Chapter Eleven

Harry

Ethan was panicking.

I knew this because he was tapping his legging erratically as we sat eating breakfast at the kitchen table. Ethan didn’t fidget – not unless he was well and truly shitting his pants panicking, that was.

“Stop.”

He raised his eyes to mine in question. “What?”

“Tapping your leg.” I couldn’t exactly spell it out clearly and ask him to stop panicking about the fact that we were now in fact going rogue against our own agency.

The house was completely wired with listening and viewing devices. If Dawson heard that we were now focusing all of our energies on taking him down, it could manifest a tiny problem in our current working relationship with him. Tiny.

It had been five days since the night Grant had killed himself and since Ethan and I had questioned Lawman. The truth had stumped me, I had to admit. But once I wrapped my head around it, anger and a desire for revenge soon gave me the sweet release from the paralysing fear I’d been caught in.

My father was back. He was trying to kill me.

There – I’d said it. It was a big statement, to be fair. I understood that. But I didn’t realise how free I’d feel once I got over the initial shock. That was my interpretation, anyway.

Ethan couldn’t understand this, of course. The times we’d spoken about it outside of the house, he had practically begged me to break down. He couldn’t understand that I was truly okay with my prognosis. Unless he saw me paralysed with fear, as I had been the previous night, he was certain I wasn’t coping.

I didn’t even know if I was coping or not – I assumed I was. I was able to make coherent plans and that seemed like good progress, wasn’t it? For instance, I planned on taking my shit-face of a father down and wipe him off the face of the earth. The exact details of this plan were still to be decided as of yet. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to give him a chance to kill me – or Ethan, for that matter.

Oh, didn’t you know? Lawman had so graciously told us that not only was my father set on killing his own son, he was after Ethan, too. Apparently we had foiled a huge drugs-bust a few years back that my father had been heavily involved in. Ethan had been the main operative in that mission.

And because Ethan was currently on this mission with me, my father said ‘fuck it, might as well kill them both. That Moore guy had pissed me off before anyway.’

Wasn’t that a hilarious turn of events? Not only did I have to worry for my own life, now only person I loved in the world was in danger. And that seriously pissed me off.

Another funny thing was that Lawman actually worked for my father. ‘Head of Distribution’ was his job title. White illegal substances were all the range, going by the profit my father made from selling it.

Yet another hilarious twist to this story? Dawson, our Captain for the past ten years, was my father’s business partner. Things were getting pretty cosy around here, weren’t they? It seemed they had arranged a deal years ago when Dawson was still an agent out on the field and not our Captain.

They had met during yet another drugs-bust case involving my father and it seemed that instead of handing him into the authorities, Dawson was swayed by the glitz and the profits my father promised him.

I’d always wondered how the Captain could afford such shiny watches, the smarmy bastard.

Ethan gave me a weird look as he rose from the kitchen table and placed his bowl in the sink. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to know whenever I was thinking about my father.

Which was practically all of the time, these days.

“Let’s go for a walk. Stephanie usually goes on her afternoon run this time – we need to discuss details of the funeral with her,” Ethan said coolly. I knew that this was code for ‘we need to talk about the fact that the agency we are working for has truly fucked us over and we need to talk in private. Also, you aren’t coping with your true feelings – let’s see if I can get you to cry today.’

“Fine,” I muttered.

Another ten minutes and we were walking briskly around the large neighbourhood, friendly, approachable smiles on our faces.

Our conversation wasn’t friendly, however. And we also decided to wipe the smiles off of our faces when we walked past the Jefferson’s home – the funeral was taking place tomorrow. Huge fights between Grant’s family and Audrey over the location of his burial had halted any funeral proceedings.

Audrey had finally won the fight and he was to be buried in a plot she’d bought, where she would be buried with him some day.

Very fucking morbid.

