witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

forty-two || the house that built me (and broke me)

the song for this chapter is, "To Build A Home," by The Cinematic Orchestra and Patrick Watson :)

***********

'Cause, I built a home
For you
For me




Until it disappeared
From me
From you

And now, it's time to leave and turn to dust

***********

Tate

   Harry was pretty quiet on our drive this morning, but reasonably so. 

   Today was the day that we would be going to his childhood home. To the place that he hadn't been since his mother was murdered there six years ago.

  Today, it was my turn to be the strong one. I had to be, for Harry's sake.

   The closer we got to our destination, the more rigid Harry's body became. I took note of the way that his knuckles turned more white with each mile that was knocked off of our trip. His jaw was clenched so tightly, that I don't think he could have opened his mouth even if he wanted to. 

   I didn't say much either. I don't think that there was anything I could say that could improve the situation we were in. So, I did my best to comfort him as we shared our silence together. 

  I glanced down at the navigation to check on how far we were. We only had about ten minutes left, and I swear I could see beads of sweat forming on Harry's skin.

   He startled me a bit when he finally broke the silence. 

  "What if it's not even there anymore? What if someone else bought the house? What if they just bulldozed over it and put up a new building?" He asked quietly.

      "We will find out when we get there, and we will work from there. Maybe, if all else fails, we can just bust the lock to the journals," I suggested, but Harry shook his head at me.

   "I think that if it were that simple, someone would have done that a long time ago. There's a possibility that it could be rigged with something so that if the lock is tampered with, the contents could quite literally burst into flames," he responded, and I looked up to see a smile ticking at the corners of his mouth.

    "You watch too much TV," I teased, and he finally took one of his hands off of the steering wheel and reached over to grasp my own. His hand was cold and clammy, but I didn't hesitate to intertwine my fingers with his. 

        "I don't know how this is gonna end," he whispered, and I squeezed his hand.

   "Me either, but let's try not to worry about that until we get the journals open," I replied, doing my best to encourage him. 

     Harry opened his mouth to say something but instead sucked in a sharp breath, and the car began to slow down. I snapped my eyes over to follow his gaze, stopping when I saw the small house alongside the worn-down path we had been driving on. 

     Harry pulled up the driveway to the house, and I turned my head to look back up at him, and I saw the fear in his eyes. It broke my heart in ways I can't even begin to explain.

   He put the car in park and paused for a moment, exhaling a shaky breath, before finally unbuckling his seat belt and opening the car door. He stepped out and shut it behind him, before walking around to my side of the car to do the same. 

    I scooped up the journals in my lap and reached into the cupholder to grab my dad's half of the key.  

   I stepped out of the car and Harry shut it behind me. His head was facing the ground, and I reached a finger up to tilt his chin up to look at me.