Unstable (Sequel to Twisted)

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

"She looks like me."

I was channeling through the TV channels, not finding anything that greatly interested me until I heard Harry speak from behind. The house was mainly empty; Gemma at work again, though she told us she would be back earlier than usual. I think Zayn was off taking a nap; everyone else was out in the back porch.

I could smell the food from the barbeque wafting into the house; Niall fired Gemma's barbeque pit up-claiming he knew how to use one, and everyone was outside to enjoy the rare sunlight Cheshire was receiving for the day. I was out there a while ago, but decided to come inside to take a quick shower. My hair as of right now was still a bit damp, but it was nearly dry.

"What?" I asked, muting the TV to sit up a little and peer over the back of the couch. Harry was dressed in simple attire-wearing mostly black, which was the color I learned that he typically wore. He was gazing out the see-through door outside with a thoughtful expression, his hands shoved limply in his front pockets.

"Lottie," Harry said. "She looks like me."

"Well, she is your niece." I replied. It was strange, uncanny almost to think that Harry was an uncle. But the truth couldn't evade us-we all knew that Gemma was his sister; they both shared the same mother. I did not know if they shared the same father, but the bloodlines were evident in their common mother. Gemma actually didn't look a lot like Harry; instead of brown, curly hair, she had long, blonde wavy hair, though I think she dyed it blonde because I could see brown roots growing in now, becoming more evident. She did have one dimple, but it was much smaller than Harry's. And her eyes were a light brown-not a deep emerald color.

Now Lottie, on the other hand, looked a lot like Harry.

They both had the brown, curly hair and the green eyes. And Lottie broke out in two adorably big dimples when she smiled, which seemed to light her entire childish face.

"My niece." Harry repeated quietly. "I have a niece."

"You have a sister." I added, getting off the couch. He was staring at the ground now, biting on the inside of his cheek.

"I just don't understand," Harry mumbled. "My mom left because she had to-and my dad told me she died. She couldn't have died if she had Gemma, right?" He glanced at me, evidently confused by the misplaced facts. There were holes all in his father's theory.

But I could easily see the truth.

"Daryl lied to you." I told him softly. "He told you that so you probably wouldn't try to find your mom."

Harry's face darkened instantly at the mentioning of his father's name, "Yeah. That sounds like something he'd do."

"Isn't it great though?" I asked, reaching out to grab his hand, pulling it from his pocket. His emerald eyes gazed at my fingers, much paler than thinner than his, intertwining together with his. I clasped onto him firmly, waiting until he met my eye again. "You have a family, Harry." I smiled at him-he had no idea how important family was.

To me, I learned how important family was. I haven't spoken to my parents in a few years-ever since I left the United States to "see the world." They told me that I would be nothing to them if I left, since they wanted me to go to college to go into law school or the medical field. I purposely disobeyed their plans, intending on going out and seeing what I could see. To them, that was the ultimate disgrace, since they spent so many years trying to prepare me for something I never even wanted to do.

And I couldn't lie to myself and say I hated my parents. I couldn't lie and say I didn't miss them. They weren't the kindest or warmest people-they were at times detached and cold, but they loved me nonetheless. They were probably afraid that I would lose myself, running off on my own. But they still didn't have to tell me that I meant nothing to them...