Misconceptions 》Styles

{11} pressure

i hope you all like the chapter, i'm sorry for the wait, and i love all of you more than you will ever know. x

     Harry has risen from the couch, he now hovers above me, his green eyes burning holes through my flesh. I cast my gaze to the ground, pushing my nails into the palm of my hand as hard as I possibly can. That box was never meant to be found, much less by Harry of all people.

    “Skylar,” Harry says strongly, lowering his body so that he is at eye level with me. His finger presses against my chin and he softly shifts my head upwards to look at him. I pull from his grasp, leaving his fingers hovering in the air.

    “You had no right to-.”

    “That does not answer the question. You know,” He stands up and crosses the room, pulling out a handful of thick letters from the box “I always wondered why you were still angry at me. Why you never tried to contact me. I didn’t know if you didn’t believe what I said in these letters or if maybe redemption was impossible after all the pain I had caused you. Yet it appears that you never even had the decency to open a single one. I wrote and wrote until my fingers were numb, Sky. And you didn’t open a single one. But you kept them, and Snuggles. So that must count for something, does it not?”

    “They serve as a reminder for my hatred of you. Looking at the worn letters and that damn bunny’s mud stained fur. The letters remind me of the way my hands shook when I held them. The way the memories flooded back instantly and I fell to the floor in agony with rain pounding on my body when the messenger dropped it off. When I saw your neat little handwriting, all lined up and spilling lies. What could those letters possibly say that would make me hate you any less? Harry, you don’t understand-you will never understand- just how much you hurt me. You ruined me and everyday that I look at you, I feel the pain all over again. I hate you, Harry. I loathe you with every fiber in my being and no damn letter is going to change that. Do you understand?”

    “I understand that you’re scared. Of me, of people in general. You hide yourself away because you’re scared that you’re going to be hurt again Skylar but not everyone is out to get you.”

    “You don’t know me.”

    “It’s not like you’ve given me the chance.” He says, looking at me in exasperation.

    “Please, just get out. I’m sure you’ll have another chance to irritate me to no end the next time we’re forced to work together.” I turn my body away from him, wrapping my arms around my knees tightly. I hear him sigh heavily and he takes several steps towards the door before pausing.

    “You know Skylar, I don’t think that you hate me nearly as much as you say you do.”

••••

    “Up, up, up, my darling!” I groan and pull the soft blanket up over my head, willing the couch to suck me right up so I could disappear. The jingling of keys had already risen me from the sleep that of course was cut short --when was the last time I was actually able to get a decent amount of sleep?-- and all it took was the slamming of my front door and Randy’s too cheery to be real voice to do the rest of the job. I was beyond tired of people constantly waking me. It took ages for me to fall into slumber, and seconds for it to be torn away. Perhaps I had insomnia, maybe it was the fact that my sleeping pattern was a downright mess because of work, or maybe it was just Randy and Harry, who apparently think sleep deprivation isn’t a problem. I wanted nothing more --other than to attain that seemingly impossible perfection --than to stay right here on this couch, sleeping the day away with my demons at rest. Well, being carried to my bed wouldn’t be too bad either since last night I was far too angry and weak to do much more than strain to reach the blanket strewn on the other couch. “Are you awake?”