One Journey, the Final

Chapter 13:

I woke up, apparently I had fallen asleep. I was lying sideways, and my feet dangling off the edge. After unwinding myself from the mess of blankets and sheets, I looked at my clock. It read 1:30 AM, pitch black outside. I searched the wall, looking for a light switch. I flicked on the light, and in all glory the lights turned on, blinding me. Blinking my eyes, they adjusted after a while, but I was able to make it to my office. I shied away from any mirrors, not wanting to see the monster staring back at me. I flitted my eyes around the room, and passed right by the filing cabinet filled with the dream home project. And then, all the emotions boiled through me, anger flowing easy. All those dreams were ruined now, I had gone through too much heartbreak, and I felt as though I would never be able to share these dreams with another ever again. I mustered all my strength and will, charged towards the filing cabinet, and tipped it over, letting the pain go as I heard the big crash of it hit the floor—hard. Papers began raining down around me, spilling out of the cabinet. I threw my engagement ring into the pile of papers. I began crying.

                  I had spent my solitude on a steady diet of herbal tea. It was the only thing that could relax me. I did receive many calls from Harry, but I ignored them all. I expected that I would never hear from Harry Styles again, but I wasn’t sure if I was all right with that. To make matters worse, pictures were all over Twitter and E! tv of him with other very beautiful women. I'm sure he would  have explained to me the next time we would have talked that they were just "friends." It was the third day however, that I knew that never hearing from Harry wasn’t going to happen. I was lying on the couch, about to fall asleep when I heard a twisting on the doorknob. My senses heightened, I nearly flew off the couch, ready to face the intruder. Blurred instincts, I grabbed a nearby lamp. The twisting continued, and my grip only got harder. Eyes narrowed, and I saw the door creak open. I slowly walked towards it, but then it swung open. My arms got up, ready to attack this person.

To my utter confusion and horror, Harry walked through the door.

                “Harry!” I screamed. He seems a little shocked to see me there, in a defense pose. I dropped the lamp, and lost all strength. Harry. Harry had come from the tour to talk to me.

                “Get out,” I said flatly.

                “Wait-Bell, please—,” he began. “Get out,” I repeated, my tone with more edge.

                “Bell, we need to talk,” he said, not backing down. He gently walked in, closing the door behind him. Adrenaline began pumping in my veins, replacing the weakness. I grabbed a pillow, silent tears streaming down my face. I clenched and unclenched, not meeting his eyes. I walked towards him, he stood, motionless. I began hitting him, repeatedly, yelling words that I could not control.

                “You terrible, monster! Why did you say those things! I hate you! I never want to see you again! Leave! Leave!” Along with some others were my choice of words. After a while, his voice matched my level of intensity.

                “Bell! Bell! Annabel! Stop! We need to talk! You need to trust me!!” At the word, “trust,” I slowed my attacking. He grabbed my wrists, and I dropped the pillow. I crumpled into his arms. This was not how I expected things to go. I was too weak. He spoke soft words into my ear, and guided me to the couch. I wasn’t listening though, if I couldn’t fight, then I would ignore him. I numbly sat next to him. He said a few words, none of which affected my anger towards him.

                “Bell, what happened that day, nothing happened how it was supposed to go.” He began. Is it terrible that even now, my heart flutters when he calls me Bell? The words seeped through, and I fought hard to block them out.

                “…Bell, what Daryl said was completely rude and…uh…dumb.” Harry’s never been exceptionally fluent with expressing his words, though whatever he says seems the enchant me.

                “What I said what supposed to be positive, though Daryl twisted it negative. Yes, you are nothing I ever imagined. I never pictured myself to be with such a…lovely, darling, gentle, soft, and well, conservative woman. Generally, when I would look for girls, complete opposites would attract me. But then you came along, and you changed everything. You’ve bewitched me body and soul, and I-I-I love you,” he said, quoting Jane Austen. A pit formed in my stomach, and my eyes burned with tears. I brought my knees to my neck, and cradled myself in the fetal position, now wrapped in his arms. I was up, I was down, I was spinning, I was crashing. I was fast, I was slow. I was feeling everything. I felt the hairs rise on my back of my neck as his arms encircled me. And although every ounce of my being wanted to collapse into his arms and forgive all that he had said, I could not. Something in the back of my mind kept me from allowing myself to completely drop my guard again. My memories were burned with the heartbreak and nothingness of Will, and now Harry had torn open those wounds again, forming new scars.

                “Harry, I just can’t. I need more time.” I heard him sigh a breath of defeat. I just couldn’t. Tears were now streaming down my face.

                “Go,” I said weakly. He wouldn’t budge. “Go Harry,” I said, a little more sharp. He gently sat me next to him, and he got up. I didn’t watch him leave, only jumped when I heard the door close, breaking the silence. I released a breath of pain and anger. I shoved a pillow into my face, and gave one final upsetting scream into it. My eyes fluttered as my own screaming woke me up.

              It had been a dream.

Not the interview, but Harry visiting me.

Tear stained face and longing for a shower, I got out of bed and walked to my stereo system, and blasted music to the highest volume. I nearly felt the whole house shake from vibration. I could barely understand the lyrics playing, but the quickly coming headache was much easier to handle than the heartbreak. I quickly began tapping my hands to the beat of the song to any solid surface around me. I felt like a child again. At this point, I didn’t care. Trying to claim back my feelings, I relived all childhood emotion; carelessness, free spirit, and complete naivety.

                When I lost my breath and was drenched in sweat, I skipped to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. I was feeling much better. For once, I was free. You could hardly tell that I was just a sobbing wreck forty five minutes ago. I chugged down the water too fast, and a stomach ache was quickly approaching. I clutched my belly. I was done with trying to cover up the dying heartbreak with a fake smile. It wasn’t working, and I knew that if he saw me with the “I’m-So-Over-You” expression, he’d see right through me. '

So what if I could make him jealous?

Yes, that could work. The tabloids had already heard about the breakup, and I’m pretty sure my face is on the cover of all over People Magazine, and a juicy jealousy story could be the icing on the cake. I was ready for this.