Behind The Masks Of Blood ;hes;

Chapter 33

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[Bella] :          

                        The things that Gratte has told me are lingering in my head like forever. I was not prepared for what he said. I was not ready to hear the truth, especially not from Gratte. I wanted Harry to open up for me, and I am still waiting for this.

                        Gratte's words did not make sense to me. Harry was not someone to do such an awful crime like this. And if so, I am hundred percent sure there is a reason behind this. But I still can not bring myself to the terms of believing it.

                             Not even my mind accepted to repeat the words again. But anyway they are on repeat, and they are the only thing I can focus on right now.

                        Harry and rape ? Nonsense.

                                               I have promised Gratte to give him some blood if his information were right. And if I make a promise I always stick to it. I never break my words.

                                               I was standing by the balcony that was extended from my room. Looking into the empty parking lot underneath. The settlement of the city at this time of night is relaxing. Clamness treading through the vines of the country. All I can hear is the easing sound of the strong wind every time it hits.

                        I sighed, too deep into my thoughts about everything going around me. I am messed up, practically. I have nothing settled down, I can not establish anything in my life. And all I can feel is my head about to blow up.

                                               Small footsteps were heard behind me. Here where I knew Harry has arrived and climbed into the balcony. I was too mad to turn around and look at him. Too angry to even talk with him. And if I talk to him right now, I will probably force him to blurt out the truth about his past. Particularly about everything happened with him.

                        I was honest with him, I told him about the crimes I did in my life. About my deepest secrets that even Zayn does not know about and he was understanding. So why would not I understand what he has gone through ? Why can not he entrust me the way I did for him ? Those questions have been rounding in my mind since the morning.

                        “Hey.” He calmly spoke from behind me. His voice seems far abit which confirm my assumptions were right that he is still standing on the door of the balcony.

                                               “Hey. See you've returned.” My voice seemingly cold, uncaring. But internally I was hurt. I do not even know in any dictionary this exist or in any conception it can be understood, but I was hurt, I was in pain and i felt like I am suffering. It even hurt more than when I woke up and my life turned into wanting blood.

                        “Uh — Yeah, it's late why are not you asleep ?”

                                           I turned to face him, he was chewing a gum between his teeth as his eyes moved to meet mine. “I was talking with Zayn. I guess tomorrow I am going home to him.” I lied, and I honestly don't know why. Was I thinking he'd care if I go to Zayn and meet him ? Was I thinking he might get jealous ? That's so lame.