Estranged • h.s.

17

CECILY

My hair is soaked, water dripping onto my eyelashes from the harsh downpour drowning Chicago. Even with the hood covering my short blonde hair, it's soaked all the way through. I'm shivering uncontrollably, the late October air seeping through my soaked clothes. I really shouldn't even go to work, not after I've avoided it and everyone there for the last four days.

I don't want to be here, I don't want to deal with any of it.

It's been five days since I spoke to Harry. Since he was shot. And I know he's probably confused as to why I up and left. I've grappled with what to say, begged Kate to help me come up with something to say that could help him understand.

I don't want him to hate me, but he can't know that seeing him bleed out made me feel like I was dying right along with him.

I still can't make sense of it myself.

Almost two months since he showed up, and I've already gone and let myself slip back into caring mode. I've let's lines blur.

I cannot, ever, feel that way with him. Not ever again. I've somehow let myself lose sight of how badly he hurt me, even when I've done everything in my power to build the wall between us. Caring was not supposed to be part of the equation. Letting him come here was a mistake.

I did it for my own personal gain, to try and torture him somehow, but I lost. It's me that has lost twice now. And I know I'm thoroughly fucked, because I don't see him as winning this time. He's just, I don't know, somewhere in the middle.

All I can do is try to truly move forward with things. Be honest and open for once. Tell him that I don't want him to hold the burden for my revenge, but that I really can't do the stupid back and forth with him anymore. Set my boundaries, and hope he respects that. Maybe be friends.

Or maybe he goes.

I shake my jacket as much as I can under the awning, smiling at Jimmy as he opens the door to the club for me. I'm heavily watching my steps down, praying I don't bust my ass. The club is quiet, save for the employees running around in preparation for the night. Kenny, the bar manager, sweeps past me as I get off of the last step.

"Shit, E, sorry!"

He gives me a look of apology, trays of dishes in his hands as he resumes his path to the far bar. Everyone is moving so quickly. I run through the days in my head, trying to come up with a reason as to why everyone is moving so frantically.

I shake at my hair beneath the hood, careful not to let the wet piece of clothing fall off, while I walk to Zayn's office. The door is open, and he sits at his desk doing God knows what. I knock on the doorframe, leaning in. "What the hell is going on?"

"Look at you! You're back," he says, tossing a pen to the side and leaning back in his chair with a smile. "I've missed you."

I give him a tight smile, leaning on the doorframe, slipping a hand into a very wet jean pocket.

"Missed you too," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"Halloween is in two days, we're celebrating the whole week with parties of course."

I nod my head in understanding, suddenly very exhausted. I definitely shouldn't have come back to work.

"Gotcha, so where am I at for the night?"

"I didn't even know you would be here, but I can give you a set. Whatever you want. Saints and Sinners rooms are gonna be packed, but you don't have to book if you don't want to."

"Sounds good, I can see how I feel after my set. I could use the money."

He looks at me weird, knowing I don't need any money. I have more than I know what to do with. But it will never feel like enough, not when I need to be able to support myself through anything. Who knows what's going to happen?