XANNY ▹ Harry Bingham

POTLUCK . PT 2

mention of alcohol, mental illness, drugs, and abuse. this is a trigger warning. please do not read ahead if you'll be negatively affected.

chapter eighteen

"little girl, stop waiting for someone to come and save you"

_

"Did you do it?"

Harry stood with his shoulders propping him up against the outside wall of the church. Allie sat in the thinning, November grass, still wet from the morning dew. She treaded her fingers through it, detangling the knotted pieces.

"Yeah," her voice only raised to a whisper, "But Grizz couldn't. What does that say about me?"

"That you're not just talk. You're sending a warning out to the people. 'Don't fuck with me'. You know?"

Allie didn't respond, she just kept picking at the weeds intertwined with the greenery. Harry crouched down, grabbing her attention once more, "He killed your sister. If you hadn't done that, he'd still be out here, threatening the safety of everyone else in this town. You saw the way he talked about the women."

"He said Wren and Campbell helped. Do you think he was lying?"

"After Eden's story... I don't know. I-- I don't think he was.

"How is Eden? I haven't seen her since the trial."

Harry lowered himself even further, taking a seat next to Allie in the grass, "Not good. She's completely isolated herself this past week. After Wren's outburst, a switch in her just... flipped."

"Are you worried?"

"Of course I am. I haven't heard from her at all today."

"If she doesn't show up to the potluck, give her a call. Yeah?" Allie picked herself up and waited for Harry's response, though he had none. She rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment, then left to head inside the church for festivities.

"Yeah." Harry spoke to himself, unsure as to whether it was reassurance for himself or not.

•

Harry sat at the end of the dining table, mindlessly picking away at the table cloth. Around him, the church was teeming with life and laughter. It was silent, though, where he sat. For him, today wasn't necessarily about the main dish. It was about the festivities: being around those you love, those you're thankful for.

He did wait for Eden to show, but she never did. He even started making rounds near the concessions, keeping his attention centered on the double doors up front. Every time they opened, his heart kickstarted a little with excitement, but he'd always end up disappointed, back on his heels.

Campbell and Wren were the last to enter, still with no Eden.

By the end of the potluck, he'd ended up helping some of the others clear the tables. After voicing his concerns to Allie before she left, he'd decided he was going to drop by the Blanchard home once he was done cleaning. He wanted to check in on her, maybe take her for a walk and get some fresh air. What he didn't see that night, though, was his phone on one of the far tables, vibrating with the glow of Eden's name across its screen. Harry had completely forgotten about his phone. His mind was, in his defense, occupied with more important thoughts.

•

"Hey Ede?" He entered the house wearily, uncomfortable with the fact that her door was left unlocked, and slightly ajar.

All of the downstairs lights were off except the main hall, so he assumed her to be somewhere upstairs. First, he ventured into her room, calling out her name, but receiving no response. Her bed sheets had been messily tossed around the floor. The only thing left on her mattress was an off-white, leather book. Odd, he thought. He went to explore the other rooms, finally entering the master. The lights were off, but there was a glow from underneath the connecting bathroom. He rattled the doorknob a bit, but it was locked from the inside. "Eden? Are you in there?"

No response.

Harry pushed against the blockade a bit with his shoulders, and heard the carpet squish underneath his weight. He backed up and looked down to see he'd stepped in water that'd leaked from underneath the door. "Eden?!"

Still no response.

Harry looked around the room frantically for something to break down the door with. His instincts were calling out to him; nothing about this seemed right. He threw his foot up against the door once, with no avail. Twice, and still no budge. But, third time's a charm.

With his final push, the lock ripped through the frame, forcing the doorway to become exposed.

The granite tile was covered in bathwater. A cracked phone rested at his feet, and he saw a pile of empty prescription bottles laying underneath the left, wooden cabinets. His eyes eventually trailed up to the tub, and the girl slumped over inside of it.

It was Eden.

Without pause, Harry was immediately by her side, pulling her out of the water and into his lap. "What the fuck did you do?"