Chapter 37

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Harry avoided me the next day, and I can't say I did much to stop him. Last night was intense. By far the worst show case of Harry's problems that I've seen. So far. My body tensed up thinking about it as I sat on the couch in the living room, flicking back and forth between channels. I tried to push the thoughts to the back of my head, hoping they would respectfully stay there and give me a few moments of peace. But with no mercy, they came forth once again, dragging me back into the dark. The images were repetitive, how his eyes grew black and foreign as he spoke to something nonexistent. And how he crumpled to the floor, out of complete exhaustion and terror.

I thanked the lord that no one was present at the house to see me cry. The boys had gone off to meet with management, they hadn't given much details, except that "it was urgent and couldn't wait". Lauren's grandmother had come into town and she had left to go visit. I almost asked to come with. I was familiar with Lauren's grandma, Lauren and I used to go spend weeks during the summer with her up in Oklahoma. She was a cheerful lady and contrary to the expectations of a grandma, I could never consider her one. For one, she wasn't that old, mid sixties at most, and she was spunky. Her constant humor and remarks never ceased to make me laugh. Not only that, but she was constantly on the go. She and her husband, Lauren's step-grandpa, were constantly traveling. Despite their over extravagant house in the city, they never stayed there for more than a week every couple months. I figured that you're never short of money to blow when you own your own tax company.

But visiting wasn't the only reason I wanted to tag along. Quite frankly, I just didn't want to be left alone. As much as my stubborn self hates to admit it, I didn't trust myself. I'm aware that I'm not the most stable person, and I know that at a time like this I shouldn't be let onto my own devices. Not when these thoughts keep seeping into my conscious. I just need to keep myself occupied. 

I decided to head to my room, as I can't make any harm if I'm asleep correct? But after multiple failed attempts at a nap, I quit. Sitting up frustrated, I peered around the room. It was a mess. Dirty clothes were strewn across the floor, and I could see an even bigger pile wadded up in the closet. Cleaning could keep me busy. I had a tendency for not being able to stop cleaning once I started. I began by dragging my hamper around the room, holding it with one hand and tossing clothes in with the other. Once the general area was clear I moved onto the closet. The hamper still in tow behind me, I propped it up in the doorway, cringing at the sight in front of me. Shoes were tossed amongst the shelves and floor, heaps of clothing and belts topping off the disaster of a closet. Sorting the clothes into two piles, clean and dirty, I heaved the dirty pile into the hamper, then pushed it out of the way.

The house was too quiet as I hung up the clean clothes. I quickly padded across the room, tuning on the radio, hoping it would drown out the silence. I proceeded with my clean up, hanging the belts and organizing the shoes into pairs, stopping when I came across my pair of black converse. I reached for one of the shoes, my conscious warning me as I peered inside. No no no no no. It continued as I pulled out the crumpled paper once again. Don't open it. But this time, I listened. I didn't open it. I couldn't find it in me to open it. Instead, I placed the shoe neatly back on the floor, the paper still in my hand. Walking into the hallway, I hesitantly opened Harry's door. I don't know why I was so quiet about it, no one was home after all.

Stepping in, I left the door open behind me, I would feel uncomfortable if it was closed. If the boys returned and I wasn't aware, I could come face to face with Harry. Who wouldn't be so happy after he found out that I was the one that took his drawing in the first place. He had seemed so protective over it when he assumed that Louis had taken it, if he knew that I saw it, the person that the picture was of, I can't imagine his reaction. Shuddering at the thought, I walked over to his desk, flicking on the lamp and taking a seat. I smoothed the paper out on the flat desktop in front of me, doing my best not to concentrate on it before sticking it under the stack of papers on his desk. Maybe he'd find it and think he had just misplaced it, and no one had taken it at all. 

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