“You need to talk to me. Holding things in isn’t good for you, Harry. I’m so fucking worried about you as it is, I don’t want to have to second-guess what you’re thinking!” Here we fucking went. He was already starting on me. Ethan’s frustration was unnecessary. Sure, I’d gotten a shock the night I’d heard about my father’s return. But now that I’d processed the information, I was fine!

I voiced this to Ethan for the hundredth time but he just rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Hugh said that Dawson strategically placed us here because Michael Taylor, your father, requested it of him. Michael has him wrapped around his little finger – there’s nothing Dawson wouldn’t do for him. This should be alarming, don’t you think? How are you okay with this?”

I hated when Ethan addressed my father by his first name... it brought shivers up my spine. That pathetic excuse of a man shouldn’t have a name.

“Who’s to say we can trust Lawman anyway? He won’t tell us exactly why he’s decided to be on our side – it’s pretty fucked up that he just expects us to trust him. I think we should question his motives!”

Ethan had already been through this line of questioning with Lawman and, in the end, he decided that although Lawman’s actions were questionable, he deemed them honourable.

Of course Ethan took Lawman’s side. They were practically making out the last day we all went for a drive – in Lawman’s car, of course. Ours were bugged. They were discussing how we would retaliate when my father would finally come knocking if we weren’t prepared. They couldn’t agree more with each other when making the plan and it was, quite frankly, making me sick.

“Harry, you need to put this rivalry with Hugh behind you – I thought you were making progress with him?” Ethan sighed.

“Just because whenever the cameras are around I act as if they sun shines out of his ass doesn’t mean I believe it. It’s a mission, Ethan. The agency needs to see us make progress with Lawman. I’m giving them progress – there’s nothing more to it.”

“I still think you are starting to like him a little – he could be potentially saving your life, you know.” Ethan’s tone was softer and I knew that this discussion hurt him. Just like it hurt me when Lawman told us that Ethan was in the firing line too.

“There will be a lot of people of interest at the funeral tomorrow. People who work for Michael,” I flinched again, “So we need to keep our eyes open. Did you revise the pictures Hugh gave to us on Michael’s closest accomplices?” Ethan asked.

“Yes. Now can we just drop it? I want to talk about something else,” I mumbled, kicking a stone on the pavement onto the road.

Ethan stopped walking. I continued walking for a few more steps until I realised he wasn’t going to follow me. Turning around I threw my hands up in the air.

“What?” I exclaimed when he studied me with those striking blue eyes of his.

“When are you going to admit that you’re scared? I’m scared. There – I said it. I’m so freaking terrified that they’re going to succeed in hurting you, I can barely sleep. It consumes me. The thought of them even touching you makes my skin crawl. I want to cry sometimes with fear,” he took a step towards me, “Why can’t you just say that you’re scared too?”

I faltered. He had never gotten this, this emotional with me. Normally he just pleaded with me to ‘talk to him’ or ‘get my feelings out’. Very unlike the Ethan I knew from the past who would more than likely tell me to rub some dirt in a wound to make it better. This mission was changing him... changing us.

“Harry?” he continued walking towards me, a desperate look in his eye. The conversation was getting too much and I knew that I’d finally reached his breaking point. I’d brushed off this conversation one too many times. I felt my breaking point nearing too, however.

“Ethan – can we just talk about something else? Please?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he suddenly shouted, bounding towards me and grabbing me by the cuff of my shirt, pinning me to a high brick wall to my right. We had stumbled onto a clearing of grass and a large oak tree obscured us partially from the road.

We had walked to the back of the neighbourhood and it was desolate at the minute. That could change, however. Ethan needed to get a grip.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hissed, trying to release his grasp on me. It was futile, though. He had always been stronger than me and it was really showing now. The air was fraught with emotion and he seemed to have woken up particularly vulnerable this morning.

The days leading up to the funeral that was taking place tomorrow had been tense. It seemed that he was getting pent up on the possibility that my father and his friends could attack us tomorrow.

