Remedy (H.S.)

34

*TW*

~~~

Kennedy Simmons

Yesterday when I returned home Harry wasn't there. When I left in the morning he wasn't there either and that was alarming.

Now it was 10 am. I had worked extra hours because I there were some important surgeries that had to be done today. I doubted he would be home and assumed he would be at the club but when I entered the garage I noticed that all of his cars were there, even the black Lamborghini that wasn't there yesterday or today in the morning.

When I got in the house I was welcomed by darkness. It looked like no one was there. I would think Harry had left and just didn't use his car but the smell of booze caught my attention.

When my eyes finally adjusted on the darkness I managed to make out the figure of a tall, slim man with long hair sitting on the couch and drinking.

"Harry?" I hang my coat and bag and approached him. He looked like a ghost. He wasn't moving and he was breathing slowly. His eyes that were usually full of life looked dead. I couldn't make out any more details because the only source of light was the half-open window.

"Harry, are you okay? What's wrong?" I sat on the couch right next to him and touched his hand but he didn't react. "Harry, you're scaring me. Please tell me what's wrong. Can I help you somehow?" He eventually shook his head a little. "No." His voice was more hoarse than usually.

"Okay. I won't pressure you to talk... But except of alcohol I can smell blood. Is it someone else's?" He shook his head negatively. "It's mine."

I turned on a small light that was on the wooden coffee table right next to the couch. The light wasn't a lot. Just enough to make out the blood-covered wound in his arm. It wasn't fresh but due to its position whenever he moved and his muscles flexed it started bleeding again.

"Do you want me to take care of it?" I took a second look at it. It was an open wound that would definitely cause an infection if it wasn't treated properly. "No need." He mumbled. "But if I don't do anything it will get infected and you know what that means. Plus it will probably leave a scar." He looked completely unfazed by it. "So what? Just another scar."

Just another scar...

Doesn't he realize that scars hurt? The memories behind them hurt? Can he handle them? I personally can't.

"How many scars can you handle?" He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently a lot." This was sad. He looked broken. I had witnessed him beeing in a bad state before but he was never physically hurt. I hated admitting that but I was genuinely worried about him.

"You're strong. I can't handle the scars." He looked away and rolled his eyes. "What do you even know about scars? Going through shit is one thing. Having a permanent reminder on your body is whole other story. It's not fun, Kennedy. You don't understand. You will never understand."

His voice was breaking and I could tell he was on the verge of breaking down. For that reason and only I did what I did next and that was something I never thought I would willingly do, especially with him.

I stood up in front of him and hesitantly took of my shit immediately catching his attention. "Kennedy what... What are you doing?" In his voice there were hints of confusion and surprise. "I want to show you something."

I dropped my shirt on the floor and turned around so that he would face my back. Then I unbuttoned my bra but I didn't take it off. I just didn't want the straps on my bare back.