Unstable (Sequel to Twisted)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"She is not your mother." Gemma was quick to say, her voice sharp and harsh. She snatched the picture frame from Harry's hands and stared down at it, her jaw clenching. "She can't be your mother."

"Why not?" Harry shot back, his voice rising as well.

"Because if she's my mother, then you're my brother." Gemma's eyes were on Harry now, set in a tight glare. "And if I did have a brother, my mum would've told me." She spoke slowly, as if talking to an infant, and I knew this was a huge mistake. Harry hated being talked to like that. "She wouldn't have kept something so big from me."

"Tell me her name."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me your mother's name." Harry repeated slowly, mocking how she spoke to him earlier. I could sense irritation in him, just by the way his shoulders looked-stiff and tense.

"Her name was Ana Cox." Gemma replied, raising an eyebrow. "Does that sound familiar?" Her voice was heavy with doubt.

"Fuck." Harry suddenly snarled under his breath, his hands tightening into dangerous fists. He let out a shaky sigh and turned around, his eyes glaring heavily at the floor. I stiffened on the couch, not knowing if I should step in or not. "Fuck."

"What?" Gemma asked. "What's wrong?"

"How old are you?" Harry asked, suddenly quiet.

"I'm 19."

"Fuck," Harry said again, and he even pinched the bridge of his nose, turning back to look at Gemma, who was staring skeptically at him.

"Will you please tell me what the hell you're trying to say?"

"That woman in the picture," Harry said, "is my mother."

"Okay, who the fuck are you?" Gemma asked, her voice shrilly again. She held the picture frame almost protectively against her chest, her eyes wide and glaring at Harry again.

"That's none of your fucking business," Harry finally had enough of her voice, and I wanted to cover my eyes when he took a step towards Gemma. But instead of just sitting there, I got on my feet and didn't hesitate to grab Harry's elbow, his attention turning from Gemma to me. I grabbed a firm hold of his elbow, running my fingers lightly down his forearm to try and calm him down. And shockingly, it worked-a little. His shoulders relaxed and he exhaled quietly, turning his attention back to Gemma. I could literally feel the overwrought muscles in his arm slacken under my comforting touch.

"I'm giving you 10 seconds to tell me who you are," Gemma said again, her voice threatening, "or I'm going to ask you to leave." She didn't look at me; her eyes were focused on Harry.

"You think I'll listen to you?"

And that was when Harry came undone.

He firmly pushed me away and towered over Gemma, who was now holding up the picture frame like it was a shield or something. Her eyes were wide and now fearful, eyeing Harry like an uncaged animal.

"You have no idea who the fuck I am." Harry snarled, his dark voice dominating the air around us. "You have no idea what I've done, or what I've went through. You have no fucking idea, do you?" He broke off in a disdainful chuckle. "Let me tell you something-that was my mother before you were even thought of, got it? So don't you stand there and demand to know who the hell I am, because I don't have to tell you anything about me."

"I-"

"-I'm not going to tell you everything about me. I don't have to prove that woman is my mother." Harry cut her off, craning his neck to stare down at her. I couldn't see his face, since his back was to me, but I could picture what it looked like.