full throttle || h.s. ||

thirty-five || comfortable silence

the song for this chapter is "Oblivion," by Bastille :)

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF TOPICS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE, VIOLENCE. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 

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Finley

   I stretched my arms out above my head and looked around me. I was still in Leonardo's house, and it was still dark out. Judging by the bass booming underneath the floorboards, I judged that Harry and I had merely taken a power nap after our...strenuous activities.

   When I looked next to me, I was surprised to find that I was alone. Harry's side of the bed was wrinkled and worn in, signaling that he had at one point been there, but when I ran my palm across the sheets, I found that it was cold, meaning that he hadn't been there for a while.   

   I pushed the covers off of my body and stood up, only in my underwear. I glanced over at the desk to find my dress folded and sat on top of it, my heels placed neatly on the floor beneath it.

   I grabbed my clutch off of the back of the chair, blushing at the memories that occurred there, and fiddled around inside of it until I found the ratty old hair tie lying at the bottom of it, pulling it out, and securing my hair in a bun at the base of my neck, pulling out a few strings of hair in the front to frame my face.

   Next, I slipped my dress back on and strapped my heels around my ankles. I picked my phone out of my bag and sighed to find that it was dead. Wonderful.

   I had no idea what time it was, how long I had been asleep for, or where Harry was. I did know that I would much rather sleep at Harry's place, even if I had to sleep in the bed with him, than stay in this vast place that made me feel smaller and smaller each minute I inhabited it.

   I grabbed my things and headed for the door, pausing to check for Harry in the bathroom, but finding that, just like the bedroom, he wasn't there.

   I sighed and continued on out of the door, retracing my steps and following the increasing volume of the music until I found the staircase Harry had pulled me up earlier tonight and began walking down it.

   A few people were scattered throughout the foyer, the security man who awkwardly tried to deny Harry access to the upper levels giving me a quick and self-conscious nod as I walked past him, to which I responded by smiling at him sympathetically.

   Wandering back out to the pool area where most of the chaos still occurred, I felt the sudden need to have a drink.

   I headed over to the bar, thankful that I didn't have to run into Allister, at least not yet anyway, and ordered myself a Shirley Temple, my favorite drink. I liked it both spiked and nonalcoholic, the cherry taste always managing to soothe me with or without giving me a buzz.

   But right now, I wanted that buzz, and so I requested the alcoholic version. I thanked the bartender as he slid me my glass, wasting no time in pressing the cool glass to my lips and tilting it back to take a sip, my throat feeling warm upon contact with the liquid.

   As I stood by the bar, elbows propped up against the countertop, I suddenly felt a coldness wash over my body. It was a warm night, and there was no breeze to take the blame for this occurrence. 

   I glanced down at my arms and watched as the goosebumps rose to the surface of my skin, a physical reminder that what I had just felt was in fact real, and not a figment of my imagination.