Uncovered - H.S

Twenty Two. Shattered ivory keys.

Listen to "meet me in the hallway" - by Harry Styles

It's been a week, probably just a little longer but I honestly wouldn't be able to tell you just precisely how long.

To put it frankly, I felt like shit. I had this overcoming, overwhelming, over-fucking-powering feeling of anger at myself. I'd fucked up another good thing.

Yes, from my perspective Harry's reaction could've seemed unjustified and a little too harsh- but there was no way for me to see it like that.

I'd recognise that look in his eyes anywhere. It was hurt. I see it everytime I look into my reflection, it's practically been scratched into every pore and surface on my skin and each tiny coloured atom that made up my irises. Hurt becomes you, and I was in no place to judge how justified is actions were because that small question about his family could've meant everything to him.

But yet again I wouldn't know, because he hates me. I hate me, he can't hate me- he's the only person that makes me hate myself less.

And again yes, hate is a strong word. But it best suited how I felt about myself. How could I not feel this way, I'm a murdere-

"Angelina?"

Silence

"Angelina sweetie are you in there? Please come answer the door."

No fucking way.

I felt my eyes squeeze close, my hands balling into nervous fists at the voice I've somehow come to fear. It was my Mother.

It was like I had been zapped with some unknown power source that supercharged my actions once it dawned on me I had to open the door, and then proceed to let her in. There was absolutely no bone in my entire body that had the physical biological energy to open the door, but fear has it's owns battery- hence why I was scanning my living area to check its state before I unwillingly...let her in.

My apartment was nothing less than a depression pit of unwashed plates, unwashed laundry and an unwashed heart coated in black aching treacle, that I know would seep into my voice the moment I spoke aloud. Plus she was my Mother, and she knew me. Unfortunately.

I cleared my throat to prep my voice, wiping my clammy palms on the tops of my joggers whilst simultaneously trying to stop my surprised racing heart. This is going to be harder than I thought.

"Yep, yes I'm erm.. I'm here I'm just- give me one second Mother I've just gotten out the shower. Let me put some clothes on and I'll be right with you!"

Somehow I'd managed to calm the nervous shake in my voice, but obviously I didn't feel as calm as I sounded. I needed to act fast.

"Oh, well okay then. Hurry up please you know I don't like to wait dear." I heard her laugh briefly before it faded to a quiet hush the more I escaped the noise by running down the hallway, grabbing any piece of clothing I came across off the floor.

I nearly chucked myself into the laundry basket with the amount of force I threw all the clothes in there with, but that wasn't even the worst of it, dishes next.

I decided stripping from my dedicated "sad day"clothes whilst washing up was a good idea. But as you can guess I don't have many good ideas, this wasn't one of them.

So there I was shoving plates into the dishwasher, in my underwear, whilst trying not to make a noise because I was supposed getting dressed. Fucking brilliant.

"Ow what the fuck!" I whisper shouted as I hit my elbow on the door handle running back down to my bedroom. I shook my arm in pain trying to be as quiet as possible whilst scanning my wardrobe...that really hurt but no time for pain, this is a serious mission.