𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
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"Get off me," I try pushing the brunette off my lap. Don't know her name. Can't be bothered to know it. All I do know is that she ain't Harper and I don't want her on my lap.
"No," she waves her hand about, bouncing around to the music, off her face on god knows what.
Alb, Charlie and Mia sit at the booth with me—dragged them out to get pissed because I couldn't deal with drowning in my own bed. I felt like I was suffocating. Tried to get Astrid to come but she refused, said she wanted to wait and see if Harper would call her or turn up at their place.
Haven't slept since last night, been up for almost two days straight and I think I'm starting to see shit like Harper standing by the bar and then storming out when our eyes connect.
"Seriously, fuck off," I push the girl on my lap to the space next to me. She giggles, drawing up another line on the back of her phone. I get up, my legs feel like jelly. I'm way more drunk than I thought. I remember I've been drinking since Charlie called me last night.
I don't get drunk. Ever. Not even when I was a teenager, I was always aware of my limits.
People move out of my way when I stumble through the crowds in a drunken haze, trying to chase after the illusion that I'm becoming more certain was actually real. I'm fucking sweating, feel like I can breathe. Have to stop by the back of the bar to catch my breath.
Fuck knows what's going on but my chest feels tight, like my lungs are about to collapse. There's this big fucking hole in my stomach, I can't even keep food down, the only thing in there is whiskey, weed and a bit of bread.
I've never been this wrecked in my life. I pride myself on being put together—organised. I can't keep control of anything lately. I'm starting to worry myself, my head isn't in the right direction, it's steered off.
Once I've caught my breath, I push my weight onto the fire exit door around the back of the club. Suck in a breath when the September chilliness smacks me in the face. I welcome the coldness as I search for Haysie. I definitely saw her. She was definitely there. A little white dress, long black coat, heart she gave to me when she was too young to do so, face that's engraved in my brain like one of the tattoos marring my skin. Yeah, I saw her.
My eyes scan the street, it's not that busy but it's still London and there's still too much going on. But I catch her, leaning against a black iron fence trying to wave down a cab. I jog over there, ignore the tingling in my knees that's trying to pull me down. Maybe I should turn away, leave her to it but I won't—can't.
"Haysie," I gasp when I reach her.
She whips her head around, shakes it once and pretends I'm not there. "Fuck—listen to me," I test the waters, hold onto her arm lightly. She glances down at my hand, shrugs it off.