“I want you to talk to me!” he snapped through gritted teeth, his hot breath fanning against my face. Our bodies were pressed together as he pinned me harder against the stone wall which was, to be honest, really pinching my back.

“I am talking to you,” I said quietly, looking around in case a bystander arrived.

“You know what I mean, you bastard – speak to me! Why can’t you be normal for once and just fucking talk – tell me what’s on your mind!” his words had an edge to them. That edge was nicking away at my self-control and I felt my breaking point nearing once again, “You are so closed up it frightens me that you will implode some day! At least the night we found out Michael had come back you showed some form of true emotion! Michael is back, Harry - ”

“STOP SAYING HIS NAME!”

Ethan looked taken aback for second at my outburst but began to speak again almost immediately after. I stopped him, though. It was too late – I couldn’t hold back the words that were on the tip of my tongue – the words I didn’t want to say. I didn’t want to believe.

“I am genuinely and utterly afraid that if I think about what could happen to us I will do something that I could regret. I am so terrified that if I even entertain the mere notion that he could kill you, I will end up having a breakdown. And I’m not being dramatic about that – I can’t control myself like you can. I need to act like this because there is no other way – the other way is me taking a fucking gun to my head to escape this twisted, fucked-up reality! I’ve been dealing with my past for years by pretending everything’s okay and I’m not going to stop now – otherwise, I may as well follow Grant into the ground tomorrow. Okay? Are you satisfied?”

My words had come out in a rush and I could barely remember what I’d said. The adrenaline from Ethan’s pent-up speech had rubbed onto my fast. But just as fast, it was diminishing and I was regretting my words instantly – they were taking their affect on me, as it was the first time I’d ever voiced my fears. Fears I would spiral into a depression and commit suicide because it was all too much to handle.

Fuck – I hadn’t allowed myself to think like that since I joined the agency all those years ago. It wasn’t something I wanted to ever think about again.

The affect they were having on Ethan, however, was exactly what I’d feared. His eyes were already getting watery. This was exactly why I should never speak unless I had a joke at the end of the sentence.

“Ethan, look,” I began more gently and a whole lot less erratically. He didn’t give me a chance to speak, though, covering my lips with his fingers. He had paled and his eyes were staring into mine, widened.

We stayed like this for a few more seconds until I tried to speak again. His grip on the cuff of my shirt had weakened significantly but I didn’t try and move.

“Ethan,” I mumbled against his fingers, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just – I just prefer to not think about it, okay? If I want to talk, I’ll talk.”

His jaw was slightly slack and he still seemed to be in a daze. He nodded faintly and backed away from me, his eyes still clinging to mine.

He was freaking me out – he didn’t speak and just started walking back towards the house, his hands shoved into his pockets.

I knew I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I knew that. But what did I even do wrong? Tell my best friend that I could potentially be suicidal – if that was even what I was? He was blowing things way out of proportion.

I’d never do it – I would never leave him behind like that. But he needed to understand why I was the way I was. Thinking did me no good. The gun thing was worst case scenario.

Fuck, I should have made that clear – I should have stressed that if a gun was involved, I literally had no other options. No – I shouldn’t have said anything about a gun!

I followed him all the way home, trailing a few steps behind him the entire way. He was focusing his eyes on the pavement in front of him and honestly, I didn’t think he wanted me near him. He was probably shocked at how weak I was. Shocked that I’d turn to suicide – which I wouldn’t. He needed to understand what I meant.

When we neared our house he kept walking. I frowned, puzzled. I considered just going back in and leaving him walk off his shock. I couldn’t, though. I’d walk behind him for hours if I had to.

When we left the bounds of the neighbourhood and neared one of the main roads with woods on either side of it, I knew we needed to stop.

“Ethan, enough. You’ve had your time to think about it. Thinking time is up – let’s go home.” I stopped walking.

He surprisingly stopped walking, too. He turned around, tears in his eyes. Woah -  for such a big guy, he looked really vulnerable. He began walking quickly towards me, his fists bunched.

