Chapter 8-Nightmare

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   I offer a small smile to Harry as he catches up to me. He is slightly out of breath, but chooses to speak anyway.
  "Are you ok?" He huffs lightly. I nod.
    "Yeah, I'm fine." I tell him.
    "He didn't touch you, did he?" His tone hardens.
      "No." I look down, no longer able to keep his gaze, his frightening words sending painful flashbacks shooting throughout my mind. Something on Harry's hand catches my attention, and without thinking, I grab it to examine. He is taken by surprise by my actions but makes no attempt to shy away. I pull his large hand closer to my face, my eyes wandering over the bruised and bloody knuckles.
    "Are you ok?" I gush. Harry chuckles lightly at the sight of my observations, causing self consciousness to sweep over me, and I drop his hand.
      "Yeah, I'm fine."
      "What happened?" I look back up to meet his gaze.
      "You have nice eyes." He blurts, ignoring my interrogations. I feel myself blush.
      "Uh, Thanks." I smile. He obviously feels uncomfortable, his accidental slip of the tongue is most likely uncommon.
          "So, um, how has your first week been?" Harry attempts to make conversation.
          "Okay I guess, not very eventful." I laugh lightly. Harry doesn't reciprocate my actions, causing an awkward silence to hang between us. Harry opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it, closing it quickly. He drops our eye contact, and shoves his hands in his pockets.
          "I have to go." He mumbles, pushing past me, and stomping along the pavement, until he disappears completely from my sight. What the hell? Harry's roller coaster emotions confuse me. First he protects me, and runs to me, making sure I'm not injured, and then when he accidentally says something nice to me, he becomes defensive and leaves? How is it that he's always around when I need help the most? But when I try to have an actual conversation with him, he shuts down? My head spins.
    "I need to stay away from him for good." I promise myself, and I truly hope that it's a promise I'll be able to keep.

  When I get back to my room, it smells of smoke and perfume. Lily and Eve are dressed in tight dresses, and they draw on each other's faces with heavy makeup. The bathroom door is closed and I assume Naomi is in there. Their heads snap in my direction as I shut the door behind me. I offer a friendly smile, and sit on my bed, shuffling through my backpack to make it look like I have things to do. Naomi emerges from the bathroom, and the two girls "oo" and "ahh" at her revealing outfit. Naomi shoots me a scowl, before grabbing her purse.
      "We're going to a party." She tells me, without looking up from examining her painted nails.
        "Ok."
        "I won't be back 'til tomorrow," She opens the door. "Try not to have too much fun without me!" She smirks, strutting out of the room, as the other girls erupt in a fit of giggles, slamming the door behind them. I lie on my bed, and find myself wandering if Harry will be attending the party that Naomi is going to. If he is, he'll probably have some slutty girl hanging off of him the whole time. I feel a pang of jealousy in my stomach, and shut all thoughts of Harry out from my mind. I think simple thoughts, as I drift into sleep.

      My heart is pounding in my chest, but I push forward, continuing to run. I hear his heavy footsteps running behind me, and I don't dare look back. I am petrified. I make a sharp turn into an alleyway about a block from the pulsing club, where I'd previously stood, hoping for him to loose sight of me. I am halfway down the alley, when I stumble in my tall heels, falling to the ground with a large thud. My knees sting slightly, but I almost don't notice, my eyes growing wide as he catches up to me. I am immobilized, unable to move or think clearly. I can see the intoxication and anger imprinted in his twisted features.
      "Charlie, I-" I begin, but he silences me by yanking me to my feet. My legs shake, as I think of what sort of punishment I'm about to receive.
      "How dare you run away from me!" He roars, slamming me against the concrete wall. Pain surges throughout my body, as my skull connects with the hard surface. I know how he hates it when I cry, but I can't seem to stop the tears, they escape far too quickly from my pleading eyes.
      "I'm sorry." I try. He shoots me a malicious smirk, his hateful brown eyes piercing into mine. He grips my wrist, and squeezes. I shriek in pain as I imagine the purple marks forming on my pale skin. Tears continue to fall from eyes, as I struggle under his firm hold.
    "Charlie, please." I beg.
      "Shut the fuck up!" He bellows, his hand connecting with my face, drawing blood.
        "I'm sorry." I sob. He shakes his head, not hearing my repetitive pleads.
        "You made a fool out of me in front of all of those people." He hisses through gritted teeth. I shut my eyes, and deep sobs escape my lips. I know trying to get through to him is hopeless, his anger overpowering all other emotions. In one swift movement, I am thrown to the ground, my entire body slamming down onto the hard pavement, and I howl as pain shoots down my spine. I can feel myself slipping from consciousness, everything around me becoming blurry. Charlie's foot roughly connects with my stomach, and it all goes black.

    I shoot up in bed, tears falling from my eyes, my body shaking.
    "It was just a dream." I remind myself, cradling my knees, rocking back and forth. But it wasn't just a dream, it was a flashback. A flashback that I am forced to relive every night, as it appears every time I close my eyes. My mind whirls, sadness crashing down onto me, suffocating me. I stand, and walk into the bathroom, my wobbly knees barely supporting me. I stare at my reflection, my blue eyes puffy, and my cheeks pale and swollen. I hate the girl staring back at me. I begin to pace around the small space, desperate for some sort of release from my crowded mind. I need to stop this pain searing through my heart. It's then that it catches me eye. Resting on the rim of the bathtub, a small pink razor calls out to me.
    "It's been so long since I'd last done it." I think to myself. I cautiously lift it, questioning if this is the release that I need. I take one last look in the mirror, before my decision is made.
      I sit on the floor of the bathroom, and press the object down, hard. Blood is drawn to the surface of my forearm all too quickly, and I rest my head back against the wall. I shut my eyes and allow all bad thoughts to drain from my head. I let out a deep breath. My head is quiet. Calming thoughts float around, replacing the usual insisting ones. I put the plastic object away, and climb back into my small bed. Within minutes, I am asleep.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! xo

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