Dark △ H.S | ✓

Chapter 44

I had remained in bed for two days; cuddled in the safety of my duvet. When I had built up the courage to inspect the damage my face had sustained, the sight frightened me. My lip was still painfully split, my jaw slightly bruised. The wetness of my cheeks was something of a constant flow, tears leaking from my eyes. Throbbing could be felt as I moved my arms, the dark marks harshly brandishing my skin.

I jumped, shoving the covers back as the vibration on my phone rattled against the wooden surface next to my bed. My fingers fumbled with the device, nervously gulping when the name flashed up. A deep breath was taken in preparation, I had to keep calm.

“Bo?”

“Hey, Harry.” I spoke quietly.

“You didn’t tell me you felt unwell yesterday.” He dove straight in. “I went to pick you up today and Poppy said you phoned in ill.”

“Shoot, sorry Harry. I should have text you.” I spoke honestly, the thought never crossing my mind.

“How are you feeling?” His voice sounded a little distant, not his normal cheeky self.

“I’m alright thanks.”

“I’ll come by later to see you.” Harry sharply suggested.

His words flooded me with panic. The last thing I wanted was Harry coming around. Not when I looked like this.

“No, no, I feel a lot better today, there’s no need.” I gushed.

“I don’t care, I’m coming to see you anyway.” The authority in his voice chilled me.

“I-I’ll come to you.” I quietly spoke.

***

I had thought going to Harry’s would be more beneficial, that way I had more time to prepare and I could leave when I wanted to. But as I stared at my reflection the idea of facing him made me feel nauseous.

No matter how much make-up I plastered on, the lingering bruising still shone through. I had no idea how to conceal the injury my lip was displaying; I don’t think the cosmetic product I desired had been invented yet. My eyes looked a little puffy from all the crying that had taken place whilst I attempted to get some sleep. I was a mess.

I took one more painful glance in the mirror before grabbing my jacket and bag. My mum had been surprisingly calm when inspecting the injuries my body had sustained. I had a feeling I was partly the reason for her deciding on a career in nursing. As a child, not more than a couple of days would go by without me banging my elbows, or grazing my knees. I was always knocking into things, so when she asked me how I’d hurt myself, the excuse of falling into a door was completely feasible.

My thoughts were snapped back to the present when a passenger dinged the bell for the bus driver to pull over at a stop. I suddenly felt a little faint, recognising the familiar road. I stood from my seat, trying to keep my sore arms from brushing against any of the other people having to stand on the crowded transportation.

I thanked the driver, stumbling off the bus and onto the pavement. As much as I wanted to prolong the time before having to face Harry, the gradual encroaching night was beginning to chill me. The air was warm, but I had no desire to be alone when darkness fell; the image of an enraged male forcing himself into my mind encouraged me to make haste along the path.

I knew he’d be waiting for me. My feet finding the steps up to Harry’s flat a challenge. My fingers ruffled at my hair, letting the waves fall partly over my face in order to take away the emphasis of tinted bruising. I steadied my hand as it rose to knock on the dark wood of Harry’s front door. His footsteps could be heard seconds later, travelling towards the solid barrier between us and swiftly opening it. He remained quiet, staring at me before dropping his gaze and moving to the side, allowing me in. Harry’s back was to me as he shut the door. I nervously stood holding my breath as he deeply inhaled, almost as if he were preparing to face me. When he finally did, it wasn’t difficult to notice the sadness in his frosty eyes, trailing over my face. Dark curls flopped in disarray, full lips paler than the healthy pink they normally displayed. My grip tightened around the strap to my bag, Harry’s fingers lightly brushing my hair away. I watched as his head tilted slightly, peering at me to get a better look. His assessing gaze was coupled with sadness, the tips of Harry’s long fingers gently angling my chin up.