Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Fourteen: Anabolism

Your room was dark, dirty, and smelled like mothballs. With everything going on, you hadn't exactly been focused on keeping up with cleanliness. God knows, your room was still in far nicer shape than Harry's. Just the thought of him sent you into another weak fit of sobbing.

You had been lying in bed for well upwards of twenty-four hours since Hoodie had driven you home, not allowing yourself to cry until you were locked in the quiet of your musty bedroom. He didn't deserve to see your tears.

Your thoughts were consumed by Harry, anger giving way to denial, and now, finally to grief. There was no way to reach out, not without getting you both shot. The one person who had kept you sane through the initial stages of the stalking, the person who had carried you into the apartment and held you after that traumatic night in the alley, had been mercilessly ripped away from you. Harry may not have been dead yet, but to you it sure as hell felt that way. The only thought that kept you from completely teetering off the rails was that Jade seemed to genuinely care about him, judging by how much she fucking hated your guts. At least he had someone. You didn't have a soul for comfort, more alone in the world than you'd ever been.

You now took numbly to watching the way light filtered in through your mostly-concealed window, the way it caused dust particles to glow as they floated through the air. You'd worked your brain raw already, filtering through all your stages of grief, searching for a solution which never seemed to break through. The isolation was torturous, you didn't know how much more of it you could bear. You were good at being alone, sure, but this time there wasn't the safety net of friends and family. Hoodie had made sure to sever you from every familiar soul. God, you fucking hated him.

Knock knock.

Talk of the devil. You pulled a blanket over your head, not moving from where you lay. No answer left your lips, not even a screech of 'fuck off!'. You just wished that he'd cease the mental torment, either kill you or leave and never be seen again. He insisted that he couldn't do that, but his words were meaningless to you. All he ever spouted were threats and jokes at your expense, and you were sick of it.

He had done this a couple of times in the many hours you'd shut yourself in here, knocking and sometimes calling out; 'you coming out yet?' or 'you know I'm not gonna shoot you if you open the door, right?'. Making light hearted fun, as if you were best pals. You were in no mood to open the door and face your tormentor, choosing to straight up ignore him each time. You'd starve in here, you didn't care.

At least he had the basic fucking decency to not break the lock and barge in anyway. You didn't know what he'd been doing out there in your living room, if he'd been hanging out there this entire time or if he only popped in to make fun of you at random intervals. You sincerely hoped he had better shit to do, but you doubted it. Scum of the earth.

Buzz buzz.

You sighed as you glanced at your phone screen, casting blue light on your bedraggled features from within your pathetic blanket burrito.

One new message from 'Fuckhead':

You have a paper due on Monday.

You frowned at the message. Was he seriously reminding you to do your homework right now? You couldn't bring yourself to actively care, though in the very back of your mind you did, a little. Which was fucked up, considering all the other shit going on right now. Still, to hell with the assignment. You had gone to class on Friday, sure, but that was before you had been informed that you'd get a bullet to the head for simply trying to contact your little brother. You were too run down, unable to get out of your own bed.

Buzz buzz.

It's worth 20%

You rolled your eyes. You didn't fucking care. He was just trying to get under your skin, make you feel like a fucking failure. Which you already did, so his point was moot.