all at risk. I won't allow that to happen." She said quickly.

Lockwood did not know about what Nola saw in the Room of Bones at Aickmere's. He didn't know that the reason behind her departure was a prophecy-telling ghost that highlighted his death caused by her, nor did Nola need him to know that.

"James, if you leave, then I can't protect you. Where are you even going to go?" Lockwood's tone and expression were pleading. His voice soon grew quiet, however. "What about your mum?"

Nola stopped unfolding. Her shoulders stiffened, and her jaw clenched tightly. "What about her?"

"What if she finds you?"

The girl's head shook, a lump forming in the pit of her throat. Her skin felt as though it was fizzing and her fingers were strangely numb. "She won't find me."

"Phillips did."

The room was suddenly silent. The gloomy rain pattered against the small attic window, the one that was covered with the checked curtain.

Lockwood cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like me bringing him up, but it's true. What would've happened that night if we weren't there? You were so frightened."

Nola knew that Lockwood was right, as usual. But, her mind was made up. After all, she was doing what she was doing for his good. "It won't happen. She won't find me. But, if she does, I'll sort it. She's my mother at the end of the day. I dealt with her for 16 years, I'm sure I could manage."

"James, please. Think about this." Lockwood said, his dark eyes glinting with sadness.

Nola stopped unfolding once again, and looked at Lockwood properly for the first time since her announcement. Her eyes grazed over his pale skin, his hollowed cheeks, his dark under eyes and his unruly hair that was flopped over his bruised forehead. She swallowed, only feeling the crippling grasp around her heart squeeze tighter. She began twisting the pearl ring around her finger. "I have thought about it, Lockwood. I'm sorry."

Lockwood's sleeping schedule had always been awful. Working nights didn't help, of course, but at least he slept a little bit every day. After Nola left, that went out of the window. He barely ever slept. Instead, he laid in the bed that he once shared with her, staring blankly at the ceiling, remembering every detail about the girl. The raven hair, the messy fringe, the green eyes that were always wide and wondering, the full lips that were always shiny and appealing. Instead of sleeping, he replayed the day she left; over and over in his head, every night, without fail. The day she left him in the attic, all alone. He felt isolated, even betrayed. Because yes, she had betrayed him. She made him think that she would never leave, and then she did just that. Nola stepping foot through the doorway of 35 Portland Row saved Lockwood in ways that he could never even admit to himself, let alone her. He was so tightly-wound and buttoned up about how he was feeling, he had let her slip through his fingers.

Nola wasn't exactly in a better position. After she left, she became more anxious and paranoid than ever before. On the rare occasion that she laid in bed not thinking about Anthony Lockwood, she thought about her shadowed past. About Phillips' torture and abuse; about the fact he was a raging sociopath who craved power and authority; about the scalpels and knives and drills that waited for her every morning at Mellingcamp. And when that was over, she thought about her mother. About the drinking, the smoking, the variety of boyfriends who were in-and-out of the door; about the sharp sting she felt on her cheek after her mother struck her; about the father that she never had, nor had ever even heard of. She thought about the fact that she was only a kid, and she had been through more than she had ever deserved. She was overworked, underpaid and lacking sleep, but she always pushed that her new job was just peachy. She was fine on her own, she said. She was fine...

George struggled after her departure, but said nothing. Whilst he and Nola had lived under the same roof, he had never really expressed how fond of her he actually was. Yes, they bickered all day every day. Yes, they knew just how to wind each other up, and had fun doing it. And yes, it was him who had been stealing the chocolate biscuits out of Nola's desk drawer and blaming it on Lockwood, but he really did like her. They liked each other. They were like siblings who loved and hated each other all at the same time. And, he really did miss her. His relationship with Holly wasn't the same as the one he had with Nola. He couldn't wind Holly up properly, because she would never retaliate the same way that Nola would have. They couldn't slob out together, watching a movie with a plate stacked high of crisp sandwiches, because Holly would spend the whole time cleaning up. Things just weren't the same for George after Nola left...

Even Holly herself felt off. She and Nola had had their differences, and plenty of them, but Holly felt a small void in Portland Row after Nola had left four months ago. Neither Lockwood nor George made the same sarcastic comments or rolled their eyes the same way in which Nola had. Nola had a certain way of talking, with her Northern accent and her tiny snorts she let out at her own witty remarks. Her words were often said so fast because she was so excited and her brain moved so quickly and she wanted to get it all out before she forgot what she meant to say. Holly had always noticed that, and now it wasn't there to notice.

Lockwood & Co carried on as normal, working cases and tackling Visitors of all varieties. Everyone resumed their normal, daily activities, but they all knew that something was missing at Portland Row.

Nola carried on as normal too, venturing out into the darkness and combating the Problem on her own. She survived in her dinky little flat with the Skull as her only company, but she too knew that she was missing Portland Row more than anything.