The Island Girl (Harry Styles)

Chapter 32

                  C H A P T E R   T H I R T Y T W O — Rosalie's POV 

       "Rachel, what the hell is wrong with you!" Uncle Chris stormed at us, his face beaming red with anger, looking at his daughter with rage.  He grabbed her face, and forcefully opened her closed eyes, and gasped at the bloodshot and redness that they held.  This mad him more furious.

       I looked away and put my attention on the marble floor that seemed interesting at this time.  I didn't want to feel the wrath of my relative already, and I didn't want to be in this situation where my cousin is getting yelled at.  Even if I feel a little loopy and out of it, I didn't want to risk anything.

       This wasn't going to be good.

       Rachel laughed at her father, spitting in his face.  He looked at her with disgust, and shook his head.  Chris muttered rude words under his breath, and pulled away from Rachel's face. He put his hands on the back of his head, and walked around in circles, trying desperately to get the image of his high daughter out of his mind.  It didn't seem to work, as every thought that came to his mind, made him clench his fists in a despising manner.

       I looked up with my bloodshot eyes, and watched him as he struggled to get his act together.  Chris looked like he wanted to blow up.  But he didn't.

       "I try so hard, Rachel." He said calmly, stopping.  "I try so hard to help you, and get away from these bad people.  But I'm never successful." A lump in my throat formed, blocking my ability to reply and try to defend my cousin.  Even if that wasn't the case, I still wouldn't be able to say anything.  I'd be too afraid to say what was on my mind, so I let my uncle continue.

       Chris took in a deep breath, "I know you got involved with them because of your mother.  She died, I know.  I'm still not taking it very well either. But throwing your life away because of that doesn't help anything.  What would she think of you now?" He whispered.

       She shook her head, and laughed, "You shouldn't be angry at me here.  I do this all the time, and you know you can't stop me.  Give up, dad.  Plus, it shouldn't be me who you're worrying about right now.  Take a look at your niece Rosalie here who did it first."  Rachel pointed at me, making me look away.

       I coughed, trying to rid my dry throat -- also trying to ease the awkwardness I felt at this moment. The cold stare of my uncle burning into the side of my head gave me an headache, and caused my heartbeat to quicken.  It's been less than a day of being in Miami, and I've already messed up.  All because of three simple things.  Sorrow, love, and Harry.

       The tears were already falling down my face.  Feelings of guilt, and regret had hit me so quick, I didn't even see it coming.  What I did back there felt necessary at the time.  The feeling of not feeling didn't make any sense if I were sober, but considering that I'm remarkably high I don't even know what I'm saying or thinking.  What am I thinking right now exactly?

       Easy: I don't know.

       Uncle Chris darted his eyes to look at me, anger hidden in them.  Staring at him, I gulped.  The rude glare that he gave me made my heart beat.  When he shook his head, I wanted to shout sorry and every single word that I could say to get his forgiveness.  Though, the first thing I really need to do is, is forgive myself.  I was an idiot.  And because of that one little thing, I will remain an idiot until I'm not intoxicated and loopy anymore.  Maybe I can think about how I want to spend my life.  What I want to be, how I'm going to make it by myself after I'm out of this place.  Figuring out a tutor for my education.  Let's wait, first.

       "I'm so disappointed in you, Rosalie." He whispered, looking down at the ground.  Sighing, I walked forward to stand close to my uncle.  Looking up at his tall frame, I then wiped a single fallen tear that managed to get to my cheekbones.  Before I could reply to him, I shook my head, afraid that if I speak, I'll say the wrong words.  So, the only thing I managed to say was a mumbled okay, and walked past him to try to find the place in which I would call my room.

I sat on my bed, staring at the aqua-colored walls, not knowing what to do.  My hands were gripping to the white-cotton bed sheets, my teeth gritting every time a pain sprung through my body. Whenever my stomach growled I groaned because I felt so hungry, and desperate to put food in my mouth.  I haven't eaten anything since I boarded the plane.  Although people offered for food on it, I always shook my head.  That queasy feeling caused by being so high in the sky didn't help my appetite at all.  Therefore: I didn't eat.

       Cool, upbeat music was being played by the stereo in the corner.  

       "Don't overthink, just let it go."  I huffed at the sound of Zayn's voice on the radio.  The sound of his voice reminding me of the man who I cared for.  Even if this song was meant as something to rock out to in your bedroom, I can't help but agree with that little statement that was just sung.  Every little thing I do or say is so overthought, and that I can never let it go.  I said I'd never let Harry go, or forget him at all.  I want to, but yet I don't want to.

       As cheesy as it is that One Direction's song is being played when I'm present, I absolutely love it.  It made me remember everything that's happened since the beginning of August, to today, the fith of November.  Only four months, had I known Harry and the boys.  And they were the best four months that I've ever experienced in the past eleven years.  I don't regret meeting them at all.

       As strong as I may seem, I'm secretly a weakling.  Sensitive, shy, and an idiot is what I am, also.  Fighting off animals, and surviving alone without a family for a long time doesn't exactly make me strong.  It was from all the work of God.  If he weren't there to watch and help me, I wouldn't have been alive for that long.  I was so young.  Being young, small, and frail isn't a benefit to a large rainforest on an island.  Death would have been my friend within a month, and I would have greeted it happily.  From the minute I close my eyes to see darkness, I would awake without a thought of what happened before.  My first thought would be thank you.

       I wish I knew how long this lasted.  The drugs.  I want to escape it already.  I can't think well, and my mind is all over the place.  Everything around me looks different than what it would be in the real world.  My head is pounding, and I'm absolutely starving.  Complaining doesn't make it go away, I know.  But I wish it would.  If there were some way to rid the feeling I would do it immediately. Rachel wouldn't be of much help considering she got me into her little circle.  "Well, she did warn you, though."  The voice in my head stated.  I nodded.

       There was nothing that I wanted to do right now, besides sleep.  Eating dinner is something I wanted most, since Chris called me about an hour ago for it, but sounding off.  I just didn't want to sit at the dinner table and be glared at by him.  I didn't want questions, anger, or anything in that range.  I just wanted to rest, and get rid of the odd feelings in my mind and stomach.  So I did.

       Shifting myself to fit underneath the bed covers, I lay there and stared at the ceiling.  My eyes were hurting, and my head was pounding like someone was slamming a hammer to my skull.  It just won't ever go away.  Will it ever?

       My brown eyes finally closed as I lay there for minutes trying to fall asleep.  I always found it weird how I could close my eyes for a long time, then suddenly I'm dreaming.  There was no way that I would be able to witness my vision being covered by images made up by my brain and then waking up to meet the next day.  I would just close my eyes, and I'm suddenly asleep.

       During the time of closing my eyes, I thought of anything that I could ever think of.  Before darkness took my night over, my last thoughts for the night were two simple words:

       I'm done.