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Or someone.
The sickening thought caused a wave of nausea to shoot through me as I thought of the note. My eyes drifted to the underside of the bed again and I threw myself on my stomach, looking under the dark mattress. If there was rope there, maybe there were more answers.
A few small storage boxes lay under there and I grabbed the nearest one, pulling it out as I shuffled back. I flicked the small layer of dust off the top before popping open the lid.
The cardboard box was filled with papers and photos, and I carefully grabbed the top one and unfolded it. The same dark handwriting was scribbled on it and I swallowed back the bile as I read the note.
I’M GOING TO BREAK YOU, HARLOW. WE’RE GOING TO BE SO GOOD TOGETHER. I CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR YOU SCREAM AS I MAKE YOU BLEED FOR ME.
Shakily, I threw the note down and grabbed the next. And the next. And the next.
The room was spinning as I read all the different ways this sick fuck planned to hurt her, how much he wanted her.
Harlow was in danger. And we had all isolated her, turned our backs on her.
“Fuck!” I hissed, shoving the box away with anger. The contents spilled all over the floor as I sat back against the wall again.
I was a fucking asshole.
I had to do something. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.
I stared at the screen on my phone.
“Just press dial, you moron,” I sneered at myself, before finally pressing the green button.
The phone rang a few times and I was actually surprised when I heard the phone pick up at the other end.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” came the disgruntled voice.
Okay – I deserved that. I cleared my throat.
“Finn,” I muttered, ego still swinging enough not to cower away even though I knew I was completely in the wrong. “I need to talk to you. Are you able to meet up?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I heard him sigh in frustration.
“To be honest Dex, I’m not overly keen to see you.”
My jaw ached as my teeth clenched, and I desperately fought the urge to call him a wanker.
“Listen, it’s about Harlow.”
The line went silent before Finn spoke again. “I don’t want to see her either.”
Okay, that was news to me. Especially since Harlow had wanted his number.
Or maybe that’s why she had wanted his number.
Right. I was officially the worst fucking person.
“She’s in danger, Finn. I’m not sure of all the details, but I think she needs our help.”
“What do you mean ′she’s in danger’?” came his immediate response. I could hear the sense of urgency in his voice and couldn’t help but feel hopeful that perhaps I could persuade him yet.
I took a breath. “I think someone is trying to hurt her. But not only that. She...” I stopped, unsure of how to put the thoughts into words.
“I’m on my way over,” came the reply before the phone clicked off.
A wave of relief washed over me and I sat and waited. Each passing second felt like hours but there was nothing more I could do.
I rushed to my feet as soon as I heard the knock. Part of me was on guard, immediately ready for a fight but I reminded myself we were meeting for a common interest: Harlow’s safety.
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Finn.
“Can I help you?” I asked in annoyance. It was that guy that I had seen Harlow kissing. Or about to kiss.
Fuck! Every time I thought I had a handle on my stupid feelings, new shit decided to test me.
The guy stared back at me, his face blank as he appeared equally as excited to see me.
“Is Harlow here?” he replied, crossing his arms.
I put my arm out on the door frame, blocking the entrance. “No.”
I could see his face running through his options and words, and I tensed up again. Would I fight this wanker? Abso-fucking-lutely.
He cleared his throat. “Do you know where she is? I just wanted to check on her before work. I’m ... worried.”
The usual pang of jealousy was there, but it was also masked by the concern I had. Even more so that random people were turning up looking for her, also concerned.
I stepped back, pointing my thumb back towards my living room. “Come in.”
He briefly hesitated before stepping in, and I closed the door behind us. I stared at him as he stopped in the middle of the living room.
“I’m Bryson, Harlow’s work friend. Well, former colleague.”
A lightbulb went off in my mind as I remembered stories Harlow had told me about her job... amongst other things.
“You went to the city dinner with her,” I stated.
Bryson nodded, his eyebrows narrowing as he also recalled that night. “I did,” he confirmed.
“So,” I said, eyes staring at her bedroom door, “not just a random hook-up the other day.”
Surprise and apprehension crossed his face. “No. She spilled her coffee on me and was kind enough to help me get cleaned up. That’s all.”
More fucking guilt.
