California Dreaming

Chapter Eighteen

   “Jia,” my mother hurried over to me the second I walked through the front door, wrapping her arms around me as she held my head her head against my chest. I closed my eyes wearily and sucked on my bottom lip, as she pulled me tighter to her. She was small, at least four inches shorter than I, but despite her size, she was strong, and it was rare that I saw her this emotional, this desperate. 

   She finally pulled back and stretched her thin, delicate arms up to my face, caressing my cheeks with long, careful fingers. She went up on my tip toes and kissed me affectionately, hugging me once more. 

   “Are you okay?” She asked, whispering into my ear. I felt my father squeeze my shoulder comfortingly before disappearing into the kitchen which, from first glance, had been cleaned up swiftly, as to not remind me of the disturbing events of last night. However, I still found it difficult to look at it, at the place where Gabriel had nearly died. 

   “I’m,” I paused, taking a deep breath, “I’m dealing with it.” I could not say that I was alright, because I wasn’t. I was filled with hatred and despair and worry and all of this was magnified by the fact that I was totally exhausted. “I’m going to go and get some sleep,” I slipped from my mother’s grasp and started quickly up the stairs. 

   I walked into my room and sat on the edge of my bed, staring at myself in the dressing table mirror. I looked like shit. My hair was matted and hung around my face messily, so I pulled it back into a pony tail with the elastic band on my wrist and stood up, going to the bathroom and starting to run the taps. There was a smear of blood smudged across my cheek and my makeup had run down over my cheeks. I lent down and splashed my face with the warm water, scrubbing at the dirt and grime left over from the night before. 

   I walked back to my room, my body feeling numb all over as I collapsed down to my bed and slipped under the covers. Suddenly, the tears began to fall, fast and unfaltering, as there was a sudden realization of all that had happened. My boyfriend was in the hospital, Gabes had been fucking stabbed, and nothing I did now would feel right, I could not feel safe the way things were now. Harry could be watching me, he could be staring at me right this second. He could be texting me, taking pictures, tracking down the people I love until there was just him, and I, and then I would have no choice. 

   I swung my arms freely at my sides, my head moving to the heavy beat of the song. The thump of the drums vibrated through my body, making my heart beat hard against my ribs. I looked over the band members, watching them with awe; this is what I loved, the music, I needed it. The keyboard player was in the shadows and there was something about his face which intrigued me, something about the smooth planes of his bone structure which made him attractive to me. He had his laptop hooked up to his keyboard, creating an electronic synth effect. He was tall and skinny, with a heart shaped face and combed brown hair. His skin was perfectly smooth and his long, sinuous fingers flitted over the keys like fairies, lit only by the low stage lighting. 

   “Ji!” My friend giggled madly, grabbing hold of my arm and shaking it irritatingly. “You’re the best, you know?” She laughed again, like what she had said had been the most hilarious thing in the universe. 

   “Thanks, Jess,” I smiled, playing along,” you think we should get you a taxi now?” I raised my eyebrows and she began to frown, shaking her head vigilantly. 

   “I don’t want to go yet,” she pouted, “I’m having too much fun!” 

   “I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink,” I took her hand and began to pull her through the crowd, away from the stage and the bar and the alcohol she had obviously been abusing that night. 

   “Liar!” She began to laugh hysterically and I rolled my eyes, taking her out to the front of the venue and sitting down on a street bench, letting the cold air bite against my flushed cheeks. 

   “What was it this time?” I sighed, brushing a lock of dank, dark hair from her eyes, as I saw her porcelain skin turning a sickly green colour. 

   “Isn’t vodka so yummy?” She giggled meekly, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. 

   “Let’s get you home, Jessie,” I sighed, taking my phone and dialing the cab company, giving our address and then waiting outside, continuing to squeeze Jess’ hand reassuringly. 

   I took deep breaths of the cold air and let it fill my lungs, clearing my head. People began to exit the venue and I assumed the gig had ended. A few teenagers stumbled out, obviously just as drunk as Jess, and fell into cabs or began to tumble down the street, talking loudly. 

   “Hey,” I heard someone as they sat down opposite me and my near unconscious friend. 

   “Umm, hey,” I said warily, looking up at him cautiously, to see piano guy, smiling hopelessly at me. It was still hard to clearly make out his features in the moonlit street, but there was something about his smile, something comforting, something familiar. “You were good out there,” I gestured to the building where his band had just performed. 

   “Thanks,” he replied modestly, “you just,” he paused and chuckled anxiously, scratching at his jawline, “you seem cool?” The way in which he spoke, the catches in his speech, the  uncertainty of his voice, made him seem so much less threatening. 

   “Thanks,” I smiled bashfully, feeling my cheeks blush a little. 

   The boy pulled a packet out of his jeans and began to roll a spliff, moving his tongue across the paper to seal it, before pulling a blue, plastic lighter from his jacket. After taking a puff or two he held it out to me and I took the joint, holding it between my first finger and thumb, breathing in the sickly sweet taste and holding it in my lungs indulgently. I breathed it out and watched the smoke disappear up into the night sky. My head became light as I stared up at the stars, tipping my head to the side curiously. 

   I saw a taxi pull up and I stood up quickly, leaning into the window and asking the taxi driver if it was ours, it was. 

   “Come on, Jess,” I hauled Jessica up off the seat and she groaned in response. 

   “Here, let me help,” the guy stood up suddenly, holding his spliff in the edge of his lips and putting an arm around Jess, taking most of her weight as we made it to the cab. I opened the back and piano boy lifted her into the seat. 

   “Thanks,” I smiled, telling the cab driver my address before getting into the back besides Jess. “I’m Jia, by the way,” I said out of the open window, as the boy lend down, putting his hand through the window to shake mine. 

   “Harry.” 

   Why did he have to change? Why did something in his brain click, turning him into this sadistic, psychotic, delusional stalker? 

   I still had a place for him in my heart, the Harry who had helped with my drunk best friend and taken me for walks along the beach. The boy who had written me songs and serenaded me at school in front of all of my friends. However, this new Harry, the psychopathic Harry, would never be able to have me; I would rather die.