seventy two

                                    

                                          
chapter seventy two - homesick
Lucy Caddel
My life was composed of lies. It's filled to the brim. Discovering each lie was like slipping on the overflow.
On top of this, Harry's lying was a whole other thing. But he found something vital to this investigation. All along, I had thought my uncle was the good guy in this. The one trying to find the culprit. But it turns out, he was the culprit. And not the only one either. My father was somehow involved, which led me to believe there was a third. And that third was potentially Harry's father. Talk about a mess.
"I forgot to mention, Folan and Samantha called us in again," I told Harry as we parked in Zayn's driveway.
"For the same reason?" He frowned.
"No, Samantha wanted us to go to the tech department in facility 7. But Folan said The Capitol." 
"Who do you think we should go to?" Harry asked, walking up the stairs of Zayn's porch.
I shrugged knowing this was the last thing on my mind right now. My home was being stalked and watched like a hawk. I was unable to visit at any time until it was in the all-clear. And god knows how long that could be. All my belongings were at stake from the people I thought I could trust with them, yet that trust was now broken. Dropped like glass on cold, hard ground. The feeling of homesickness had a new meaning to me now.
"It's up to you." I finally responded with.
"We can go to Samantha first because she's the closest." He turns to Zayn. "Can we borrow your car?"
"Go for it, just be safe." Zayn tossed Harry the car keys before he unlocked the front door.
"Can I get changed out of these clothes first? They smell like the hospital." I asked, feeling the worn clothes rub against my skin. I was at that point in time when I just wanted a fresh start for myself. Move away and leave everything behind. That was the difference between a dream and its reality.
"I'll wait out here," Harry spoke as I walked through the door.
The house was cold and honestly, I missed it. Even if it was just as cold outside, something about the cold air of Zayn's house offered comfort. The bedroom was still the same as what I had left it. The bed cover was pulled up to cover the ruffled sheets from the restless night I had. One of my bags was sat neatly in the corner with a pile of folded and washed clothes beside it, courtesy of Zayn.
I made my way over and picked up the first long-sleeved item and pants I saw. A thick navy sweater and loose black jeans. Getting undressed really made my skin shiver with the bleak air sweeping against it. I sucked through my teeth as I adjusted to the room temperature which drew out the feeling of my hands. It was numbing from head to toe. I believed a lot of how I felt was influenced by my nerves and uncertainty about what was to come.
Once I was dressed in somewhat warmer clothes, I returned to the front porch. Passing Zayn on the way, I bid him farewell in hopes it wouldn't ever be another hospital trip for the next time we see each other.
Harry was still standing where I had left him, hands shoved in the pockets of his black slacks and black blouse unbuttoned at the top. The sleeves were rolled up to cover three-quarters of his arm but he never showed any symptoms of feeling cold. Did he ever get cold?