Illusion

Chapter 7

Avery's POV

I toss and turn, unable to get comfortable. My usually fluffy mattress, now seeming like I was lying on a bed of rocks.

I huff exasperatedly, kicking the duvet off my legs aggressively. My eyes pop open and I'm met with my dark room. Laying on my back and staring up at my ceiling, I face the reality that sleep would not be possible.

My active mind flashes terrifying images through my mind. However these weren't just images, they were memories.

My breathing picks up and I can feel my heart beginning to race. I squint my eyes shut tight and shake my head, desperate to stop the inpour invading my brain.

It was enough having to live through the experience once, let alone be bombarded every time I shut my eyes.

I swing my legs over the edge of my queen sized bed, too restless to stay still any longer. I open my eyes, looking up at the ceiling and try to get oxygen into my lungs, but the images become more prominent, threatening to overwhelm me.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. 5:20am.

I am so tired, but not just from lack of sleep. I'm tired of feeling scared. And being around Harry makes me scared. I always shy away from things, or stay quiet. I let people talk over the top of me and don't push back.

Ever since I was little I've been quiet. Some things are just better if you don't fight them.

Flashbacks from my childhood begin to creep in from the darkest corners of my mind and I try with everything I have to push them back. I've kept them at bay for so long, I can't afford to lose it now.

I feel the tears start to well in my eyes. Please Avery, not today. Not after everything you've been through. Not after everything you've seen.

I don't understand why Harry had been questioning that man, let alone why he punched him so graphically. I don't understand what I saw, but I do know that it was bad enough for Harry to violently threaten me.

I gingerly touch my bruised neck, still being able to feel his strong hand gripping my throat, his cold metal rings digging into my skin.

I shake my head, desperately not wanting to focus on what happened any longer. I need to forget what I saw. I need to move on. I need to...

My ears ring with the sound of Harry's fist connecting with the tiled bathroom wall.

I jump up, forgetting sleep and heading straight for the shower. Maybe getting to work early will clear my mind.

I run my fingers through my hair as I watch the suds trail down my body, forming a little mound of bubbles around my feet, the water carefully whirling it around before sucking it down the drain. My eyes stay mesmerised as I try to keep my mind on anything but my thoughts. Anything but how I feel. Anything but him.

I open the misty shower door, stepping into the steam filled bathroom and grab my yellow towel from the rack. Encompassing my body in the fluffy warmth, I quickly brush my teeth. My mind focuses on each action that I do, systematically stepping out each process to keep my mind occupied. I count my steps as my feet patter over to the closet, my fingers labelling each item of clothing as I skim through the coat hangers.

I settle on a long sleeve black turtleneck to hide the bruising on my neck, and a pair of jeans. Quickly tugging them on, I make my way back to the bathroom to brush my hair and blow dry it. My stomach feels sick, my head sore, but I simply focus on putting on some mascara, eye liner and lipgloss. My fingers rake through my hair, making it look slightly windswept and natural. I can't afford to focus on what Harry did to me. It scares to even think about.