You've Got Hart

• Ellie Potter, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2017

Peter Hartley didn’t like to go outside. His damp city apartment with rusting locks and cold running water were perfectly fine, thank you very much. Perhaps perfectly fine would be far from the truth for those with expensive suits and a wretched curse for money. However, for Peter, his make do attitude hardly bothered him. In fact he despised the life of rapacious riches, things like his father’s unused Thirty Thousand dollar pen that sat next to a curved 100 inch TV in the second main living room of one of his old childhood homes. Most would have loved the life he and his family once had, but Peter had hated it. Where most had encouraging smiles and loving hugs Peter had furious glares and because of this Peter’s anxiety found comfort where most felt loneliness, preferring the presence of mumbled faraway voices which didn’t have to be responded to but instead simply listened to without the worry of piercing stares and inept conversations.
The echoing noise of an over exaggerated doorbell rung throughout the rooms of Peter’s apartment, causing him to flinch and become alert. His hand gripped tightly to his glowing mouse, staring at his computer screen with what seemed deep concentration, but yet his mind was focused elsewhere. Soon enough the ringing slowly faded, but yet Peter didn’t dare to let his worries escape. Taking a deep shallow breath and stroking his hand through his messy hair, Peter waited anxiously. It wasn’t till he realized that he was tapping his fingers on his desk to a non-existent beat that he comprehended how terrified he really was, and when the ringing cried again he closed his eyes, wishing whoever was at his door would just leave him alone.
“Hart?” A voice called from outside. The young man’s eyes sprung open, surprised by the familiar sounding tone.
The voice sounded like it belonged to the only person who hadn’t given up on him or cared about who he was, a voice he hadn’t heard for what seemed like years. It was rough and coarse but yet somehow friendly to the ears, like the sound of heavy rain pouring outside whilst sitting inside safe and warm by a fire. Unable to barely think Peter rushed off from his office chair and started sprinting awkwardly to the stairs as if his legs had a mind of their own.
Hardly taking even five steps down his apartment stairs the doorbell yelled out again, but this time Peter didn’t care. He turned a corner and stopped at his front door, staring at a blurred outline of a figure just beyond it. Opening the door he found himself looking up to a tall lean man. His skin was dark compared to his own and his hair was cut short. He wore camouflaged clothing covered in the smell of war. Gazing in disbelief they stared at one another, although before long Peter lunged to embrace him with a long forgotten smile stretched upon his face.