When his baby is left at the station, Harry Styles is thrown into fatherhood. Two years later, he decides it is time for his daughter to go to daycare. That's when he meets Monroe Flynn, worker at Golden View Daycare. They both find it impossible to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"You're awfully quiet today." Spencer notes, flipping through the channels on my TV.
"I'm fine." I answer.
Spencer scoffs. "You know better than to lie to me, H. I know something's up." She settles on a channel and places the remote down. "You seem out of it."
She's always been able to read me like a book. We are the closest and I guess that just comes with it.
"I'm fine." I stand up, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a water.
She rolls her eyes as I sit back in the recliner. "You are full of shit."
"Spencer, I'm fine." I kick the leg of the chair out and lean back, my hands cup the back of my head and my eyes shut.
"You sleepy?" She continues to interrogate me.
"Didn't get much sleep last night."
The sound of her cup hitting the coaster, pulls my attention to her. "Are you having them again?"
I huff, moving my stare to the ceiling. "It never stopped, Spence."
"What?!" She exclaims, her glare moving over to me. "You told me months ago that they stopped?"
"I lied okay?!" I raise my voice, not having the energy for this conversation. "Can we not do this right now? I want rest before my shift."
The silence is deafening. My ears are borderline ringing.
"I just want to help, H." Spencer whispers. "You can't just shut everyone out. That's not helping."
"I don't need help." I state coldly. "They are my problems. Not yours."
"Stop saying that!" She screams. "It is my problem because I witnessed it. I lived in that house too, Harry!" My eyes widen at her tone and I turn my head towards her. "You need to stop acting like none of this effects the people around you. We see you hurting. We see how tired you are. It effects Bennett, me, Cleo, everybody Harry."
"I get that, but-"
"I'm not finished." She points her finger. "I'm not asking you to talk about it. I would never want you to relive it, but you have got to let people in. Let people be there for you." She wipes a stray tear that has fallen. "It's killing you, Harry."
Have I been the most open about everything? No. Is there malicious intent behind it? Once again, no.
Growing up, I never could say anything. My parents made me believe I was a burden to anyone I ever crossed paths with. No matter how many people remind me that isn't true, that thought will always be engraved in the back of my head.
