Altered. [Harry Styles]

05.

TW: Body dysmorphia, domestic violence, child abuse/neglect, mentions of blood.

Josie.

"I don't pay the god damn water bill for you to sit in there and try to drown all of your pitiful fuckin' sorrows, Josie!" Cole's voice roars on as I catch my reflection in the gold doorknob.

In the little golden globe, my reality is warped into a perspective where the world revolves around me, and the background is minimized with less importance.

For the first time in years, I see myself.

Espresso-brown locks of hair hits near my rib cage, an opposite contrast from the white towel clinging to my figure. My skin is porcelain, lacking natural vitamin D from the sun. Blood pools beneath the surface of my skin as the heavy hand of a cruel artist covers me in watercolors that blend together in ungodly shades of purples, blues, yellows, and greens. The bruises cascade down my neck, where they lose their fingerprint shapes to the marks of altercations where I wasn't quick enough to dodge a fist.

My collarbones protrude more than they used to, as do my cheekbones. I've always credited my quick weight loss from the past few years to the change in lifestyle, but nobody has ever read between the lines to know that the change in lifestyle includes getting punched to the point I vomit up the contents of my stomach or too depressed to bring a fork full of food to my mouth.

Cole always told me I would be prettier if I was skinnier anyway.

"I'm not going to ask again, Josie!" He starts twisting the knob again, corrupting myself reflection, but his attempted invasion is interrupted by a loud cry from Evie. A high-pitched shriek brings us both to a halt, waiting to see if she calms herself down before taking any action.

It's safe to assume she heard Cole violating the integrity of my door. Her cries get louder as the seconds pass by, my heart aching to go console her.

Loud thuds continue to pound against my door, trying to block out her cries. I look back at my phone as the screen lights up.

One new voicemail.

Curiosity of what the voicemail holds doesn't even strike my mind. I'm more fixated on the fact that my phone is in arms reach.

Whenever you're ready, you let us know, and we'll help you, okay?

Amber's words replay in my mind at least ten times as my eyes bounce back and forth between my phone screen and the door.

Whenever I'm ready to put an end to this, I can.

Am I ready?

Maybe...

I drop to my knees and start digging through the pockets of my jacket I had disposed of into the hamper. I knew Cole would rummage through the pamphlets Amber gave me, not because he actually gives a shit, but simply because he hates not knowing as much as me, so I tucked her card away for safe keeping.

The small piece of card stock felt foreign at the touch of my wrinkly fingers, and a sense of guilt almost paralyzes me.

One call and everything goes back to normal. I can go back to living in my hometown, where I'm not several miles away from my best friend and family. I can finally start my dream job and live my life the way I had always intended.

Maybe I could finally return Harry's call when I get back.

"God damn it, Evie! Shut the hell up!" Cole blows back at her, immediately dropping his fists from the door. Heavy footsteps stomp away from the bathroom door, and all of my oxygen gets caught in my throat.