What the fuck? Was he going to hit me? Pin me up against something again? Jesus this guy had such a vendetta against me today!

When he neared me, I raised my hands to cover my face if he was going to hit me – hey, my face was my best asset! Instead, my hands ended up pressed against his chest as he wrapped his arms around me, holding me to him tightly.

Was he hugging me?

It seemed so. He even cried a little against my shoulder. I tried not to let it affect me but a tear trickled from my eye somehow. I blamed it on the cold weather.

“Ethan... come on... I didn’t mean it,” I said quietly. My hands had started trailing his back soothingly and he had stopped crying. I was in shock. I had never been the stronger one. He always looked out for me.

“Stop lying,” he said, speaking for the first time. His voice was muffled against my sweater.

I decided not to say anything else. I didn’t know what would set him off again – it seemed all I was doing was making things worse by talking.

“Have you ever tried it before?” his question was blunt and left a bad taste in my mouth. I automatically felt my mind closing up and I pushed away from him, trying not to make it look like I was freaking out. Because honestly, being asked a question like that when you knew the answer wasn’t good gave good cause for someone to freak out.

“No,” I answered quickly, looking everywhere but him. I was a shit liar but I hoped he wouldn’t see through me this time.

His quiet gasp told me that he had easily seen through my pathetic lie. I felt my hands start to shake as I knew what his next question would be. I didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed.

“W-when?” his voice cracked and he ran a hand through his thick brown hair, trying to stop the tears that were flowing from his eyes. I pretended not to see them – this conversation couldn’t happen. I didn’t think either of us were strong enough.

“Ethan, it was a long time ago. I’m a different person now. I don’t want to rehash the past.” I tried to keep my voice gentle and remain mindful of the fact that he was dealing with a lot right now. Fuck, if the roles were reversed and I was finding this out about him, I’d probably be a pathetic ball on the ground.

“No. We’re having this conversation. I’ve put up with not knowing for too damn long – I love you, Harry. You know exactly how much I love you yet you choose to ignore it. And I’m fine with that, as long as I can stay in your life! That’s how much you mean to me – but I will not be fine with being kept in the dark for a minute longer. There’s too much riding on this mission. You need to tell me everything.” He was breathing heavily and I felt like his eyes were consuming me.

Overwhelming was an understatement.

“I c-can’t,” a small whimper left my mouth and Ethan was by my side instantly, cupping my face with his hands.

“You can. It’s me, Harry – I never have and I never will leave your side. No matter what you tell me. No matter what.”

I couldn’t breathe. I felt like years of stifling these memories were hitting me at once and my knees went weak. There was a car headed in our direction and I knew that the rush-hour would begin. We needed to get off the road before anything else was said.

Ethan supported me by putting his arm around me, leading me into a clearing the woods that surrounded us. There was a large tree stump in the middle of the clearing, almost as if it had been put there just for us in this moment.

When we sat down, Ethan didn’t take his arm off me. And I didn’t want him to. I needed to feel him. I battled with the memories in my head that made me want to remove all physical contact with him, like I always did whenever we got too close.

Memories my father had made.

“Take your time and just start whenever you want,” Ethan whispered against my hair. I hadn’t realised he’d pulled me into his chest and that I could hear his heartbeat. The noise comforted me.

“Okay,” I took a deep breath, shocked I was actually doing this... I wouldn’t over-think it – I’d just back out, “it all started when he walked out on me and my mom when I was a baby and came back when I was twelve...”

-       -

Sixteen years ago...

I never understood why my mom hated me. There had never been a time when I actually felt loved by her and she never told me why. All of my friends at schools had birthday parties and went to playgrounds at the weekends. The only time I ever did was when someone else’s parents took me and I’d never had a birthday party.

I wasn’t unhappy, though. I was able to make jokes easily and I was pretty popular in school. London was a great city and I loved it whenever mom went away for a few days so I could walk around the busy streets and take in the electricity of the place.

