Murder Mystery - H.S

51

Harry.

I sat there, amidst the silence of the house, engulfed in an overwhelming tide of anxiety. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo accusations, each corner held shadows that whispered blame.

My mind was a tumultuous storm of guilt and sorrow, tangled in a web of relentless self-blame. Receiving Niall's head in a box haunted me, the events in the house haunting me every waking moment.

Even if I tried to deny it, even if I've done similar things to others before, nothing could erase the horrific sight of my friend's fate—my wife witnessing it only added to the torment. The fury boiled inside me, furious that someone would dare to target my family.

Every horrifying scenario replayed in my mind, each one ending with the haunting conclusion: it was all my fault. When I find this person, I swear I'll tear them apart, no mercy. I'll kill them with my bare hands.

"Hey, baby, I'm done," I called out, tossing extra pillows on the bed.

Not hearing her voice I grumbled under my breath. " By the way, is the house too cold? I can turn on the heater a little more—" making my way into the empty living room I frowned.

What the fuck

"Juliet!" I called out with escalating concern, my voice quivering slightly as I scanned the rooms and noticed the slightly ajar backyard door. Panic surged within me, cursing silently as I hastily pushed the door wider and peered outside.

"Baby?" I called out anxiously, my heart racing as I searched the backyard, my eyes darting around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. The eerie quietness of the night only amplified my growing unease, each passing second intensifying the dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.

It was so dark I couldn't see a single thing, just trees and trees and another box and I swear I felt my breath get caught in my throat. I looked around my surroundings, grabbing the gun from my waistband and cocking it. " Juliet." I yelled even louder being met with silence. " Fuck." I ran my free hand over my hair and grabbed the box shutting the door behind me. " Fuck. Fuck."

I couldn't go out and look for her leaving my daughters alone, I couldn't wake them up.

Grabbing my phone from my pockets I dialed her number. A few minutes go by, the purse near me lighting up, and a familiar ringtone echoing around:

Fucking hell Juliet

Dialing another number I silently prayed she was just wandering off. In the midst of the chilling silence, Zayn's voice crackled through the phone. His words sliced through the air like shards of ice, sending shivers down my spine. "Harry? What the hell do you want?" Zayn's voice crackled through the phone. " It's two am."

Ripping the box I expected exactly what I was thinking and anger flew in me as I witnessed a pair of hands laying inside the box. I didn't have time to think too much about who the hand belonged to, why it was here but it held a sinister note one that made my blood boil, one that brought every worry out of me and made me think of every bad scenario.

I give you his body, and I get to have her.

" Fuck" my hand pounding against the countertop, a loud sound echoing around the quiet, lonely house.  "Fuck."

" Harry?" Zayn says again. " What's wrong?" I shake my head biting my inner cheeks till a sharp metal taste rested on my tongue.

"Juliet," the name escaped my lips, sounding surreal. It was baffling—moments ago, she had been in my arms, and now she was nowhere to be found. Fatigue drained from my body, replaced by a growing sense of unease. As my gaze lingered on the box, I noticed its contents: a pack of cigarettes, a lighter—Juliet's pink lighter—and a bottle.