Stranded

Chapter 32

When I go back into her room to clean everything up, I also see ripped paper all over the floor. I bend down and pick up a few peices, trying to decipher what could have possibly been written or drawn on them. Whatever it was, she definitely destroyed a whole load of pictures. 

I take off all the bloody sheets on her bed and plan to put them in the washer as soon as I get the room cleaned up. On the bedside table, there's a drawing notebook, but all the pages have been torn out. Those must be all the torn peices of paper on the floor. I turn the cover over and see in her handwriting Drawings Of Harry on the outside. It doesn't take me long to realise that she took out every picture she'd ever drawn of me and ripped them to peices. 

"Do you really hate me that much?" I say to myself but it's a question I already know the answer to. She does hate me. Really hate me. Something aches inside my chest at the thought that she hates me so much that she ripped every picture she'd drawn of me. And obviously there were a lot. 

Don't you get it? You're hurt that Cass doesn't even like you anymore. Any hope you might've had of even being just friends is over. It's all over. Cassidy hates you in every meaning of the word.

It's been said that hate is an equal word to death. If you hate someone, you dislike them so much you wouldn't care if they died. 

After getting up the all the paper and throwing it in the garbage, I go into her bathroom where the blood has started to dry. I have to turn away from the distrubing sight and try to block out the image of what Cassidy probably looked like as she was tearing into her skin.

I go downstairs, ignoring the stares and rude comments of everyone, and put the sheets and covers into the washer and get the mop and cleaning supplies. I wish I could clean up a relationship as easy as I can clean up a bathroom.

I mop up all the blood and wipe down the counters and clean pretty much everything until it's sparkling clean. No trace of what she did can be found. Except for one thing. The blade. I keep that, put it in my pocket so that I can throw it away while she's concious. 

I wipe away the blood on her floor in her bedroom and then go back over to my room to check on her. She's still unconcious. 

I go stand beside her and tuck the blond strands of hair behind her ear and away from her pale face. As soon as she wakes up, she has to eat something. For now, all I can do is attempt to clean up her scars. 

I get the first-aid kit and gently begin to clean the deep gashes on her arms, her wrists. The aching in my chest physically hurts as I clean her up. Cassie never should've been driven to do this. I'm the reason for this. I did this to her. This is all my fault.

How can you even live with yourself Harry?

You're a monster!

Self-concieted jerk!

Ass hole!

Son of a bitch!

Terrible son!

Horrible brother!

Harry doesn't have any feelings! 

All of these things and more scream inside of me. It's true. Every single one of them is true. 

After I finish bandaging all of Cassie's cuts, I decide to cook something for her for when she eventually wakes up. 

Going into the kitchen, I make one of her favourites. Grilled cheese in the shape of a flower.

*Flashback*

"Are you hungry?" I ask her and she looks at me with a 'duh' expression.