I was never left hungry and she didn’t hit me much – only when I’d been bad. I had no brothers or sisters but I’d had a lot of dads.

Well, I only had one dad. But mom just had lots of boyfriends who she made me call dad after two weeks. They never stuck around for long, though.

None of them compared to my dad, though. Mom never spoke about him but I knew that was because she missed him – I knew he was away, doing amazing things. I couldn’t wait for the day when he came back to get me away from here. I couldn’t remember what he looked like because he left when I was little, but I knew that I’d recognise him the second I saw him.

It was shock therefore when I walked into my kitchen and saw a short, pudgy man sitting at our kitchen table one day after school. We’d had P.E. that day so I was in my gym gear.

“Who’s this?” I asked my mom when I walked into the kitchen, placing my bag with my books on the ground by the hallway neatly. She hated it when I made a mess.

“What have I told you about asking questions around guests, sweetheart?” she cooed with a threatening look in her as she walked to embrace me.

I couldn’t remember the last time my mom had touched me, never mind speak to me so nicely. What was going on?

“He’s alright,” the grey, balding man chuckled, “he’s like his old man – gets straight to the point of things! Eh, squirt?” he reached over from where he was sitting at the kitchen table in our tiny kitchen and tussled my hair. I impulsively drew away from him and his hands.

This gave him a dark glint in his eye but one that diminished instantly, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.

I so badly wanted to ask who he was again and how he knew my ‘old man’, but I was sure mom would give me a smack later on if I opened my mouth.

It seemed I didn’t have to ask, however, as he spoke again.

“Beatrice, why don’t you introduce the boy to me for God’s sake!” the man snapped at my mother who seemed to be brimming with excitement.

“Harry, this is your father. He’s come to see you!” she couldn’t contain her joy and a shrill giggle left her mouth – I’d never seen her like this before.

I eyed the man in front of me and felt a surge of disappointment. I wouldn’t have guessed he was my father at all. We looked nothing alike, except maybe our eyes. They were the same shape and colour but that was it. I didn’t feel the happiness and elatedness I thought I’d feel when I finally met him.

“Well, what you standing there for? Give yer old man a hug!” I hesitated but wasn’t given an option to refuse his offer when mom pushed me into his chest. He hugged me tightly, hurting my ribs. I winced and pulled back, looking at him again. I would have to suck it up and stop acting so ungrateful – this was my father!

I forced a smile and shook his hand which seemed to impress him.

“Tell me about school, Harry. Do you like it?” he asked, leading me to the seat beside him where I sat down. Mom just stood and watched us.

“Yeah, I love it! We’re doing something really interesting with geography at the minute and I get to be the team leader when our projects have to be done!” I truly did love school and homework. None of my friends knew how much I did and mom had never cared to ask but my dad seemed interested!

“You serious kid?” he smirked, rolling his eyes, “You’re the only fucking kid to like school that I’ve met. No – I’ll tell you what you’ll like. Coming on the road with me and learning about the... family business.” His tone had an edge to it that I didn’t like.

“Going on the road?” my mom exclaimed, “My God, Michael that would be brilliant! We’ve been getting sick of London, haven’t we Harry?”

I was about to reply ‘no, I want to stay in London as a matter of fact,’ when my dad spoke again.

“Jesus Beatrice, you hardly expected to come too, did ya?” he said with a cruel laugh, “No – you’ve reared Harry till now which is what a mother should do and congrats to you on keeping him alive. Now it’s his old man’s turn – you’re gonna be taking over the family business some day, squirt! You need to start learning the basics!”

He stood up and pulled on his leather jacket that had been hung over the back of his chair.

“What?” mom mumbled in utter shock. I was ashamed of myself that I was so happy to see her so upset, but she’d treated me so badly over the years, she deserved this. I wouldn’t be going with him, though. Not that she would care.

Dad ignored her and looked around. “Where’s your room, son? We need to start packing!”

