<Coach Styles>

Fifty Seven-

They say only the good die young. Well, I wasn't about to go down without a fight. I didn't know where Colby could've gone to hide from me and I grabbed another knife from the wooden block, this one slightly smaller, but still just as effective if I stabbed him in the right place. Hearing fast footsteps coming from the right outside the kitchen door, my heart pounded hard and fast against my ribs. Turning the corner once again, ready to stab him in more than just the arm this time, my hand was stopped.

"Babe! It's me," Harry's familiar voice said as I tried to wriggle my hands from his grip.

"It's me. You're okay, it's me," he whispered.

"Harry, he's here. He- he he's here and he's trying to kill me," I said, looking at him frantically, tears streaming down my face.

"Who's here?" he asked.

"Why don't you ask me?" Colby's voice came from behind him just as the same knife I stabbed him with launched at Harry's neck and I pushed him aside just in time.

"You don't scare me," he laughed maniacally as Harry got in front of me, pushing my back against the pantry door.

"Colby," his voice was surprisingly calm. "Put the knife and the gun down. You don't want to do this. You have a bright future ahead of you."

"Not without her."

"You can move on just as she has."

"You're a liar. She's mine and if I can't have her, no one can. Including you!" he seethed.

"What are you talking about?" Harry's hands were still on my hips and he gently squeezed them.

"Oh don't think I didn't know you two were fucking this entire time. She turns tomato red every time she's around you."

"Colby, you don't know what you're saying," Harry said, letting go of my hips and taking a step forward. I wasn't mad that he was trying to cover it up. If Colby got out of this alive, I knew he'd tell everyone.

"Take another step and I'll kill you."

"Actually," Colby mused. "Why don't I just kill her first and let you watch? That's so much more fun."

"What kind of gun is that?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"What kind of gun is that?"

"It's my fucking gun. That's what kind of gun it is." Something in me knew Harry was going to try to make another move. Taking another step forward, Harry ducked his head forward, tackling Colby.

"I told you I was going to kill you if you ever came here again, didn't I?" Harry asked, the gun now in his hands.

"You don't have the balls," Colby spat and I saw droplets of blood spew onto the kitchen floor. Hearing the gun go off again, Colby's body lay there lifeless and Harry stood. I was shaking and sobbing as I fell to the ground, the blood still oozing from my leg. Harry sat the gun on the counter and skunked down, looking at his hands.

"Miss Cavanaugh?" I heard a deep male voice call. Seeing three police officers burst through the kitchen door, I cried even harder.

"Don't move!" one screamed at Harry.

"He's innocent. That's my friend," I sniffled. "He saved me." Seeing a few paramedics come through the door, one bent down at Colby, pressing his hand to his neck and looking up, shaking his head.

"I'm Troy," the one that came over to me smiled. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Uh, um," I stammered. "Neely."

"Okay Neely, can you tell me who's the president?"

"Obama."

"Your birthday?"

"September third."

"I'm just gonna take a look at the cuts on your legs," he said gently. Straightening my legs out for him to look, he cleared his throat.

"Hey, Peter!" he called. "She's gonna need some stitches."

"Let's go get you some shorts and then I can stitch you up," he smiled gently, extending his hand to help me up. Watching as they assessed Harry, I quietly walked up the stairs and into my room, grabbing a pair of shorts.

"Okay, this might hurt a little bit, but it'll be okay. I only have to do this for three of the cuts." I only nodded. "Can you tell me my name?"

"Troy."

"What happened here, Neely?"

"Ex boyfriend."

"Is the guy in there your new one?"

"Just a friend." Feeling a slight sting as he cleaned the cuts and began stitching them, I clenched my jaw. After he was done stitching me up, they took both Harry and I down to the police station to record statements. Harry explicitly told them not to release anything to the news about him being there. I knew it would get him in trouble, but they agreed to refer to him as a good neighbor.

"State your full name, please," the officer said.

"Neely Cavanaugh."

"Birthdate."

"September 3,1997."

"Your age."

"17."

"Tell us what happened."

"Colby and I dated sophomore year. We broke up and were friends with benefits for a while and then I didn't want to do that anymore so I ended it. He went crazy, tried to kill me."

"And how did he end up dead?"

"Well, I had first stabbed him in self defense and then Mr. Styles ended up shooting him in self defense."

"He didn't go down when you stabbed him?"

"He did, and then after I called 911, I went back into the kitchen and he was gone."

"Where exactly did you stab him?"

"His arm."

"And you did this, why?"

"I stuck the knife wherever I could to get him down. I wasn't able to think clearly."

"Okay, Miss. Cavanaugh. You're free to go." Standing up, I saw Harry waiting outside for me. Limping toward him, his arms circled around my waist and I began to cry once again.

You guys. Whoo. This has been crazy, but hang on. It's not over yet.