1989.

5.

** They paid the price. **

I wake up feeling heavy on my chest. I look at everywhere around my room, feeling lost. I check my phone, in hopes there is a missed call from Harry, but there is none. I shake my head as I look down at my hands, feeling bummed out about the fact he didn't dare to call me. I put the phone back on the night stand and start to put together the dream I just had. I close my eyes and all that I can recall was me screaming 'stay' at Harry and how green his eyes looked and how we were in the same spot, everything was white and that was the only word I could get out. I shake my head and take my journal in my hands. I start to write.

It could've been easy for you and I, because darling...all you had to do was stay...

I write, but then I scratch it. I nod my head as I gently scratch my temple, thinking of something to write.

Hey boy, all you had to do was stay, because now you're calling me up, saying you want me back.

'What the hell am I writing?', I think to myself as I literally can't find something else to write about. I scratch the last words written, and crumple the sheet of paper and throw it to the wall. I notice how it fell to the ground and I let out a sigh. Thinking of something good to write sometimes it's hard, but most of the time, it comes easily to me. I hear my phone ringing and I notice it's a call from Harry. His picture is being displayed on the screen and it makes me want to answer the call and hear him out, but with us...it's always a game of cat and mouse. I'm always the mouse and he always ends up winning.

Hey, all you had to do was stay, had me in the palm of your hand.

I let a smile form on my lips as I re-read the last words I wrote. But then, I get interrupted by the same person as before. This time, I decide to answer.

''Hello?'' I say, nervous. But I am not going to let it show.

''Thank God you answered. We need to talk.'' He sounds desperate, like he needs me in his life. The worst thing about this situation right now...when it comes to him, I'm always weak and I think that's the worst thing a girl can be. Weak.

''Harry, don't get me wrong, I just answered because I didn't want to come off as rude.''

''Bullshit.''

''Excuse me?'' I was getting mad at him, because you see, he's right.

''I know you answered because you wanted to talk to me,'' He sighs. ''Taylor, we need to fix this. I'm still here in New York, we're about to shoot a music video, but I'm here and as soon as I'm off with this I'll be there with you.'' I press my lips together, thinking about what to say. I take a deep breath before speaking.

''No, forget about me.'' I end the call, feeling some kind of hurt in the pit of my stomach. I throw the phone on the bed and the journal as well, I start to cry. I hate to cry. But with him, it's a never ending game and I can't put myself out to that again. Not again.