HEARTBEAT {h.s}

30

Dear Diary,

What is friendship?

Harry asked me to be his friend today.

If you had asked me a month ago, I would have said friendship was something simple to explain. A bond between two people that they both cherish. Someone that guides you through your darkest hours, constantly makes you smile and is someone you can rely on. Someone like Eden. However, when I sit here at this moment, sprawled out on my apartment bed, I don't know if it's that simple anymore.

Now, friendship seems like such a complicated, complex matter. Usually, friendship is something people from unconsciously. I've never been asked directly to be someone's friend; it's unfamiliar territory and I don't know how to arm myself.

I'd never allowed myself to imagine a friendship between Harry and I. After all, our situation never really allowed me to. How can this criminal be my friend? Why does he want to? Why do I want to?

Perhaps I thought an agreement like this, and civility would be beneficial to me. Maybe I won't find myself physically tortured or verbally bruised. Maybe we can build on the trust that I've lost towards him. Maybe he's not as bad as I thought. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I can't be sure though. My wall is built so high and I'm afraid it might never be knocked down. I should have built it as soon as I met him, but I didn't and now there are consequences.

Two days ago, Harry lost any thread of trust I had left for him. I might be bitter, I might be gullible for thinking otherwise, I might be stupid for not realising sooner. Could I ever call Harry a friend?

Has Harry guided me through dark hours? Many times, whether it's been nightmares or a panic attack. However, he's also been the cause of those dark hours.

Does Harry constantly make me smile? Reluctantly and regretfully, I'd say yes. I can feel furious and betrayed by him, yet he finds a way to make me feel lighter. Even if he created the heaviness.

Is Harry someone I can rely on? That remains to be discovered.

If you had asked me a month ago, I would have said friendship was something simple to explain. I'm not so sure that's true anymore because today, Harry asked me to be his friend.

♥ ♥ ♥

I read through the writing in my diary, I had caught it up in the last couple of days. I was looking over yesterday's entry. I've just finished work and came back to my apartment to pick some stuff up for training I have at the mansion in an hour. I throw the diary under my pillow and I go to pick up my bag that I had slung on my table and go to walk towards the door. I stop in my tracks when my eyes land on my bedside table.

I have some time to spare.

I sit on the edge of my bed and open the first drawer which revealed my cluttered mess. I dig through it and find the mystery journal, deciding to read a poem before I leave. I've been reading a few of them lately. The whole journal is full.

And I've been praying,
I never did before,
I've been praying,
Ever since New York.
Tell me something,
I don't already know,
You don't know nothing,
Just pretend you do.
I've been praying,
Ever since New York.

I've noticed something different about the black ink in the journal. I stroke my finger over the words and flick back to some older pages. The ink used from where I'm up to looks more fresh and prominent compared to the beginning where it looked aged and grey. These are more recent than the rest. I don't know a lot about ink so I'm not sure if there's a way to tell how recent.