Like singing

Third person's pov ::

Harold's age: 15

With long strides, Marcel marched towards Helen with a muderous glare.

"Do not ever touch my things." He snatched the pack of white powder from her hand before putting it back to his drawer.

"What--" She was cut off by Marcel.

"Stop poking your nose everywhere, Helen." Marcel closed the door of his cupboard shut with a loud bang.

The mixture of anxiety and fear overwhelmed her, she just wanted answers to her question. So with enough courage she asked.

"Why is there a gun inside your drawer? And what is that white powder... is it drugs--"

"It's none of your business." He spun around as his back was now facing her.

She walked on the front to face him. "It is my business, I'm your wife."

"Not anymore." He stated curtly with a face of void emotions.

"What do you mean..not anymore?" She stammered, her lips trembled as fear engulfed her.

Without saying a word Marcel walked upto the bed towards his suitcase before pulling the front zipper open. He pulle