Ⓚ Ranked #1 Book in EggsyXOC, #2 Book in KingsmanSecretService, and #5 Book in Eggsy Ⓚ
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"Just one lesson's all it takes. I'm a fast learner," Eggsy then replies with a quick wink.
"Is that so? It's a great asset to be a fast learner, but can yo...
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FOURTEEN.
SILENT UNDERSTANDING
— Ⓚ —
GARY "EGGSY" UNWIN
It was a strange feeling I must say, one I have never truly experienced before. It was like I can see and hear everything around me, but I can't feel anything. I was experiencing everything, but it was like I was watching it on a screen. I hardly feel like I can even breath as I sit there like a zombie.
"It wasn't real. It wasn't real," I muttered unconvincingly to myself.
Harry was dead.
I felt sick just sitting in the room with all of his newspaper cover pages glaring back at me. Heck, I felt sick just being in the house. Harry's own son was only asleep a few doors down from me and have no idea he would be waking up an orphan.
"It wasn't real," I beg, still staring at the laptop screen.
Harry was dead.
Something was rising inside me, a hungry numbness that spread through my chest. The blood roar in my ears suffocated everything else out. I slammed the computer shut, not bearing the empty sky that was left there for me to stare at. I was collapsing, blown to pieces, and I can't even feel it.
The room plagued my nose with scents of Harry covering the room. It was intoxicating.
I slowly stood up, like a puppet, I succumbed to the unknown strings that guided me down the stairs and then taking me to the dining room where I collapsed in Harry's typical chair at the head of the table. I find myself collapsing against the edge of the table with the wood burying itself in my ribcage, but I don't feel the pain. There was only one thing on my mind.
Harry was dead.
I stand up, walking over to the glass cabinet across from me, filled with glass decanters of amber liquid. With a trembling hand, I took one out and poured me a glass. The alcohol sloshed from side to side inside the glass as my shaking hand raised it, gulping down the burning liquid before pouring another.
I don't even hear the quiet pitter-patter of Chef's paws as he waltzes into the dining room, staring at me from the doorframe. His intelligent ears perked up at me in silence as he watches me, no doubt questioning what I was doing. I don't know what to do. Chef's not my dog, and I'm not to sure he'd understand a word I say considering I'm not a member of the family.
"Harry's dead," I find myself muttering, swirling the whisky in the glass and watch as Chef's ears twitch at the sound of my voice.
The border collie soundlessly continues his unrelenting gaze on me before, without a sound, he trots over to me and gently lays his head on my lap. A sigh escapes my lips and my head feels heavy as I bring the glass back to my lips. "Shot in cold blood," I explain, taking another large gulp of alcohol while gently petting Chef's head as he pears up at me with what inexplicably appears to be understanding eyes.
