sHe (Haylor)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

You must be confused. I know I am. This mystery women decides to take over my story as if mine wasn't important enough. She thinks she can control how my narrative starts and end.

But I'm not just confused by that. Let's break it down from what has happened in the last month of my life.

The girl I had been obsessed with finally talks to me

Rachel wanted to be in a relationship and on a turn of a switch, likes our hook ups and doesn't want to be tied down. Not only that, she wants to help find out who this She is. Or sHe because Sarah was important enough to have an H.

But we now know Sarah is Becca and not Taylor who Rachel thought was.

Becca notices I had been interested in her and turns me down, claiming I'm only her bartender and the plot cannot change.

But we also know Becca is a fan of literature.

So why has this become so complicated? Maybe that I have put three names to this girl and turns out she's just Becca. Just Becca.

She's my bad girl fantasy but nothing more than that.

But the question I ask, who is Taylor that Rachel found on Facebook.

"Alright Brit, since you got all cynical on me, I will give you any answer to one question you have" she falls with her drunken steps, giggling to herself

"Why go home drunk?" I knew that's not the question I wanted to ask. But it was on my mind; and I didn't want to explain I was looking for her on Facebook and was trying to figure out her damn name.

"Well, funny you ask Brit"

"It's Harry" I correct, getting annoyed with her putting me in a box

"Alright Harry." She takes a swig from her flask, finishing off her last drop. "Whether I go home to the rents, or the boyfriend, I will get more shit for who I am because of who they are. I don't like to be sober by that."

I sit quiet, wanting to ask more questions like why are you dating him? Or how can your parents be that mean?

"People only hate others because of who they are and that they are not up to their standards. Have you ever thought about that br-Harry?" she walks around the room, digging for her smokes, "why do hate someone that isn't like you"

"Well I don't-" I stop be for I say anything else. I do judge people when they don't look how I look or act, on how how my mother raised me.

"You do, we're born to do it" she breathes in the air, letting the smoke release from her lips, "the boyfriend was raised like you Harry. Born to work hard and he has a few tattoos but cover them up when needed. Never smoked, hardly drinks which I find ironic since he owns a bar"

Her words strike me across the face, as a metaphoric slap for being as ignorant as I have been.

"So, since I smoke and drink and tattoos to express my art, the boyfriend has a tough time accepting who I am and who I won't turn into. To answer your next question, I date him because he is family friends and has tremendous amounts of money. I do love him, more or less the thought of him." She keeps stumbling around the room, looking at all my medical instruments, "he should be with my sister. They'd be a perfect fit, but she's goody two-shoes, she doesn't even like the thought of a man with tattoos and my mother always says opposites attract Rebecca, don't knock it until you marry it" she scoffs at her mothers voice.