HIRED GUN // H.S AU

fifty-two

AMARA

The water was scorching, but not in an awful way that would make you flinch back and yelp when making contact with it. It burnt my skin in a painless, pleasing way that allowed my muscles to relax in consolation. My parents always wondered why the hot water always ran out by the evening, but they never took notice to my crimson stained skin hours after my showers.

The letters written on the dull paper that looked like no effort had been put in writing it had been replaying in my mind for hours. It seemed surreal, I was frozen, void of all emotion on the outside. On the inside I was screaming, in pain, anger, frustration, confusion, hurt. I wanted to let the tears that had been concealed in my eyes out, but I was motionless.

You are formally invited to join us in celebrating the life of Victor Svenson, a loving husband, brother, father and friend. Friday, June 4th 2015, 10am. Southern Cemetary, Manchester.

The boys didn't know what to do, but they were the least of my worries. They took turns reading the paper while I sat still with Harry attempting to comfort me. I took off when his skin made contact with mine, guilt washing over me. I felt guilty for being so focussed on Harry and all things, other than my dad. I darted up the stairs when Harry opened his mouth, locking the bedroom door behind me. Harry had tried persuading me to let him in, but he gave up when Louis told him I probably needed space for a bit.

"Ara? You've been in there for almost an hour, can you just let me know you're okay?" Harry spoke through the bathroom door, his voice muffled by the water splashing onto the tiles and down my face. I tried opening my mouth, making a sound, anything, but I couldn't. I felt broken. My fingers had crinkled up by now, my skin raw as the water continued to run down my body.

"Ara, I will come in there if you don't reply. I don't care if you don't have clothes on," Harry's voice sounded panicked when he spoke, and I felt guilt rise at the fact that I was making him worry as well. My eyes stayed locked on the shower wall when the door opened, Harry's body entering and closing it behind him.

"Ara," Harry sighed when his eyes landed on me, cautiously walking up to the shower door. I saw him pull his shirt off from the corner of my eye, his jeans following after. My head finally moved to look at him when his fingers hit the waistband of his boxers, surprise evident on his face.

"You want them on?" Harry motioned to his boxers. I didn't respond, but he seemed to understand as his hands left the band, leaving the piece of clothing on. His boxers transformed into a darker grey when he joined me in the shower, a hiss falling from his lips at the boiling water.

The water clearly disturbed him, but he ignored it as he stood behind me, placing a kiss on top of my wet scalp. I felt my eyes follow his arm as it reached in front of us, grabbing hold of the pink shampoo bottle. My eyes closed when his hands pushed the product into my hair, his fingers kneading my scalp. I felt a tear slip out of my eye as he washed the shampoo out of my hair, grabbing the conditioner bottle. The water masked my tears, Harry's hands rubbing the conditioner through the ends of my hair as they fell.

His fingers stopped moving when I let a sob escape my lips, turning my body around to face him. His face fell as he noticed my tears, grabbing me by my shoulders to press our bodies together. My cheek pressed into his chest as sobs wracked my body, feeling my knees buckle as all my emotions finally flooded out. Harry's arms fell to my lower back, holding my body up as I leaned on him. Harry whispered reassuring words into my ear as I broke down, kissing my cheek repeatedly.

"It hurts," I cried out, my forehead lying on his shoulder. His wet curls hit my face as I wailed, not having the energy to push them away.

"I know. I know, baby," Harry murmured, his fingers tracing my back. He loosened his arms after a couple minutes, my body gaining energy to hold myself up. I sniffled as Harry climbed out of the shower, wrapping a white towel around my frame. His hands patted the towel over my body, wringing out my hair so it wasn't soaking. I grabbed his shoulders as he slid my underwear up my legs, allowing him to dress me in his black t-shirt he had thrown before getting in the shower.

A towel was wrapped around his torso before he guided us back to the bedroom, getting changed while I dug myself under the bed sheets. Harry joined me not too long after, his arm pulling me flush against his chest. I felt tears run down my face as I drifted off, Harry's arms tightening when he felt the tears hit his chest.

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I wasn't surprised when I woke up with a scratchy, dry throat and bloodshot eyes, still feeling tired. My arms reached for Harry's side when I didn't feel the heat of his chest against my back, my eyes opening when all I felt were cold sheets. I relaxed when I heard his voice from downstairs, Zayn and Louis' voices echoing through the small house as well. I pulled my body from the sheets, slipping on a pair of Harry's sweatpants he'd kicked off in the middle of the night. I was silent as I walked down the stairs, the boys' voices becoming clearer.

"We're not going to the fucking funeral, it's a trap," I halted my movements when Harry's rough voice spoke, dropping my mouth at his words. How dare he? This is my fathers funeral and he's stupid if he thinks I'm not going.

"Harry, she has to go. It's her father."

"She will end up dead, this is a huge trap," Harry hissed back, the sound of a glass slamming onto the bench echoing through the kitchen.

"If she doesn't go, she'll die on the inside," Louis fought back, making my presence known before the conversation went any further.

"I'm going to the funeral. Don't even try telling me otherwise," I shocked the boys by walking past them, pouring coffee into a soup mug. I brought the large mug to my lips, allowing the bitter taste run down my throat.

"You're going to get hurt," Harry muttered, running his hands down his face. I glared at him, wondering why he was acting stressed. His father didn't just die.

"I've been through more hurt these past few months than I have in my whole life, a little more won't hurt."