~* 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I'm beginning to believe in the multiverse - I almost suspect that, just maybe, I've shifted somehow to an alternate dimension.
The last two days have been some of the most bizarre of my life.
After waking up in Harry's spare room - which seems to be becoming somewhat of a bad habit - nothing has felt the same. Everyone is tip-toeing around me like they're walking on eggshells and yet have managed to be contranstingly suffocating. Not in an entirely bad way though. Logan has been texting me non-stop and Tink has been glued to my side whenever we're home together.
And Harry.
I've never seen him like this; so out of sorts. Granted, I've only seen him once when he stopped by briefly with Matt; he seemed quietly agitated - looking torn between concern and confusion. He's clearly freaked out and has no idea what to do with me at this point.
I'm a mess. And now he really knows it.
The worst part is I can barely remember what happened. I was so disengaged from reality that I don't think I even really registered much of what was going on around me. All I know is that Harry, Logan and Matt helped me. Instead of ignoring - or worse, encouraging - me like Evan would do; they stepped in and helped. I don't know how to respond and so instead I've ignored anything to do with my breakdown.
Fake it 'til you make it, right?
The stitches in my leg are really itching today - a normal part of the healing process - reminding me they will have to be removed soon. Tink has been relentless in making sure my wounds are cleaned and the dressings changed daily. I'm not sure who told her about what happened, although my money is on Logan, but in a way I'm thankful they did. She's been the perfect mix of caring and unobtrusive.
I can always rely on her to let me set the pace - never forcing me to talk when I'm not ready. It makes me think that perhaps she's gone through something unspeakable too. It takes a special kind of person to empathise in silence without letting curiosity tempt them into unwanted prying.
It's hardly something I can talk about; even though I so desperately want to. The mental gymnastics required to find the right balance between vague and specific is beyond me. I'm way too socially inexperienced to navigate a conversation like that without slipping. I've proven that multiple times so far - especially when I publically announced my proficiency with firearms like the idiot I am.
While I have made no move to leave the building alone, I did notice that the guard on the elevator has disappeared. It would be naive to assume that means I'm not being watched; but it does make me feel a little less like a prisoner. Logan insists I take at least a week off work to recover. At first I was dreading all the time left alone with my own thoughts but quickly learned that would not be the case.
