The Situation

TWENTY FOUR

ARIABELLA'S POV

 I can count on two hands in my whole 22 almost 23 years of being stuck on this earth I have these thoughts. I'm never alone when they pop into my mind, but this time, I am all alone. There's not a soul in sight. I had this feeling when Shawn was born and it was amazing until I misbehaved and wasn't allowed to hold him for a month or even look at him, it killed me. When Conner was born I had the same feeling and that ended fast after mom had to stitch me up from getting a rocking chair thrown at my face. High school graduation day or what I  call false freedom when I got locked in the basement for two days in the dark with no food, water, or air conditioning. 

When I finally came to terms and had the most content I had been in years just to get thrown down the stairs then proceeded to get kicked repeatedly in the chest and stomach.  

This feeling only brings back horrible memories that were the aftermath of feeling something good.

It's strange. It feels like I stole someone else's thought as this is definitely not my normal thoughts. I don't like this.

The last time I felt this way I was all snuggled up in my bed with Harry. The peacefulness, stillness, and the overall sense of normalcy I was wrapped in paused the constant chaotic storm swirling around in my head.

I was awake early in the morning, before the sun poked its head out on the horizon. The cool breeze felt good from the open window, and the street lights lit just enough of the room that I could see his face. He was holding me so tight in his sleep. I was facing towards him as we share the same pillow. I moved my arm that was resting on his to push his hair off of his sleeping face.

I usually hate that I wake up to be forced to live another day, but with him, only with him, I look forward to waking up in his arms or him in my arms.

In these mornings, I allow myself to memorize every detail of him, every perfect imperfection, every blemish on his skin, the patchiness of his facial hair, his swollen eyes when he sleeps and his full dry lips.

He never wakes up when I play with his hair or whisper to him. I had that weird thought that made my stomach drop "as long as I'm yours I feel alive as long as you're mine, I feel untouchable, like nothing can bring me down. I-I I think I'll be OK in this world." I whisper softly to him as I'm talking to him when he's asleep in the mornings.

This thought freaks me out and the fact it slipped through my lips without my brain registering the heavy weight the statement holds scares me even more. What if he had been awake? Would I be able to bite my tongue and sit with that thought instead of blurting it out?

It also freaks me the hell out that I wanting to be his and him be mine. That saying also gave me the creeps, it's extremely cringy and possessive. It makes it seem like we are pieces of property, that I'm his property and he is mine. Somehow, it's less cringy now and more possessive, at least for me. The idea of being his doesn't feel like I have a price tag stamped on my forehead or that he has control over me. It doesn't make me feel any less of a human being, rather I feel like a person, a person who belongs somewhere. 

I belong to myself and I feel like I belong with Harry. As an equal, he doesn't make me feel like I'm less than a person or not good enough and I would rather die than treat him like that. He feels like home. I haven't had a home since I was a tiny girl. We moved from house to house when we lived with dad before he left us, then mom and I lived on our own. I remember it was good and safe and I think I was happy. Then he came along and my home was no longer a home. It's a house, a space with walls that witnessed horrible things. 

I never belonged in that house, we never belonged there.

 I never felt like a house was a home, home is a feeling. Harry is my home.