Unbroken: Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty Three

Now I know I haven’t updated in literally forever.  There were times when I felt myself giving up on Unbroken, I’m not going to lie but I just want you guys to know that I will never leave you hanging.  I don’t want to do that.  Even if it does take me time to update, I will still update.  I’m a teenager.  I get lazy and I want to hang out with my friends, read a good book or spend time with family.  I don’t write everyday.  There is times when I feel like what I write is never enough.  I just hope you will not give up on me.  Unbroken means a lot to me.  There’s times when I doubt just about more than half the story I have written because over time I do look back at past chapters and I’m like what the actual hell?  My writing has grown in the past year so I feel that sometimes I want to start over, but I know I can’t.  I’ve actually had this chapter done since like Wednesday but I like to revise things and sometimes I doubt what I write so that sucks but any whooooo I just wanted to say thank you to those that have not given up on my writing.  I promise I won’t let you down.  So please enjoy this long awaited chapter.

Harry’s POV:

               
                “It’s eleven and I feel like shit.” I flung myself on to my bed and kicked off my muddy Nike trainers.  The feeling of my warm comforter underneath soothed me near slumber. 

Louis chuckled and grabbed a water bottle from our mini fridge and threw it at me, “And you look like shit mate. Don’t forget about that.”

“Shut the hell up, Tomlinson.”  I grabbed the water bottle midair and finished it within seconds.  The material of my red v-neck tee clung to the upper half of my body, making it difficult to find any bit of warmth on my bed. “Hey, you look like shit too.  And you smell like sweat.”

“You smell yourself, Harry.  I still smell like my cologne.” Louis grabbed the collar of his shirt to make sure.  With one nod, he pointed his index finger right at me, “Yeah it is definitely you.”

He picked up my shoes and placed them neatly near my dresser.  Always keeping things clean, just in case somebody shows up.  I rolled my eyes.

Doubt it.

My fingers began to twirl the keys to Brentwood’s gym on my index finger.  The silver key ring caught the radiant light of the moon, causing me to turn around and admire the orb of light from the night’s sky.  My thoughts drifted to Carter.  They seem to always drift away and land on her, though I never did mind.  I take pleasure in thinking of her.

Since late Monday afternoon, I haven’t had a decent conversation with her.  And it’s Thursday, nearing midnight.  Just by looking at her, I could tell she was holding something from me.  But no matter how hard I tried to get through her, she always remained obstinate. She’s more closed off than ever.

Countless times I tried to get her to talk to me, but with every push her anger exceeded her breaking point.  When her irritation grew, so did mine.  But only a thousand times more. 

Carter seems different now.  She is cold and livid.  Her facial expression is vacant.  The color in her eyes.  Gone.  Her lips always pressed tightly together.  She’s holding something from me.  I know she is.  Perhaps she is trying to suppress a scream.  I don’t know but my curiosity can’t help but wonder what she is keeping to herself.  She is unresponsive and from the looks of it, she is in distress.  I can feel her drifting away from me.  And it is breaking me.