I opened my mouth to politely refuse his offer of dropping out of school and leaving all of my friends. I was sure there would be plenty of time after school to start learning about the ‘family business’, whatever it was!

Mom interrupted me once again, though.

“Michael for fuck’s sake you are not walking out on me again!” she shrieked, trying to take his hands in hers.

He roughly pushed her back into the sink though and laughed cruelly once again. “You’re so pathetic. I never wanted you – the only reason I’m back here is to get my son and go. Now, where’s your bedroom Harry?” he snapped at me.

“I’ve put up with him for eleven years! The only reason I kept him was because I loved you! You left me before because of him and now you’re leaving me again because of him! You’re a little fucking mistake, I wish I’d never had you,” she screamed at me, pulling on her hair with her hands erratically.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her say those words to me so I wasn’t fazed. I knew she was probably on heroin again – she always acted crazy when she was on it.

“I left you because you’re a crazy bitch, Beatrice. Deal with it. Now, let’s go Harry. I’ll buy you new stuff,” he grabbed me by my shoulder and started pulling me towards the front door.

I opened my mouth to protest once again but I didn’t get a chance to speak. Mom launched herself towards us, flinging herself against dad and hitting him with all her might in a rage. I was thrown onto my back and felt a large pain in my head as one of her fists got me in the eye. I wanted to cry but didn’t want to look weak in front of my dad.

I could hear them scuffling and swearing at each other but I didn’t want to get up from where I was lying on the ground. My head was so sore. I could have banged it when I fell. It hurt to open my eyes so I just kept them closed. After a few seconds when I heard the scuffling quieten, I risked lifting my head. Maybe they had made up.

Instead of the scene I’d wanted to see, dad had pinned mom to the ground, his hands closed around her throat and a crazy look in his eye.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled, rubbing my head and easing myself into a seated position. There were stars in the corners of my eyes.

He didn’t answer and instead gritted his teeth as his fat face reddened, focusing all of his might on squeezing my mom’s throat. She wasn’t moving.

That’s when it hit me.

“Stop! Stop!” I yelled, getting up as fast as I could and running to him, trying to push him off. It was no use though – he wasn’t budging and no matter how much I smacked, pushed or kicked him, he wouldn’t move.

I was crying loudly and mom’s face had gone a weird colour. Her eyes were bulging out of her head and her mouth was bleeding heavily because she’d clamped her teeth down on her tongue.

I couldn’t stop screaming and crying and I think I vomited too. It was all becoming a blur. I heard knocking at the door and then it became banging. My father seemed to notice this, too, as he let go of my mom’s neck and looked at me anxiously.

“Kid, shut the fuck up – we need to get out of here! Stop fucking crying!” he was getting angry and he was standing now, making him look even more dangerous. I couldn’t stop wailing though – I was in shock.

I heard the neighbours from next door shouting through the letterbox that they had called the police and this seemed to really tick my father off.

“Harry, I’ll knock you out if you don’t stop crying like a fucking faggot!” he warned, his face reddening again. I tried to stop but genuinely couldn’t. Maybe I was having a panic attack?

Another sob left my mouth and this seemed to be his breaking point as the next thing I knew, I felt another blow to the head and this time, everything went black.

-       -

Present day...

There was rustling in the trees behind us and I was snapped out of the daze I  had been in whilst reliving my worst memories. Ethan swung around, ready to protect me but relaxed instantly.

“It’s just a squirrel, don’t worry,” he murmured, squeezing my hand. I assumed he’d taken my hand in his when I started to tell him the moment I realised my father was murdering my mother.

I raised my eyes from the ground to look at him. He looked in utter shock and horror. That was how most people looked at me whenever I told them that part of the story.

“You look so horrified but I haven’t even gotten to the worst part,” I muttered, disentangling myself from him and standing up.

I felt like I was hollow shell. Telling that story had drained the life out of me.

