The Bodyguard #TheWattys2015

09. Confessions

listen to the music, babies

Cassandra's POV.

The paintbrush is gripped in my hand as I look at black patterns I made on a white paper. There's nothing shown, just black lines full of hate and hurt.

After talking to Zayn, I didn't want to got for a walk anymore, because my mood was ruined. So I got up to my room and started to do the only thing, that helped me escape from the times I was a child: painting.

It's amazing how fast time flies, how things can change. It almost terrifies me. Five months ago, living in this room, I wouldn't even think, that I'll be standing right here, with dried tears to my cheeks; five months ago, lying in this bed with Harry, I thought that he was the only right person to me. But look at me now.

I laugh bitterly at myself and take two steps back to look at the painting again.  That's exactly how my insides feel right now; I'm the mess of black, long, fat lines.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't understand where did my strength go. I remember Cassie, who was full of enthusiasm, who couldn't wait to see Harry again to show him what he's lost, but what now? What the hell now?

I take a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and light one. I let the smoke take the whole control over me, but even then, when I inhale deeply, trying to turn my mind off, still, memories come crashing down on my already broken soul, ruining it.

I can't take it anymore.

It's too fucking much.

This two days has made me a wreck of emotions and I'm not that strong. I never was and never will. Life gave me hard lessons to learn, not caring about my age, experience or anything at all, and right now, I feel like giving up because...

Because I miss Harry.

And I hate myself for that; I hate that I feel like his hug would heal any scar, like his kiss will make me forget every kind of pain.

I hate myself,

and I hate him even more.

Now, I think that him being my bodyguard is the worst thing that can ever happen. I'm not sure that I will be able to bare with his closeness anymore. Imagining that our relationship will be like when we started, makes me nauseous. And I know, that it will take the best from me not to give myself away.

My head hurts, the emptiness inside of me growing.

You know, there's a brief moment in everyone's lives, when we don't care about the past, present or the future; our souls ask for something, something, that will help them survive; that will return them to life. And for this brief moment, my soul asks for him.

For Harry.

There's a light knock on my door and I roll my eyes. What a perfect time for a visit.

"Cassandra, I wanted you to- what's wrong with your T-shirt?" Felicia furrows her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her.

"I was painting." I motion with a paintbrush to the paper in front of me as I take another inhale.

"Uh, I really don't like you smoking," She coughs and shakes her head. I roll my eyes. We've discussed this already, but she still keeps nipping at my brain. "But anyways, I wanted to know, what time do you want your hair to be done tomorrow."