Deranged

Chapter Sixteen

Hey, hey, hey, shhh, hey, shhh; calm down, calm down. There's nothing to be all whiny over, ok? This story is fiction, F-I-C-T-I-O-N, alright? Here is the definition if you are having trouble understanding what Fiction means - short stories and novels, that describes IMAGINARY events.

^ that's for the people who commented, "OMG IT KILLED NIALL?! So not reading this book anymore." Grow a pair (of vegetables) and stop crying over something that didn't happen in real life. If it makes you feel any f*cking better, then pretend he escaped. Got it? Get it? Good. Sorry to those who didn't do a thing; they just pissed me the cheese doodle off.
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Carter's Point of View

"That was cruel. Tricking him like that," I whispered, staring at the back of Harry. He didn't respond for a while; he stood silent.

"I only scared him," He finally spoke up. "He ran towards his own death."

"What makes you think of things such as that? Scaring him. . . Literally to death," I managed to say without breaking out into pathetic sobs.

"Oh, for fucks sake, Carter!" His voice boomed, quickly silencing me. He slowly turned around and took a few strides toward me. "You didn't even know the man."

"Neither did you," I shock back. "And that doesn't give you the right to just kill someone you see in sight."

"I have my reasons," He stated through his gritted teeth. "Reasons you wouldn't understand."

"I would if you told me," I said, softly. I was in no doubt shaken up from what happened and at any minute, I was going to break down. Seeing such an innocent human who had a real future, unexpectedly die in a dark tunnel isn't how most people would actually expect their death to be.

"The things that are deep in my mind, they aren't all that pretty," He told me.

"Then let me in on the deep thoughts. We've got all this time," I said, trying-half not-to add humor to the end, but it really wasn't funny considering where we were and what I had just saw. Don't cry, Carter. Don't cry. I heard a laugh erupt through silence and I had to glance up at Harry to realize it was actually him who laughed. It wasn't at all an evil laugh, though.

But, as soon as he smiled, it quickly disappeared and his hard face had shown just like always. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Harry, it's ok to-"

"No. It isn't ok," He cut me off, his eyelids shielding me from his dark eyes. In the corner of my eye, I saw a small patch of fire growing on the wall, and I immediately knew he was mad yet upset at the same time. "None of this is ok."

"I know that. But-"

"You shouldn't have to see this."

"You shouldn't either," I whispered, looking down.

"You don't fucking understand, Carter," He growled. "I deserve this. After what I had done." I had a feeling he was reliving the terror in his mind.

"How long has it been?" I quietly asked. He let out a long sigh.

Aunt Bea's Diner, January 2, 2014

[No Point of View - Flashback to how Harry got into the Asylum]

"Hey, Harry? Can you clean up and lock the diner? Aunt Bea is at home and she's more ill than ever," Paul stated, grabbing his house keys after he had pulled on his coat.

"Sure thing, Paul," Harry replied, a little weary about locking up the diner. "Tell Aunt Bea that I miss her and I hope she gets well," He added before Paul could walk out of the empty diner.