Unstable (Sequel to Twisted)

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

The bed felt so lonely at night.

The darkness felt so much more powerful-so much scarier, than it did with Harry right next to me. I've slept alone for a few nights, unable to really walk, but as the nights grew on, the darkness became too unbearable.

My walls were already crumbling down.

The sight of seeing Harry with that emotionless face, the way he moved stiffly, his eyes barely skimming over at me.

And when he spoke to me, it was like it was forced.

Like he had to.

Did he even...care?

I thought he did. I began to think-to believe, that perhaps Harry did care about me. That night, when I saved his life, when he first thanked me, I could see his walls crumbling down. Or the day when the great storm hit, and when we kissed all in the middle of the violent turmoil swarming all around us.

Nothing was controllable.

Harry was having a hard time learning that.

Because no matter how hard, no matter at what lengths you went to keep things under your control, they will always swarm free. There was no way to keep things the exact way you wanted them.

I put some deep thought into this. I could hear everyone talking downstairs; Lottie's giggling traveling up the stairs, Gemma's voice sounding through the walls. But I was stuck in this room. Eleanor was the person I spent most of my times with, and the others I spent with Louis, when he was tending to my wound. Even Niall carried some food for me to eat-he proved to be an actually genuinely great person to be around, when he wasn't sporting that large, oversized leather jacket that belonged to the gang. Liam did make an appearance at Niall's side here and there, but his brown eyes watched me skeptically, as if he wasn't sure of what to quite think.

I never saw Zayn.

And Harry was the one who accompanied me to the bathroom; he was the one who disinfected my bandages and put them back on when I bathed.

But he hasn't kissed me.

He has barely touched me.

Am I that revolting?

Harry told me he wanted to preserve the "light" I had.

But that light was slowly dying out.

I could feel it.

The darkness in the room was beginning to fully envelop me-on the inside and out. During the day, I started to speak less. I was too caught up in my thoughts. I knew Eleanor was worried about me, but for some reason, all I could think of was Harry.

But most of all, I kept thinking about that one night I saved him.

I didn't regret it.

I kept remembering the look in his eyes when he saw me, when he was leaning back against the wall with blood everywhere.

Pain was evident in his eyes-and his eyes looked sad and tortured. It was evident he didn't exactly mind getting killed. That was why he asked why I saved him.

I knew that was the turning point in my life, my life that involved with Harry. Once I did that, I couldn't just turn my back any longer. I could've ran that night-I could've been long gone, and Harry would've been long dead.

But I saved him.

And one night, I had enough. The room was so indescribably dark that it truly frightened me. I was heavily reminded of I threw away the covers. My arms grew goose bumps as I was able to move faster, now that the pain was beginning to dim. I could hear voices downstairs, and I paused to listen. No, it was only Louis and Liam laughing about something.