thirty-five || freeze frame

the song for this chapter is, "House Of The Rising Sun," by The Animals :)


***********


There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
Dear God, I know I was one


~


Oh mother, tell your children
Not to do what I have done
Don't spend your life in sin and misery
In the House of the Rising Sun


***********


Harry




    Tate's uncle's house was very nice. It was a medium-sized house, the outside was a simple white wood. But the inside was beautiful, filled with various trinkets and elaborate decorations and paintings, it was quite the collection.


     Will and I both had our earpieces in, gloves on, and hoods pulled over our heads as we entered the house, using the utmost delicateness to make sure that the only thing that would be out of place would be the journal.  


    We crept throughout the first floor of the house, our eyes hovering across the different rooms as we searched for the journal.


    "What about that room?" Will suddenly asked, pointing towards a door down the hallway.


   "Let's check it out," I replied, leading the way.


      The door was barely open, and I used my gloved hand to gently push it back. 


     This was definitely the place.


      It was a study, but the walls were covered floor to ceiling with books. All of the various colors of their spines seeming to give the room life of its own.  The few patches of the walls that weren't covered with books were painted a dark blue color, with very lightly feathered strokes of white paint, giving it a cloud-like effect. 


     There was a large mahogany desk, trimmed with swirls of gold, I guessed that it was probably an antique, everything I had seen so far in this house seemed to have its own story. I quite liked it. It was extravagant, but not in the way that Whit had decorated the Fort. Whit's way of decorating was modern and sleek and seemed to scream power. This house was clearly filled with very expensive things, but it was so beautiful. Everything was so unique, and it didn't seem intimidating, it was inviting. As though each item in the house was beckoning you to come to sit and learn the history behind it. 


    For a moment, I found myself wishing that I was here under different circumstances...a small part of me wishing that everything in my life was different.


    I found myself wishing that I wasn't involved in this kind of lifestyle. Wishing that I was here with Tate, visiting her family, perhaps having dinner with them, and then strolling the halls while her uncle told me about each item in his personal menagerie of a house. 


   But I had to block those thoughts out, and come back to reality, which was that I was a killer, and I was not here to learn about her uncle, I was here to steal from him. 


    Just like I had stolen Tate from her mother, from her life.


  Right when my mind was about to drift to thinking about Tate, Will nudged me with his shoulder.


   "You good, mate?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me.


  I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, okay, let's find this journal. I'll check the left side, you check the right. Be looking for a brown leather journal, with a lock on it," I instructed, and Will nodded before heading over to the right side of the room. 


   I made my way over to the left side of the room, staring up at the countless books covering the walls. My own collection of books at my flat beginning to seem insignificant compared to this one. 


    I did my best not to get distracted, fighting off the urge to admire each book individually, and instead, looking for the journal. My finger scanned the rows, my eyes quickly flitting back and forth as I tried to find what I was looking for.


     Once I finished looking through the first section of books, I moved on to the next, the different colors of the books all beginning to fade into one as I searched for the journal. 


    I was on the second to last shelf, about to move on to the next, when my finger stopped. It trailed up and down the smooth leather spine, and I felt a smile growing on my lips.


   I gingerly slid it out from the shelf, seeing the identical lock to my own father's journal staring back at me.


    I stood up straight and turned around to face Will, who was still scanning the bookshelves on the other side of the room. 


   "I've got it," I called out, and he spun around to look at me clutching the journal in my hand, waving it around triumphantly.


    A satisfied grin appeared on his face.


    "Thank goodness, I was starting to get dizzy looking through all this shit. I don't understand why someone would have so many books," he laughed.


    "Some people actually like to read," I shrugged.


   Will chuckled at my reply. "Oh right, sorry, I forgot, you're a bit of a bookworm yourself, aren't you Styles?"


     I rolled my eyes as he taunted me. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hand me one of the books from the desk, I'm going to put it back here to fill the empty slot," I instructed, pointing to the various stacks of books surrounding the perimeters of the large desk.


   Will's large frame strolled over to the desk and grabbed a book from one of the many stacks, tossing it over to me, and I caught it with my free hand.


   I turned around and went back over to the middle shelf of books, crouching down and then sliding the new book in the journal's previous place. 


    When I stood up and turned to face Will, I saw that he was still standing by the desk, but now he was holding a picture frame in his hand, laughing a little bit.


   "What is it?" I asked, walking over to meet him, my brows furrowed.


   "It's Tate, I think. As a kid. Just a funny picture," he chuckled, turning the frame in my direction so that I could see it. 


   I couldn't help but smile along with him as I looked at it. It was Tate, she looked to be around six or seven. Her hair was in long braids, and she had on a pair of white overalls, with a lavender-colored long sleeve shirt on underneath. The pant legs of the overalls were rolled up, exposing her scrunched up cream-colored socks, which had gold glittery stars scattered across them. She was wearing a pair of white high top converses. In the picture, she had her fingers in her mouth, pulling it wide so that she could stick her tongue out, and her eyes were crossed. 


