Unexpected

25. Harry

It wasn't easy, it wasn't easy at all. I've never had the courage to tell all this to anyone, to show myself so weak. I don't want people to think I'm the way I am because of my past. But this is also my character, that story then contributed.

My father, that bastard, told me all sorts of things, that I am not worth anything, that no one would fight for me, that I did not deserve the love and attention of my mother, that no one will ever love me.

I came home more annoyed than usual, only plus I had two or three glasses of whiskey around noon. I racked my brain thinking about my dad's words, then Helen went through my head as I thought about it... and I freaked out.

I hate her, but when I do I almost always have a hint of a smile on my face. Because, fuck, I would fight for her, if someone dared to touch her or hurt her... I'd do anything to prevent that from happening. But would she, or anyone else, do it for me? I'd like to believe so.

I know she's different, I feel it every time she looks at me, talks to me and touches me; she is not like the others. I'm a jerk for noticing just now. She has better things to think about, friends, a beautiful family, her career. I want her to think of me as just fun, I know I'm not good enough for her, and I'm not going to drag her with me through my mess.

But right now I don't care, because while she kisses me gently, I feel in heaven. Her lips on mine are soft and delicate this time, she acts as if she is trying to comfort me.

"Helen..." I sigh between kisses. She pulls away from my lips but our faces are still very close, and I tell her, "You don't have to worry about me."

Her hands — which were on the back of my neck just now — are on my cheeks, she strokes me gently with her thumbs. "I want you to feel special, to learn to be the best version of yourself, to feel loved." She smiles. "What's up?"

"I don't know how to feel this way."

She gives me a quick kiss on the lips, surprising me. "One day you'll know, you'll find that person who will make you feel like you are her whole world."

"You know what?" I tell her by putting a lock of hair behind her ear; she shakes her head. "You're amazing."

She throws her head back and laughs. Shit, her laugh... her laugh is beautiful. And her smile, bright as it is, even more so.

Sometimes I wonder if the game we're playing is who falls in love first loses. The more I look at her, the more I begin to think that I'm slowly losing.

I'm kissing her neck, with the intention of leaving a hickey, she moans softly, when my phone rings in my pocket. I turn it off without even looking at who it was.

A few seconds later, it rings again when one of my hands is about to reach the point between her thighs and her crotch.

My cell phone rings a third time, so Helen tells me to answer, she thinks it must be important.

"Hello?"

A wheezing woman responds. "Are you Henry? Davis's son?"

Helen looks at me confused when I answer yes.

"You have to run home immediately— your mother— she— I don't know how, maybe you can help me."

"What the fuck is going on?" I make Helen move and she sits in her place. I fasten my belt and start the engine.

"Kate!" she shouts my mother's name. "Don't!" Then she speaks to me again: "Please hurry." She ends the call.

I have no idea what the hell is going on. I know the voice of that woman, she is our neighbor, but I don't remember her name now. I am worried, I feel the blood tremble in my veins.

What could've happened?

Helen is silent, probably confused — like me. Why am I taking her with me? I should've left her at the party but anxiety took over; I'm scared.

"Harry," she says suddenly, in a low voice, and puts her hand on mine, which is on the gearbox, to stop my trembling fingers. "What happened?" she then asks me.

"What the fuck do I know," I snap, but my voice is trembling.

After that, she remains silent, she's understood that it's the best thing.

My home is in Seattle, but in a completely different area from the university, there is a little way to go.

My mom's mental health got worse after that time, which is why I don't know what to expect. She fell into depression, and our relationship changed from that point on. She is still my mother and I love her, except that she has never felt happy, loved or important, just a burden; she is always afraid that people will hurt her, even those who apparently love her, she doesn't leave the house except to go to work... all this breaks my heart.

It's my father's fault. Or mine. I don't know.

No. It's my father's fault. He was the one who took a knife and pointed it at her throat. He was the violent one. He destroyed a family, just because he's a fucking selfish.