witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

forty-three|| to whom it may concern...

the song for this chapter is "Trouble's Coming," by Royal Blood :)

***********

If I could, you don't think I would pretend
Trouble's coming but I still don't know when
That's the voice that I can hear in my head
I hear it over and over again


[Chorus]
I hear trouble coming, I hear trouble coming
I hear trouble coming over and over again
I hear trouble coming, I hear trouble coming
I hear trouble coming over and over again

***********

Tate

I handed Harry his dad's journal which he quickly placed in his lap, looking back over at me.

I let out a deep breath. "Okay, I'll unlock mine, you unlock yours, and then we will open them together, okay?" I asked.

"Okay, baby," he smiled.

I shifted my attention back down to the old and worn down leather journal sitting in my lap. It was kind of funny, in a not so funny way, that one of the most significant things I had from my father, was the same thing that had completely flipped my life upside down.

Although I guess it wasn't all bad, considering the man sitting next to me in the car.

And besides, I had a feeling that this would always be my fate, and that maybe Harry was always a part of my fate as well.

I took the key and wiggled it into the bottom of the padlock, taking a deep breath, letting it out, and then finally, twisting the key, and watching the lock spring open.

I looked up at Harry with wide eyes, as the moment we had been waiting for was so close to coming to pass.

Reaching my hand over the console, I dropped the key into his palm.

He quickly flipped the lock open, and then placed the key back in the cupholder, looking over at me.

"Ready?" He asked, a faint grin on his face.

I gave him a hesitant smile as I answered. "As I'll ever be."

We both glanced back down to the journals, and in perfect sync, slowly pulled the cover open.

I stared at the journal with a puzzled expression on my face, and when I looked up at Harry, he was doing the same.

"The first page of mine has a letter taped onto it, but it's torn in half," I spoke, and I watched as he sighed in relief.

Without saying anything, he simply peeled off a similar half-page out of his dad's journal and handed it over to me.

I took it from him and lined it up to the page in my book, relieved as it was a perfect match.

"You read it," I instructed, placing the journal carefully on the console between us.

He picked up the book and leaned back further in his seat, and opened his mouth to speak.

"To whom it may concern,

If the person who is reading this is who we think it is, then welcome. I hope it took you quite a while to put the pieces together (literally).

If it is you, a man comparable only to the devil himself, then welcome, you worthless son of a bitch. Welcome to your own personal hell.

You are the lowest of the lows. When you sought out our help for this software, you lead us to believe it would be used for good, not evil. We trusted you, we cared about you.