Mal's Little Sister (Harry Hook)

Chapter Thirty-Four - Redemption?

Pulling away for crucial mouthfuls of oxygen, I softly leant my forehead against his before slowly, timidly opening my eyes as I noticed he was peering back at me.
My voice appeared faint and muted, "What are we doing?" I knew that I couldn't do this, it wouldn't work.
"What do you mean?" He croaked, voice equally quiet and husky, pain evident in his tone.
"Everyone hates me now. If we're seen together any more it'll ruin your reputation, Harry. Uma will never let us happen" I explained, hauling my body from the bed where he is situated still.
He attempted to push his body up to follow me but swiftly paused his movement, groaning in pain as he strained his wound. I hated to see him like this, I just wanted to wrap my arms around him, just to hold each other until duty called, but I would only drag him down with me. I need to fix this alone. No Jacob, no Quinn... No Harry.

"I love you, I will mend this Har. But it has to be alone. I have to repair the broken ties with Uma and build my reputation but if you help me it will only cause you more pain." And with that, I took my retreat once more, and with a final, heartbroken glance at Harry, I pulled the door shut behind me.

The bright morning hues shone through the thick, dismal clouds that coated the isle's lower atmosphere as I began my retreat from the docks but I wasn't entirely sure where I was to venture next. I still retain my rooftop hideout of which I used to shield my delicate body from the horrors of the isle when I was younger, it helped to be outside, away from my family, as I soon grew to love the dismal skies, the grime-coated pathways and even the used-to-be killers that now roam the streets powerlessly. But the rooftop seemed too dismal for attempting to recover a reputation as intimidating and ruthless as it once was, it'd seem as if I was still the inexperienced failed protege of my mother's wishful design.

Skillfully, I reached a strong, stable hand out as I grabbed ahold of an old and rusted wire fence and pulled my body from the ground. I swiftly sprung my right foot to the top of the oxidated iron bar and carefully stood up, reaching out to the top of the doorframe of an old and bug-eaten fire escape as I leapt, grasping onto the rotting wood before I could finally swing my body onto the gravelled rooftop above it.

If my memory does not falter, I vaguely recall a hideout of my sister's gang atop of a narrow pathway of stalls and homes just following the straight track from the docks and terminating into one of the largest marketplaces on this isle.

I continued across the fragmented cobblestone rooftop, attempting to shield my chilled body from the icy morning winds with the worn, black leather jacket gifted to me from Quinn whilst my newly dyed hair blew back at me in the open breeze.

Once I reached where the rooftop sloped towards the ground, where the fragile, weathered brick had collapsed leaving me a straight pathway towards the mudden track across the ground. Attempting to avoid commoner's eyes, I stalked around the corner of a vendors stall and clasping my hand around an icy, rusted black metal beam. I looked above me where a fractured, swaying, hand-me-down steel staircase slowly spiralled towards the rooftops. However, a heavy gate guarded the bottom of the staircase, disallowing me to enter.

Caustionally, I turned my body to check around me, making sure that there wasn't anybody watching my next move as I grabbed a heavy, fist-sized rock in my right palm and carefully hurled it towards a thin, damaged hexagonal sign stating 'caution: flying rocks.' This caused the sign to smack backwards on its temperamental hinges and into the fractured brick wall behind it. The force of the small action allowed the gate to swiftly lift from the ground and gave me a straight passage up to the hideout.

The warehouse was barren and dusty after being abandoned for so long; commoners and VK's still too intimidated to invade it. Incessant designs filled the once-fractured walls, vibrant depictions of my sister's gang with their beloved expression 'Long Live Evil'. I scoff, rolling my eyes at how ironic it seems now they have departed off to Auradon and forgotten their wicked roots. Ambling across the room to the furthest heavily graffitied wall; I noticed a particular drawing that was allocated to the centre of the wall, surrounded by the maleficent emerald green and deep purple signature; was a portrait of my sister and I as if she was once proud of who we were.

"That's a first" I scoffed once more, maybe she used care about me but I think that it is safe to say that she doesn't anymore- at least not after I put my cutlass to her throat. Taking a step towards the accented wall I noticed the cans of spray paint littered around underneath it, half empty and abandoned. I bent my body down, leaning my weight on my scraped and scuffed knees as I grasped a leaking, blood red can of paint.

I could feel my heartbeat steadily rise and my muscles tense, she doesn't deserve this, she doesn't deserve anything. Why should she be the talk of the isle? Why should she be the most envied of the Maleficent household? Before I could even comprehend what I was doing, I took a slight step back from the wall, reaching forwards as I launched the pressurized metal at the portrait and watched the shining paint trickle onto the tiled floor and released the pent up anger I hold within me.

This will be the turning point. I will work my way back up from the bottom once more so that I can be with the one I love. I wish that wasn't how it was but it is the isle after all.

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So sorry this took me so long but I'm feeling so unmotivated and uninspired, this extra long summer holiday is killing me! (Not something I thought I'd ever say)
Some of you guys' amazing ideas for the book would be perfect to get me back in the string of things x
Apologies once more, thank you for being the most inspiring and creative readers!

-Anon x