“I want to kill him with my bare hands,” Ethan whispered, staying seated on the tree stump with his fists clenched on his lap. I believed him.

“You’re not the only one,” I replied, smiling sadly.

He hesitantly raised his eyes to mine, tears still dripping from them. “Want to continue?”

He stood up so we were together once again and I had to admit that his presence calmed me more than any medication could. I loved him – and that was the problem. That was the reason I was so distant from him.

“I’m sick of hiding everything. I might as well tell you,” I pulled him to sit down next to me again but this time, left a space between us. I could tell I hurt him by this action, but in order for me to speak this next part, it was necessary.

“I don’t understand,” Ethan murmured, lifting his eyes from the space between us.

“I wasn’t always like this – I wasn’t always so closed off. I never once shied away from my true feelings. Twelve year old me was awesome – I didn’t care what anyone thought of me.” I paused, feeling my throat constrict.

“What changed?” Ethan’s voice trembled. He knew something big was coming.

I took a deep breath, my mouth trembling from the emotions I was holding back. I covered my face with my hands and tried to hold back the tears, determined to get the next sentence out.

I could see Ethan’s hand inching towards me and I knew he was terrified I’d reject him or not continue if he touched me.

Before his hand could touch me I dropped my hands and looked directly into his eyes, knowing there was no going back.

“When he abducted me after murdering my mother, I made the mistake of opening up to him when he had me tied to the chair in that barn or whatever the fuck it was. I thought he would show sympathy towards me and let me go. I told him... I told h-him...”

I swallowed back the lump and prayed for strength. I could feel Ethan shaking beside me and I knew it was killing him seeing me this way.

I needed to man up.

“I told him I was in love with my best friend from school. When he asked who she was I instantly corrected him. I was in love with a guy called Brian. I hadn’t thought I’d said anything wrong – being gay wasn’t a big deal to me. I didn’t think it would be to him, either. Not until he spent the next three days torturing the ‘faggot’ out of me, that is.”

There it was. There was the monumental sentence that had consumed me ever since. My father had done enough of a job on me that anytime I felt anything towards a man, memories of him drilling a nail into my leg would return or the feeling of him sawing a chunk off of my bare ass.

Those were some of the milder things he’d done to me. I’d spent months in the hospital afterwards. I still had some of the faint scars. But it was the mental scars that were the most prominent. The torture never went away. That was what made loving Ethan so hard. It killed me.

Every time I gave into anything I felt for Ethan, my father’s wild eyes would appear and I swear I could feel the pain of the whip on my back once more. It was just easier to be the man my father shaped me to be – straight and in denial.

I looked up at Ethan to see his reaction. He was staring into space, his lips stretched into a thin white line. I looked at his hand which was resting on the space between us. Taking a deep breath, I reached over and took it in mine. The physical contact between us seemed to hit a nerve with him and before I knew it, he was dragging me to him, wrapping his arms around me and hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

I felt the wetness of his tears against my skin and I trailed my fingers along his arm. I had never felt more vulnerable in my life.

“Tell me what he did to you,” Ethan whispered shakily, not moving his head from the safe-haven of my neck. “I need to know what he did to you.”

I gulped and nodded. As I listed out Michael Taylor’s favourite torture techniques, I unexpectedly felt the sadness and despair lift from me slowly. I couldn’t describe it but I was becoming fiercer and angrier as I named out every weapon and tool.

By the end, Ethan was a broken man, sobbing into my chest. I, however, was the man who was going to overcome my past and put my father straight to hell, where the bastard belonged.

Even if it killed me to do it.

This chapter was longer than I’d expected and obviously I haven’t posted in three weeks so I’m very nervous that it won’t live up to the wait! Harry’s past has been shown... what are your thoughts?

I tried to proofread this chapter as well as possible but it’s so long that I’m afraid some mistakes will have slipped through the cracks... I won’t bite your heads off if you point mistakes out xD

Sorry once again for the wait and I hope you enjoy!! X

-O