Artifice

The Journal

I've come to the conclusion I just simply suck at writing dramatic scenes like this.

-

I was driving, well more like speeding down the streets of Manhattan. Somehow I haven't been pulled over yet.

After my awkward, and uncalled for meeting with Harry's father I couldn't control the amount of thoughts bouncing around my head. George and I left our conversation both being confused when I claimed Harry had worked there and he assured me he doesn't. I excused myself from his office, practically running out the door.

I unbuckled my seatbelt once I reached the apartments.

Storming inside, all I could feel was anger. Anger from the amount of secrets that have been piling up in the span of two weeks.

My rolled up fist banged against the apartment door. Quickly a tired Liam was opening the door. It was the middle of the afternoon, what the hell was he doing sleeping?

"Eva?" I pushed past him and inside the apartment.

"Harry!" I yelled.

"Eva what are you doing?" Liam sounded alarmed.

"Harry you prick!" I made my way over to his room, finding that the door was unlocked.

He was laid in his bed, his eyes only just opening because of my loud arrival.

"Where is it?" My blood was boiling.

He couldn't get up quick enough before I was at his desk searching for the damn journal that has been in the back of my mind for days now.

It was exactly where I thought it would be.

"What are you doing?"

I couldn't imagine how crazy I looked taking the small book and locking myself in his bathroom. I didn't have a plan, I just needed answers and I had a feeling this journal had something for me to go on.

I never cared for art, art as in the type that is on paper or in displays. Yeah, it was fascinating to look at and to use as decorations but I didn't get it like I got literature.

What?

Liam insisted I needed inspiration, my writing was lacking 'umph' as he and Rebecca put it. My career as a writer was deteriorating, apparently stories about a boy with a fucked up father weren't all the rage anymore.

"Eva!" Harry yelled from outside the door. I slid down on my back against the wall, feeling adrenaline pumping through my body as I read on.

Liam and I found ourselves at a museum of all the places in New York City. Instead of looking at the displays, he kept his eyes out on every girl that passed our way.

Oh no. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, finally understand why Harry didn't want me to see this.

His idea for reviving my writing was to approach someone I wouldn't normally peruse, which explained why we were there.

So that's what I did.

She was 5'3 give or take a few inches, brown hair and wore all black clothes. Liam went on a fit about how he was hooking up with her roommate and she was perfect for the 'role'.

"I swear I'll break this door down!"

By this point I was questioning Liam's credibility. He knew shit about what it took to write a good story or article.

Either way the girl he forced me to was a dead end, she was stubborn and irritated me to no extent. The little hope that I had was dwindling into dust.

Harry's rampage ceased. Instead, the sound of the lock of the door unlocking made me quickly stand up.

"Eva," he eased his way inside with a frown set across his features.

I threw the journal to the ground. Just reading the first page was enough.

"You don't work with your dad." My arms hugged my body as I spoke.

"Baby, let me explain."

"Explain what?" My legs felt weak as I kept walking backwards while he came forward. "That you've been lying to me ever since we met? What kind of sick game are you playing at Harry?"

"It's not what it sounds like." His voice cracked.

"It's exactly what it sounds like. Was I just a role to you? An idea to help yourself out?" I was growing angrier by the second.

Harry paced around the bathroom, grabbing at the ends of his hair.

"At first yes," with that I attempted to cross him to get out of the small room but he stopped me.

"We're you lying every time you said you loved me?" His face fell.

"No. Never. How much did you read?"

"Enough." I successfully pushed his arm that was blocking my way from getting through.

"Fuckin-" I heard him say as I walked out of the room, finding Liam waiting by the kitchen. "Don't leave. Please let me explain."

I took a deep breath and turned around, Harry's eyes met mine.

Every part, bone, limb, fiber in my body was exhausted. I couldn't bare to stand here, looking at his face any longer.

"I need some time." I pleaded.

"Take it then." His hand extended, showing that he was gripping the brown book.

"Why would I-" he was mad if he thought I was going to continue reading about how he has been lying to me all along.

"Just take it."

He took my hand and forced me to grasp the journal.

-

Drama.