the song for this chapter is Everybody's Watching Me (Uh Oh) by The Neighbourhood

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I told you I would tell you everything you want to know
You want me to tell you now
You pressure me to shout it
Then to hear about it
To think that I would count you out

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Tate

   Harry and I were sat at his kitchen counter, both of us eating some oatmeal that he had made. Other than the clattering of our spoons, it was quiet, a typical circumstance between the two of us. 

   I felt like if I swallowed too loudly, Harry would be pissed, and that if he raised his glass of water too quickly, I would flinch. I had never been too keen on alcohol, but I swear, Harry's mood swings were about to drive me to drink.

One minute he was yelling in my face that I was a liar, the next he was making smartass remarks. He would go from cracking jokes to firing threats. He would be gently wiping away my tears and telling me that he didn't want to hurt me, and then, he would go into his most common state of all.

Ignoring me.

Honestly, at this point, I would be okay with the sarcastic little comments and rude humor as opposed to the awkward silence we were sat in. The quietness seemed to only make me more nervous, as I didn't know what was going through his mind. He just sat there, not making a sound, while frowning at something on his phone. 

   I had finished my food about five minutes ago, but Harry was too wrapped up in whatever was on his phone to notice. His oatmeal was growing colder, and the silence was at a painful volume.

I couldn't take it anymore.

"So...," I spoke, although I wasn't really sure where I was going with this. I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear, and lightly swung my legs back and forth on the barstool.

He turned towards me with a sour expression on his face, making me regret that I had opened my mouth.

"So...what?" He asked, giving me a weird look.

"So...what are we going to do today?" I asked, thinking that was a good place to start. I'm sure once he got started talking about work, I wouldn't be able to get him to shut up.

"Oh my gosh! Do you wanna go shopping or something?" He squealed in a fake girly voice, although as soon as he was done speaking he went back to the same serious expression he had been wearing before.

Ah, there's that sarcastic humor I had been hoping for.

"I'm serious," I huffed, staring him down.

"Well, princess, if you must know, the goal is to crack that first riddle you and Abel uncovered," He answered, pushing away his bowl of now cold oatmeal.

He seemed extra tense today, and I couldn't help but ask my next question.

"You only have a limited amount of time to get these answers, don't you?"

He looked shocked at my words, and dare I say, mildly impressed.

"Two months," he replied, nodding his head.

I reached for my glass of water, bringing it to my lips and tilting it back, finishing off its contents, before pushing my chair back and standing up.

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Let's get started," I stated, once again shocking him with my bold tone.

I walked into the living room area, plopping down on the big leather couch and curling my legs up behind me. I heard Harry washing the dishes, and a few minutes later the opening and shutting of cabinets, before he walked in to join me.

He sat on the end of the couch, a few feet away from me. He reached towards the coffee table and grabbed his laptop, opening it up and typing in his password, hiding the keyboard from me as I tried to peer over his shoulder.

"Nice try," he mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips. I huffed in annoyance and crossed my arms over my chest. 

  Once he found what he was looking for, he turned the screen so I could face it. I craned my neck to see and he scoffed, mumbling something under his breath before scooting closer to me so I could see better.

The same riddle Abel and I had found was displayed on the screen, the words still as cryptic to me now as when we had found them.

"Any ideas?" Harry asked, his voice a little less rude than usual.

I sighed, skimming my eyes over the screen, waiting to see if something would click. 

"I told you, Harry, I was so young when he died, I never really got to have a relationship with him," I spoke softly.

He took in a deep breath, reaching up to run his hand through his hair.

"You'll just know when you see it. You guys unlocked this by using one of his favorite poets' names, right? Are there any other poems or writers you can think of that might work?" 

"I mean, I know some of his other favorite writers, but none of them make sense with this riddle. I don't think the answer to this one is a name," I shrugged, looking up to meet his gaze, which looked frustrated and a little desperate. 

  I crossed my legs in front of me, putting one of my elbows on my knee, leaning forward to rest my chin in my palm, lightly drumming my fingers against my lips as I sat in deep thought, trying to find something...anything that would help.

   Without saying anything, I stood up, crossing my arms over my chest once again and beginning to pace around Harry's small living room. Harry watched me with curious eyes and a furrowed brow as I made laps around the room.

"What are you-" he started but I cut him off.

"Shh! I'm trying to think here!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms up in the air.

He widened his eyes and I thought he was going to be mad at me for using such a snappy tone with him, but instead, he smiled a little bit, chuckling lightly. 

"Sheesh, okay then. Carry on," he replied, raising his hand to gesture for me to continue. 

I returned to my pacing, scanning Harry's walls, looking at all of the pictures and decorations. I started to walk slower as I approached his bookshelf, running my hand across the spines of the books as I lazily trailed by them. I was surprised Harry had this many books, and I wondered if he actually read them, or if he was one of those people who just simply used them for decoration. 

   My finger skimmed across names like Hemingway, Shakespeare, and Homer, names that I was very familiar with, and enjoyed reading myself. I almost let out a laugh as I pictured Harry, huddled up on the couch reading things like Romeo and Juliet or the Odyssey, perhaps with a cup of tea in his hand. I shook the thoughts away. The only things I could see Harry doing in his free time were shooting people or stealing money from someone. I'm sure that things like that made him happier than a kid in a candy store. 

