Reticent (h.s fanfic, punk Harry)

Chapter two

HARRY/PAST

This is crazy! I can't allow this anymore!" Conner stitched up the last of the slit.

"I didn't ask for your permission in the first place." I held my teeth locked on the fabric as the needle pierced through the skin to bring the flesh together. He sat solemnly in his seat and continued to poke the needle in and out. I cringed at the disgusting pain accustomed with the upset stomach. I wanted to puke and I wanted to scream, but all the energy had left. Nothing was left, there was no one to scream to, and there was no where to puke at. "None of it matters." I put my problems on hold and looked at the job he had done.

It looked too damn obvious. She would notice too soon. But just a few days it would be better. Just a few days I could cover it with something. "Dan busy this weekend?" I asked him.

I shook my arm to get the numb feeling to subside but instead a piercing pain overtook me until a scream burned from my throat. "Easy there, Mike Tyson. Give it a good two weeks before it can be better. And Dan isn't busy, so maybe he'll tattoo this one up for you too."

I held my arm at an awkward position on the walk to home. I was hoping now that Anne would be asleep. I wished. And when I looked up no stars littered the sky. Nothing shined down on me. Nothing gave me hope. Nothing welcomed me.

Oh, star light star bright, no stars I see tonight. I wish I may I wish I might-just give me something to look forward to. Anything to brighten my day. The dark streets were clean until I reached the dusty neighborhood we were scattered in. We were always ignored. We were like the Valley of Ashes, and I'm afraid we would be there forever. There was no going up for us, but there was a high chance that we would sink in poverty another step or two.

There were no jobs available for us. People stopped hiring us, and they started to hire pricks who wore blazers and waxed their assholes. There was no way I could make money for us if I didn't do this. A fight here and there would keep us off the streets. Maybe we could find a way to add to the chemo money.

But then there was a little spot in my soul that hissed that none of this would work. That pessimistic fiber in me dominated my entire being. And then there was the damn pushing. I was pushed into everything. I was pushed to make money, I was pushed into finding a better job, and I was pushed into not being a fucking mistake.

And I was fucking tired. Tired of it all.

Anne was asleep and maybe that was a good sign. But sometimes I would worry when her eyes were closed. I wanted to know if they would open again. And a sick sadistic part of me wanted her to not wake up, a part of me wanted to take something off my shoulders. Then like a punch, I would realize where my thoughts are headed and I would backtrack then scream at myself internally. I had to make sure that they would be okay. She fought for me, then what kind of fuck was I to wish for something so selfish.

Gemma played with the few toys I'd bought her, and Louis was sitting beside the window when I was back. He looked over and his eyes settled on the cut on my arm. "Niall isn't too busy." He spoke so low I wanted to lean in and really hear him. Maybe that's why he did it. Louis was rejected by the one man he looked up to. Ray had taken everything from him. And gave him nothing in return, not even the vulgar empty promises he would make Jay.

He sat there and looked up into the grey sky probably hoping the same things that I was. His brown hair was a little messy from work perhaps.