   She was sat in a field, little wildflowers peppering the green grass around her. The sky was bright blue, and the perfect amount of fluffy clouds danced in the sky above her, the sun streaming down and lighting up her happy face. 


    She looked like such a goofball. She looked so happy, so innocent. My heart lurched as I thought about how if she hadn't been dragged into this mess, maybe she would still be the same blissfully ignorant child that I saw in this photograph.


    And I couldn't help but wonder if my mother hadn't been killed if perhaps I would be the same happy little kid that I once was as well.


     "Hey, I just...I wanted to apologize again, for everything," Will spoke, causing me to snap out of my own thoughts and look up at him, but his eyes were still trained on the photograph.


    "She doesn't deserve this, any of it. And I am sorry that I made her already traumatic experience worse," he mumbled, as he stared at the picture of a once carefree Tate.


    I sighed and brought my hand up, lighting clamping it onto his shoulder, squeezing it gently so that he would look at me.


    His blue eyes drifted over to my green ones, and we just stared at each other in silence for a moment.


   When you've been in this line of work for as long as we have, it was a lot easier to assume that everyone and everything was the enemy. It was strange to see any show of empathy in people like us, and so whenever it did happen, I think it was rather frightening. We had spent years draining ourselves of any basic human emotion because we had to, we had to in order to survive the deaths and destruction we had caused. 


   There is a saying, it goes along the lines of, "hurting people hurt people," and that was exactly what we were, although none of us would dare to admit it. Some people got into this line of work for the money, others got into it purely because they were just evil, and then there were people like us. Me, Abel, Will, and Niall, hurt people, who had nothing else in life to live for, and so we let the emotions we once had within us die, just like everything and everyone else around us already had. 


    "It's okay," I replied softly, and that was all I needed to say. He knew how much meaning was behind the two simple words I had spoken, there was no need for me to elaborate. 


   He nodded his head at me slowly, before putting the picture frame back in its previous position on the desk. 


   "You ready?" he asked, and I nodded in reply, clutching the journal in my hand, and following him as he made his way out of the study. 


   I carefully pulled the door back so that it was barely opened, just as it had been before we had entered it, before turning around and beginning to walk down the hall. 


   My eyes scanned over the various pictures and paintings that decorated the walls as we walked, smiling to myself whenever I saw a picture of a younger Tate. We were almost at the end of the hall when I saw something that made me stop in my tracks.


    I turned to face the wall and to stare at the thing that had made me feel as though time itself had stopped. 


    Will must have noticed, as I stopped hearing his footsteps shortly after I had halted my own. 


  "Harry? What is it?" He asked, but I couldn't reply. I heard him let out a sigh, and soon enough, his footsteps resumed, growing louder as he approached me. 


    I felt his hand rest on my shoulder, but even that couldn't make me teat my eyes away from the picture staring back at me. 


    It was a smaller frame, insignificant compared to the large pieces of artwork that were placed around it, but it was the only one that I could seem to see, the other painting and photographs on the walls seeming to fade away as I zeroed in on the smaller photograph in front of me. 


    "That's my dad," I breathed out.


   "What the fuck?" I heard Will ask softly, disbelief evident in his voice.


  But there was no denying that the man in the photograph was my father.


   He sat at a table, with another man. They both had an arm looped around each other's shoulders, smiling happily as they both raised a champagne glass in the air, bits of the liquid spilling out and onto the table cloth, which was covered with gold and silver decorations, most likely a new year's celebration or something like that. 


   My father and the mystery man were both dressed in black tuxedos and seemed to be the best of friends. My heart was thumping wildly in my chest. I had of course seen photographs of my father before, but they were in my own home. I knew that obviously he must have had some relation to Tate and her family, but it was a strange feeling to see a picture of my dad hanging in the halls of someone whom I had never met. 


    I snapped out of my daze and pulled my phone out of my pocket, quickly taking a picture of the photograph on the wall, before slipping it back into my pocket. 


    But as soon as my phone was in my pocket, it began to ring. I sighed and quickly reached down to grab it again, peering down to read the name lighting up my screen.


   It was Abel. 


I answered the phone and pressed it against my ear, peeking over to see Will still staring at the photograph, looking just as confused as I felt.


    "Abel, what's up? We are about to head out-"


  "Harry, something happened," Abel cut me off, and I immediately felt my heart plummet to my feet at his words. 


    My mouth suddenly felt very dry as I attempted to croak out a response.


 "W-What happened?"


    My words caused Will to snap his attention over to me, looking at me with his brows furrowed. 


