H&M

Chapter 25

"You must not know me. Ain't never been good to anybody, man I will step up to anybody, don't talk to me like you anybody."

Harry • • •

I paced my room as hot tears rushed down my face. If I focused hard enough, I could pinpoint the very thing I said wrong. She was right, I was fucked up in the head. I slept with all these girls in order to fill some void, to prove to myself that I was needed.

"Fuck." I yelled into the empty room as my right fist collided with the wall. The drywall crumbled from the impact, leaving a fist-sized hole and my hand bloodied.

My rage is interrupted by the ringing of my phone. My ringtone had been "Drugs" by EDEN, a band that Maya introduced me to. My heart raced, anticipating it was Her calling to tell me she loved me, and that everything had been forgiven.

I looked at the illuminated phone, it was Gemma. Her bright smile took up almost the whole screen. How did she end up with such a fuck-up as a brother?

I pocketed the phone, ignoring its cries for attention. I needed to be alone, with my fists and the drywall.

I flexed my hand, making sure my fingers weren't broken.

I left my bedroom and made my way to the kitchen. I kneeled, searching through the cupboards. There was no alcohol allowed on campus, therefore I had elaborate hiding places for my liquor that even I forgot sometimes.

I finally got ahold of a tall, clear brown bottle. The label read Barbancourt, fancy Caribbean rum. Maya had introduced me to it, ignoring that fact that she was a few years too young to drink. I remembered the evening clearly.

She had brought it to my room, under her large sweatshirt (which was originally mine), it was the funniest sight to see.

"I'm already showing." She laughed, alluding to pregnancy as she rubbed her "belly".

"What's under there?" I asked, laughing along.

"It's our baby, Harry." She was clearly already tipsy, and I loved every moment of it. "And our baby is like, 46% alcohol."

She finally removed the bottle from underneath her attire.

"This looks expensive." I raised my right brow, examining the bottle.

"It was Micah's." The mention of his name had no affect on me then, but standing in that kitchen, it brought shivers down my spine.

She told me she never removed it from the suitcase she brought it in, from the fear that it would be confiscated.

"This is probably my favorite." She laughed. We had been drinking and talking for hours, and it didn't take very long for it to become my favorite too.

I downed another shot, before giving up and drinking straight from the bottle. The substance burned my mouth and throat, I could almost feel it make its path to my stomach.

My phone rang again, this time I wasn't hoping it was Maya. It it was, I'd probably beg her to love me again, to forgive me and just come over. I'd probably curse and sob and she'd be forced to hang up.