Broken Beyond Repair

Chapter Four

~:Chapter Four:~

Somehow, I found myself

thinking of the curly haired lad, Harry. It brought out my curiosity when he had so much concern in me. Why had it mattered to him?

He probably didn't care after all is what the problem was. I was just a charity case. I hated the way people at the institution shot me looks of pity, I really did. But Harry's was of pure concern, not like the nurses at the asylum.

In one way or another I was lost in the book The Fault In Our Stars. Such a book about life and death, love and lost. It was sad to read about Hazel with her weak lungs, though it was enjoyable to read about Augustus and Hazels undying love for one another. I wished I found love just like Hazel did. But with my mental state I probably never will.

It's not that I'm mentally ill, or maybe I am. Depression just got the best of me, lets just say. That, or the darkness that had to come out sooner or later. Either way, I'm still a mess. A lonely mess.

I thought of talking to Josh but the idea quickly vanished. There was nothing to do really, I had lost my friends long ago, when I lost my sanity. There was no one there for me, just me against the world, fighting a battle I'm bound to lose.

It wasn't necessarily that I was angry with Josh-in a way I was- but I was mostly mad with myself for giving up and not trying hard enough to get better. Everything would be so much better without me, but I pushed those negative thoughts eating away at my very being.

I pulled my laptop out and typed in my password doing some online classes for college.

"Joy?" A knock on the door interrupted my courses, but by now I had gotten distracted and was now playing games on my laptop.

I cringed hearing the nickname, at first I thought it was Josh being annoying, but he knew better to bug me after their little discussion.

Harry. I instantly straightened up staring at the door. The knob jiggled slightly and then stopped.

I got up and unlocked my bedroom door, it was like a reflex; locking the door.

"Harry?" I peered through the crack. I didn't hear him come in the flat. But I was more curious as to why he was here and not with his drummer.

"Can I come in?" Harry asked staying his distance from the door. I hesitantly opened the door to reveal the room I managed to hide from everyone.

He peered around looking at everything, from paintings, to the laptop that rested on my bed, and the sketch pad and papers laid messily on my bed along with it.

"You draw?" He strolled over to my bed where the sketch pad and cautiously glanced over to me, silently asking if it were okay to peek. I nodded numbly. Harry was a stranger, that's all he was, and yet I was revealing one of my talents.

Some of my drawings weren't too pretty. Not view wise, they were well drawn. But it was the darkness they held that I felt I needed to hide from Harry's view.

Once Harrys eyebrows raised in surprise I felt he'd seen enough. He'd seen too much already, being in my room, looking at my artwork.

The papers next to my sketchpad were in plain sight. They held a deeper meaning than the drawings I created, and a deeper secret I didn't want Harry finding out.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Poetry?" He asked plucking a paper off the bed.

"Don't read that-" but it was too late, his eyebrows furrowed, confusion clear on his face. He was reading and it was too late to stop him.

Too late to stop the pain,

Voices driving me insane.

Losing hope, feeling sad,

Please help, I'm going mad.

Down the pills, take a risk,

Get the blades, cut the wrist.

Lack of sleep, emotionless face,

Ready to die, but its not a race.

Sorrow eyes, pain beyond,

Couldn't keep this mask for long.

Dark skies, battle cries,

Too late, it's time to die.

His eyes scanned the paper over and over trying to see some kind of explanation that's not there.

"Wh-what?" He looked from the paper up to me, panic in his expression.

"The school assignment was death and sadness, depressing isn't it?" I had a convincing lightness to my tone. Putting on that mask that I've become so used to.

Harry barely knew me, so he wouldn't be able to see through the facade I was playing. He wasn't stupid though, he could see that the paper held a deeper meaning than school work. He could feel the sadness through the paper, jumping out and dragging him in. I don't want to drag him down.

Believing me was easy, so simple to fall for my convincing act. Well who can blame me? I've had years of practice.

I snatched the paper from Harry's grip, feeling a small amount of rage. How dare he look at something so secret, it wasn't for him to look at.

"Oh.. Well you're good at portraying darkness in your work. It's very... convincing." Harry confirmed taking a seat on my bed.

"Remind me why you're here?" I snatched the papers off the bed and tucked them safely in my bedside table drawer.

Harry didn't seem to mind the slight harshness in my tone, only welcomed it. "Well just stopped by to tell Josh something and wanted to see his little sister."

"Well, you saw me." I crossed my arms. Maybe harshness will give him the hint that I wanted no part of him, because I'm just a mess that no one will understand.

"You want to go for a walk?" Harry asks, looking into my hesitant eyes as if they would give him the answer.

The old me would never pass up an offer by a sweet attractive guy, unless I caught a weird vibe from him. But this me, this me never trusted anyone.

In fact, my logic worked like this:

Don't get close to someone= don't get hurt.

Get close to someone= become attached=get hurt.

It was simple.

In my dark mind, if you saw the negatives in things it would be easier to find reasons not to trust that person. Where as, if you put faith into all the positives it becomes easier to get high hopes and eventually get hurt.

Did I really want to put faith into someone who will eventually leave me? I've been hurt too many times already, I've taken enough risks and isn't stable enough for another piece of myself to shatter.

So the easy way was to just find the negatives, and not to get close or attached. Simple as that.

Except the problem with Harry was that I couldn't spot the negatives, spot the bad. I felt as if Harry had understood what I was going through, ironically even if he didn't know what I was going through.

Even something simple like going out for a walk was hard deciding.

The problem was that even a simple crack can lead to a big disaster. And that's what I'm afraid of, my walls cracking.

And crack they did.

"Yes."