Harry Styles Dirty Imagines

Give Me Love

I sit on my bed, staring straight at the creme-colored wall of my bedroom opposite of my bed. My eyes have lost the redness and puffiness from crying, the tears now long dried onto the flushed skin of my cheeks.

Every time I see his face flash across my mind, I take a swing of the odd yet effective combination of Vodka, beer, Whiskey, and Rum mixed together into the glass beer bottle. In the other hand, I hold what I think to be my eighth cigarette, and I'm gripping onto both objects as if they were the only things that were keeping me alive.

Come to think of it, they probably are. Every time I think of him, the heavy cloud of emotions that is suspended over me crashes down onto me, threatening to suffocate me under the ruthless, painful memory.

The substance of alcohol I hold and a long drag from the nicotine seems to be the only thing that can fix it. No. It does not fix it; it suspends it again.

It numbs my ability to feel into nothingness, and allows me to go without crying. But only so for a limited amount of time, and when I feel the truth plummeting towards me yet again, I lift the bottle to my lips, letting the poison flood my senses.

Even if it is only for a short amount of time, it is relief none-the-less. Just a few hours ago, I was walking over to my boyfriend--Logan's--house to surprise him with a movie and some snacks so we could spend some quality time together. I had no idea of what I would find, but I was definitely not expecting what I did find.

Everything had been going so well. Being with Logan felt right--I felt happy and filled with life. He made me laugh, he made me smile, and everything seemed to be perfect.

How stupid I was to think that, now I know.

When I walked into his house with the spare keys he'd given me, excited to bring him the small yet lovely surprise, I found him on the couch, yes, but under him was a girl I had never seen before.

She was blonde, tall, beautiful. She was wearing a short black dress that clung to her tanned legs, and her exquisitely manicured fingers were clinging to Logan's neck as he kissed her. That was when I'd gained the dark cloud of pure pain and torture that was hanging over me now.

Without making a sound, I managed to leave Logan's house unnoticed. I ran to my car and threw everything into the back seat, and slammed closed the car door just as I burst into tears. Heart-broken sobs emitted from my body as I trembled with the weight of what I'd just seen pressing down onto my chest, wrapping its fingers around my throat and preventing me from breathing.

I'd been an idiot. A fucking idiot.

Why had I thought that this time would be any different?

All of my nineteen years of life, I've had a total of three boyfriends, including Logan. All of them had cheated on me, now including Logan. It seems that all of the gambles I took at finding love laughed in my face, throwing what I had worked so hard to find right in front of me and killing it off as if it was nothing. All I wanted was to have someone to love me as much as I loved them, but by the looks of all my past situations, it wasn't going to be happening soon.

Tonight, I'd done something I'd never done before.

When I had managed to calm myself down some, I had rested my head against the steering wheel, taking deep breathes to slow my escalated heart rate. I wiped away at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, and with that, all of my sanity for the night. I turned on the ignition, and backed out of the parking lot, headed straight for the nearest liquor store. I'd rarely ever had alcohol. I'd just never liked it. It didn't have a good taste, and it only made my head pound--and that was only from having half a bottle of beer.