One Year Later

Harry's POV

Dustin Thomas. That was the name I had assigned myself while talking to a man with a suspect-looking moustache behind a decaying building, and soon enough a whole life was concocted for Dustin Thomas. There was a dead family, distant relatives, a passport, a social security number and so much more. It was a good deal, and meant that I could finally start my new life which I was still apprehensive about.

But months later I was living, surviving finally, and staying in a hostel that only charged a few pounds a day. It was covered in mould, the beds were hard and the company was less than friendly but it was away from the rain that seemed to pour non-stop outside. Every day for months I would visit the library when I wasn't working shifts at a pizza delivery place, and research the latest information about Smith.

It became an obsession, and almost like a game. At first there was lots of information about the burning down of the centre and Smith had given a few solemn statements about what a tragedy it was that his treatment centre had been reduced to ashes. I saw my obituary once, it was short and generic, and I could tell that no one missed me that much.

But it seemed like Smith had disappeared off the face of the planet, and there had been no recent information about him at all. Since starting my new life, I had created a blog which I ran from inside the library's walls where I was set on exposing other people like Smith and so far I had managed to dig deep enough to show the world what a few shifty people were actually like.

But I hadn't found anything substantial on Smith. I had even learnt how to hack my way into the dark web (the people I hung around weren't the most innocent people) but Smith was clear there too. I began to doubt myself, I began to doubt whether Smith really was bad. I had been obsessing for months about exposing him, and I hadn't stopped to question my motives.

I knew I was right. I knew Smith was corrupt to the core, all I had to do was prove it. One of my newfound 'friends' named Dexter had been hacking into police files for me, while a man I knew only as 'Z' was personally looking for information. For escaped criminals and hit men, they weren't that bad.

I had rolled with the wrong crowd before in my life, that had led me to the centre in the first place, but these people were different. They didn't get drunk or high, in fact most of the time they were coldly sober. The people I had begun to associate with were dangerous people, but they looked after me. They paid for my accommodation when I couldn't, they bought me food, and all I had to do was pass on a few grams of cocaine along the line every now and again.

It wasn't a perfect setup, but it sufficed me enough. They could get information on Smith that I couldn't even imagine. Stalking people seemed to be most of their expertise.

It was just turning dark as I made my way down the various back allies that had become familiar friends, and I breathed shallowly as to not taste the nicotine that hung in the air in a constant cloud of smoke. Dexter's house was hidden away from the rest of the world, and resembled the house of someone who had been hoarding for years.

He greeted me at the door, and I was subjected to the rancid smell of a house that had not been cleaned in years. Stacks of papers covered the floor, and I walked in behind him to the only empty part of his house- the office. I knew that underneath the piles of rubbish copious amounts of drugs were stored along with other illegal items, but I didn't question him about it.

"I'm sorry Harry, I couldn't find anything on Smith this time. He's as clean as they get, and there are no documents I can find that would incriminate him," he sighed and passed me over a thick file of paper containing all the information he had collected about Smith in the past few months.

I had set him the assignment of finding everything about Smith he could find only a few weeks after meeting him, and he had taken it as some personal mission. Flicking through the pages, I saw the same information that I already knew.

"What I did find that was interesting was that someone was actually held responsible for the fire you started," Dexter leaned back in his chair and gave me a faint smile, "This pyromaniac bitch, wack-job with this name I can't remember... It's... Umm.. Something..."

"Phoenix?" I breathed out in shock, and I could barely control the nerves that were shooting around my body.

I hadn't heard that name in so long, but the pain was just as fresh at hearing it again. I couldn't stand it if she had been given the blame for my actions, I couldn't be able to live with myself.

"That's the one. Instead of being locked up she was sent to a intensive psychiatric unit to get proper help."

And just like that my world came tumbling down once again.

So Harry has made this new life for him? A pretty corrupt new life, but what else can he do? But what will he do now that he knows he was reason Phoenix was placed in a new centre?

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