 "It's Tate. She...She's been taken-" As soon as the first few words left his mouth, everything around me began to fade. I felt my phone beginning to slip out of my grip, but before it plummeted to the ground just as my heart had, Will lurched his arm hand forward and grabbed it, bringing the phone to his ear.


    "Abel? What is it?" He asked into the phone, and I watched as his eyes grew big. 


  "We're coming right now," he spoke into the phone, before ending the call.


  "Harry," he spoke.


    I tried to respond, but the words just wouldn't come out, as I felt rage beginning to fill the place where my heart once was. 


   "Harry!" He shouted, snapping me out of my daze. I turned to him, fuming as I felt my nostrils flare. Will took a step back as he saw the sudden change in my demeanor.


     I didn't reply to him, instead, I just began to march through the house, and he followed close behind.


    I stormed out of the back entrance we had used and made my way to the car. I walked past the car that Will and I had driven, and Will called out to me.


   "Harry, what are you-"


  "You can drive that fucking car! I'm riding with them!" I seethed, shutting Will up quickly, and he pulled the keys out of his pocket, glancing back at me one last time in concern, before getting in the driver's seat.


   I turned back around and continued towards the car that Abel and Niall were in, flinging open the back seat and climbing in, slamming the door closed behind me.


     Abel and Niall turned towards me, looking visibly afraid as they took in the sight of me, steam practically rising off of my skin as the anger I had within me continued to rise, reaching a boiling point. 


   "What the fuck happened?" I snapped.


   "We were on the phone, a-and...and she said she heard someone. It turns out she did. At least three guys had broken into the house, and they were looking for her," Abel began, looking scared to continue as he stared at me. 


    He gulped before speaking again as I stared at him expectantly. "She got the gun though, and she shot someone," he explained, and even amidst all of my anger, I couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of her.


    She was so much stronger than she even realized...than I even realized.


  "She got out of the house I think though, but she got stopped by a different man. But...but I think she was trying to leave us a clue. She still had the phone in her pocket while all of this was happening."


    "What was the clue?" I asked, my jaw aching as I spoke from how tightly I had been clenching it.


  I heard Niall clearing his throat, and so I shifted my focus over to him.


   "We heard her say that one of the men was the man from the market," he replied.


  "What man?" I asked, not following.


     Niall sighed and twisted around further in his seat. "When we were at the market, some guy bumped into Tate. He tried to talk to her, and so I was going to break it up, but she managed to cut it off herself. But she told Abel that she had seen some guy jogging past the safe house a few times, and I think it was him," he finished.


     I curled my hands into fists on my lap, every muscle in my body tensing up ten times more than they already had been.


    "So, do you know who this man is? What he looked like?" I asked through gritted teeth.


    Abel nervously adjusted his glasses, before opening his mouth to speak. 


  "Not yet. But I can get the security footage of the market from that day, and we can get a better look at him, and then I can run his face through some facial recognition software."


   "What did she say after that?" I asked, gripping my fists even tighter.


     "He called her pretty and smart, and she called him arrogant and a total fucking prick," Niall replied, and I couldn't help but grin for a moment.


  That's my girl.


  Abel and Niall cracked faint smiles too, and I knew that this was hurting them just as much as it was hurting me. 


    "Anything else?" I sighed, trying to use a calmer tone this time. 


  Both of their faces fell.


    "What?" I asked, feeling concern rise inside of me.


  "We couldn't hear anything after that. All we heard was..." Abel trailed off, looking to Niall for support.


    Niall stared back at Abel, a pained expression on his face.


  "What? You heard what?" I cried out, looking back and forth between them frantically.


   "We heard a gunshot. Then the line went dead," Niall finally replied, still staring at Abel, refusing to make eye contact with me as the words left his lips.


    My stomach twisted inside of my body at his words. And it took me a second before I was able to form any words.


     I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath, before opening them again.


 "She's okay, she has to be," I whispered, more to myself than to them.


     I suddenly felt a hand upon my own, and I opened my eyes to see Abel's hand placed over one of my balled-up fists. 


     "We're gonna find her. We're gonna find who did this..." he assured me.


       Niall then reached back and placed his own hand on my other fist. 


  "And we're going to make them pay," he added, nodding at me with a serious expression. 


     I shook my head at them and they both gave me puzzled expressions.


  "No. We are going to do far worse than that," I began, and small smirks began to appear on their faces.


     A smirk of my own began to spread across my lips, as I looked at them, and they waited for me to finish.


   "By the time we are done with them, they are going to wish that they were never fucking born."








AN: AHHHHH WHAT AN INTENSE CHAPTER! I REALLY LOVED WRITING THIS AND I HOPE THAT YOU ENJOY READING IT! I HOPE YOU ARE ALL AS EXCITED AS I AM FOR THE REST OF THIS STORY! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THE LOVE AND SUPPORT YOU HAVE SHOWN ME! YOU GUYS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU ALL THINK! xx



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