fifty-one || fight night

4.7K 126 279
                                    

the song for this chapter is "Breathe," by ZABO :) 

***********

Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out.

***********


Tate


     "No, no, no. Don't hold the gun like that," Harry scolded, walking up to me and shaking his head.

 I huffed in frustration as he placed his hands over mine and swiftly removed the gun from what I thought was a vice grip in between my hands.

  "If you hold it like that, it makes it ten times easier for your attacker to disarm you," he explained and showed me how to properly hold it.

  "Okay, got it," I sighed. "Are you sure this place is secure?" I sighed.

Harry and I had driven to yet another one of Whit's safe houses. I don't understand how he can have so many houses scattered across the globe as he did, the whole idea of it seeming a bit surreal to me.

   Harry and I were currently in the backyard, which was fenced in. When I had asked Harry why we didn't just stay here, he explained that he thought a hotel would be a better choice, as it was more difficult for just anyone to get in there.

  "Yes, I am sure. And even if it wasn't, I think that we have more than enough weapons to defend ourselves," he laughed, gesturing to the masses of artillery scattered about. 

    "Okay, so now that I know hold to hold a gun-" I started, but Harry was quick to cut me off.

 "Now that you know how to hold this gun," he corrected, once again glancing down to the various types of guns spread out on the ground. "You need to master more than one type of gun, you never know which one will be available to you in a crisis, and therefore, you need to know how to handle them all."

   "Do you really think I'm going to be able to carry a machine gun with me? What am I supposed to do? Call Mary Poppins and ask her if I can borrow that magical bag of hers?" I cried out in frustration. 

   Harry's eyes twinkled in amusement at my little outburst, and he pursed his lips together, and I could tell that he was trying to hold back his laughter. 

  "No, I do not think that you will just have a machine gun strapped to your back while you are out and about. But your attacker might, and I can teach you how to disarm them," he explained, and I felt my cheeks redden slightly.

   "Oh," is all I managed to mumble back. 

  "Okay, you know what? We will master the rest of those later. How about we do some target practice?" He suggested, handing the pistol back to me, the cool metal of it still feeling so foreign resting in my hands, but to Harry, I'm sure it was the same as holding his phone or a cup of coffee. 

    "Are you sure? Won't the people who live in this area be freaked out if they hear a bunch of gunshots?" I asked in confusion, but Harry was already shaking his head.

   "There's no one around here for miles. This is actually one of the places that Whit sends new recruits to do some of their training. I came here for my own training when I first started," he replied.

    My face softened at his words. I couldn't even begin to imagine being taken here at sixteen, trained to fight and kill. I wondered how someone who had been through as many things as Harry had managed to still have such a soft and tender heart, even though he didn't show it to many people. 

witness || h.s.||   ON HOLD Where stories live. Discover now