      I was snapped out of my thoughts when my finger landed on a book with no author, and nothing else on its spine. It was a sturdy leather-bound journal. I hovered there, and suddenly felt overwhelmed with a sense of familiarity. 

  My mind flashed back to when I was around seven or eight. It was one of the very few times that my mother and I had gone to visit my Uncle Nathan and Aunt Carol. They were living in London at the time, prior to my Aunt Carol deciding that the big city life wasn't for her, and they packed up and moved to a small town in Scotland. We had come over for dinner, although I'm not sure what the occasion was. The few times we went there were never for holidays or birthdays or anything of that sort, they were always random, which I never quite understood.

  I vividly remember being bored of all the grownup conversation and excusing myself from the dinner table. I wandered down the halls of their house, looking at all the elaborate paintings they had hung on the wall until I found myself in front of my uncle's study. 

   The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with books, and I found it absolutely amazing. I walked in slowly, not being able to comprehend how someone could have this many books. I strolled past all of the shelves, admiring the beautiful covers and smiling to myself. I stopped when I reached my uncle's desk, which only had one book on it.

A leather-bound journal.

I picked it up in my small hands, going to open it, but I couldn't. It was locked shut. The nosy childlike antics in me desperately wanted to know what was inside, and I scanned the desk trying to find the key, but it was nowhere in sight.

I remember being so startled by my Uncle Nathan's voice suddenly speaking.

"Tate! Don't touch that book sweetie!" He exclaimed with wide eyes, rushing over to take it out of my hands gently.

"Why not?" I asked, full of childlike curiosity and wonder.

He smiled and knelt down in front of me, brushing some hair out of my face.

"Because, Tate, this was your dad's journal. It's very special and we need to make sure it stays safe," he explained, using the universal voice that grownups used when talking to children.

I just nodded at him, even though I didn't understand.

"Is that why it's locked? To help keep it safe?" I asked.

"Yes, Tate, that's why it is locked. To keep it safe."

       I was snapped out of my thoughts by Harry's voice.

"What are you doing with that?" He asked, and I hadn't even realized that I had grabbed the journal, and was holding it in my hands staring at it blankly.

"Me?" I asked incredulously. "What are you doing with it?" 

He frowned at me in confusion, setting his laptop to the side and walking over to me, attempting to take the journal from my hands, but I clutched it tightly.

"Harry, why do you have my dad's journal?" I asked.

He laughed at me softly, although it didn't seem like he found the matter very funny.

"Tate, what the fuck are you talking about? That's not your dad's journal. That's my dad's journal," he replied.

"No, Harry, it isn't. That's impossible. My dad had this same journal, with the same lock on it and everything," I replied warily. 

He shook his head, refusing to believe it. "Lot's of people have journals, Tate. Besides, it's probably not the same journal, I don't even have the key for my dads," he chuckled lightly.

  I felt nauseous, my head beginning to feel all fuzzy inside.

"My dad's didn't have a key either," I replied cooly, lifting my eyes up to connect with his, which looked just as confused as I felt.

"Harry, what does your dad do for a living?" I asked, praying that he would say he was a businessman somewhere, blissfully unaware of his son's secret life as a trained assassin, and that Harry visited him as much as he could, and that he was a jolly old man.

But that's not what he said.

"My dad died when I was just a baby," he answered, and although he was looking at me it seemed like his mind was somewhere else.

"How?" I asked softly.

"I don't know," he replied, looking down at the floor.

"What does this have to do with anything?" He suddenly snapped, as if he had realized he had let his guard down, and immediately put it back up. 

I shrugged, not understanding how he didn't find this to be the slightest bit weird, and then I froze.

"Oh my gosh," I breathed, walking over to his laptop, sitting down on the couch and placing it on my lap.

"Hey, hands off!" He spoke, walking over to take it from my hands, but I pulled it away.

"Harry, stop! I need to read this again!" I snapped at him, causing him to throw his hands up defensively, before coming to sit down next to me.

"You must go back to simpler times, back to your roots. By journeying to the past, you will find what you need. You will find the answers, you will find the key," I read aloud.

"Okay, Dr. Suess, what does it mean?" Harry asked sarcastically, crossing his arms and slumping back into the couch.

I looked at him like he was stupid, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Harry, my dad's journal had a lock on it. I saw it at my uncle's house when I was little, and he told me that it was very special, and that it was locked in order to keep it safe. The thing is though, I didn't see a key anywhere in sight for it," I explained, and Harry still looked lost.

I sighed before continuing, "The riddle says to go back to your roots, and journeying to the past, right?" 

He nodded slowly, "Okay, so...what?"

"So...my dad's journal has all the riddles in it. And the key that the riddle talks about, is literally the key to the journal," I exclaimed, feeling relief as all the pieces started to come together.

He stood up, rubbing his hands together. "Okay, great, let's go get the journal then," he sighed.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Harry, we have to get the key first."

He groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Please tell me you know where to find the key then," he huffed, peering at me.

A small grin began to creep onto my face as I nodded my head.

"Yeah, I think I do."

AN: WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW!! AHHHHHHH THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GET TEN TIMES MORE INTERESTING AND I CANNOT WAIT FOR YOU GUYS TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS! DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! ILY ALL! xx