Rehabilitation (Harry Styles)

Chapter Five

As soon as the words pass Dr. Styles lips, tears well up in my eyes. I feel myself losing all control. I try desperately not to breakdown, but hearing her name is worse than when I found the picture. It's worse than the occasional dream about her, and I don't know how to cope.

"I think you should just let her be for today," I hear Harry tell his dad. Dr. Styles just hushes him in response.

"Tell me Arielle," he says. "Let it out."

I can't though. I can't tell him about her. It hurts way too much, so much it's unbearable. I can't think about her, I have to forget. That's what the drugs and alcohol did. They helped me forget, but now I'm locked in this damn place with an annoying psychiatrist. My sadness turns into anger as I turn to face them both.

"What?" I glare at him, holding back sobs.

"Miranda. Who is she? What happened?" he asks. I know he knew it threw me off, he is trying to make me angry, careless in hopes of me spilling the beans. But I'm not stupid. Telling him about Miranda won't give me relief or closure and all he did was piss me off.

"Fuck you," I seethe then turn around and leave. I run as fast as I can to my room, hoping Manda isn't there.

When I get there I collapse on my bed. Tears stream down my face as I choke on my sobs. Manda isn't here, leaving me alone with my feelings. It hurts so much, it too much pain.

"Arielle?" A familiar accent rings through the room. I don't respond or sit up instead I just continue to cry. I feel so powerless and weak. "Arielle," I feel the bed dip, Harry clearly sitting down.

"Don't," I sob out and lift my head to look at him. He stares at my, sympathy floating in his eyes. "I want to be alone."

"C'mon Arielle," he sighs. "No one wants be alone."

"Just leave," I beg, desperation evident in my voice. I don't want anyone seeing me weak and pathetic.

"Come with," he muses.

"What?" I sniff and look at him confused.

"I want to show you something," he stands up, holding his hand out for me to take. I look at him like he is insane and he sighs. "I get that I annoy you and god knows you annoy me. Like serious? Pretty boy?" he scoffs. "But you obviously need a distraction and I have the perfect one."

"Just go," I sigh, trying so hard not to cry like a baby again in front of him. "I don't want you to show me anything. I don't want you trying to get me a distraction and I really don't want your sympathy!" I dig my face back down and sob again. The bed dips back down and I let out a frustrated sob.

"So how many times have you been left alone?" I hear Harry asks I control my sobs the best I can and sit up in my bed, legs crossed.

"What?" I barley say, my voice hoarse and shaky.

"To cry?" he asks again with a shrug. "How many time did you cry and there was no one to comfort you? Let you know that everything would be okay? How long have you been alone?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" I ask and wipe under my eyes which is pretty pointless considering my tears keep on flowing.

"You're so used to be alone and having to hold yourself together that now you won't even let anyone in," he looks into my eyes, trying to read me.

"I don't need anyone," I tell him, my tears finally stopping. "I don't need someone to comfort me or someone to tell me everything will be okay."

"Why is that?" he asks sounding just like his damn dad.