~* Bad decisions make great stories *~
A Harry Styles dark romance that explores the intricacies of mental health, morality and sexual attraction. Enter a world of sin, opulence and crime.
*****
It started and ended with the wind.
She was a hurrican...
I'm only happy when it rains" I'm Only Happy When It Rains - Garbage.
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Overwhelmed. The word doesn't do justice to how I am feeling. It feels as though I'm wearing noise cancelling headphones and all my other senses are trying to overcompensate in a cacophony of discordant sensations that confuse my already fractured mind. It's as though I'm inside one of Evan's songs - pretentious words. Clashing sounds. Chaos.
The pressure inside my skull is crippling. I feel one wrong move away from complete disintegration. Everything about my world that made sense is gone and I am truly alone. Part of me wants to argue that I am free - but I'm not a complete idiot. I know I've only exchanged one prison for another. Agilded cage to clip my already broken wings. And here, I don't know the rules. They're not even playing the same game.
At least with Evan I knew what to expect. I knew my place.
And yet here - sitting in the dark in Tink's apartment - I feel more exposed and vulnerable than I have in years. The walls I have so meticulously built and reinforced over time are now riddled with cracks and faults that threaten to bring everything down around me.
Somehow through the dissoanance I hear the distinct jingle of keys and the sound of a lock clicking. There's nothing rational or cohesive left in my mind at this point and so I remain perfectly still as the door swings open silently and Tink slips in; making an obvious effort to produce as little noise as possible.
I am vaguely aware of how odd I must look; sitting at an awkward ninety degree angle on the couch in the dim light cast by a large Himalayan rock salt lamp in the corner of the room. Tink's shadowy form only pauses long enough at the door to hang her bag and remove her coat and shoes before she turns to make her way to her room.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" The sheer volume of her scream as she spots me makes me jump and almost completely snaps me out of whatever dissociated state I was in. Tink is bent over double; one hand clutching at her heaving chest, the other gripping one of her knees as she tries desperately to catch her breath.
I feel instant guilt and start mentally listing everyting I could have done differently to avoid scaring the absolute crap out of her. Not sitting in the dark like a fucking creep would have been a good start.
Tink takes a minute to compose herself - making an exaggerated fuss about it as she shuffles around the living room, huffing and breathing heavily to the point where I legitimately can't tell if she is being serious or not. Focusing on her and her reaction helps to distract me from my own internal struggle.
