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Journal Entry Twenty Four

Journal Entry Twenty Four

Pills. Pills. Swallow, repeat. Pills.

-H

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Harry sat in his office, staring at the computer when Emily walking through his doors and sat in the chair directly in front of him.

He almost groaned in irritation when she crossed her legs and stared pointedly at him. Over the past few weeks, he's tried his best to avoid her, but with the New Year's Eve gala approaching, he knew she'd be attempting to make her presence known.

And here she was, in a short red dress and seven inch heels, dressed like the devil she was.

"What do you want, Emily?" he finally asked, when she sat there without speaking for several minutes.

"Oh, so I exist now?" she said smartly, tilting her head. "Or maybe I really don't. You could be just hallucinating and imagining me because of your paranoid schizophrenia that you don't acknowledge, unless you're out fucking your HIPAA Law violating therapist."

Harry froze, ice running through his veins as he took in the words she just uttered. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. I wonder what the Wall Street Journal would think about a man who hears voices in his head running one of the top insurance firms in America?" She tapped her chin, as if she was contemplating what the article would actually say. "I know. 'Harry Styles: The Psychopath of Wall Street.'"

Harry heard enough. "Enough of this. What do you want?"

"Everything how it was a couple months ago," she coaxed, her sultry, deep voice now like nails to a chalkboard compared to Allison's light, airy voice. Allison.

She stood up and sauntered around the table to where Harry sat, and ran her fingers across the top of her dress shirt. "Everything was fine before. Let's go back to that."

"If you're talking about how we used to fuck and I never even had feelings for you that weren't sexual," he gripped her hand that was touching him harshly before throwing it off like it burnt his skin, "then I'll pass on that."

Emily's nostrils flared. "After everything we've been through, you're just going to throw me away in exchange for some black—"

"Get out," Harry seethed, shaking his head. He rose up from his seat, starting to get angry. "You have zero right to hold this over me. If you were this bold, you would've brought all this nonsense up at the shareholders' meeting. You're just a good fuck who got too ahead of herself thinking we were going to be lifelong partners."

"Lifelong partners like Allison and her boyfriend who conveniently went missing and died before you two began dating?" Emily said, shrugging her shoulders. "Tell me, are you going to kill me too just for saying all this, sociopath?"

"Keep making baseless accusations and telling silly fallacies, and I just might," he said calmly, although he was actually a bit frightened. How the hell did she know all this?

"Hm, well. We'll see, my love," she said, a smirk on her face foreboding enough. "I'm just saying, people will start to put two and two together, no?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, before sitting back down. "Yes, I'm sure they will. After all, who would believe the scorned whore versus a CEO?"

Her lips settled into a thin line before she scoffed and turned to leave. "I'd watch yourself, Harry. There's gonna be a day when you will reap what you sow."

"I guess that day isn't today though," he responded, looking at his computer to forget she was even in the room. "Please, send my regards to your father, the man whose words are actually worth a damn, and don't let the doors hit you on the way out. They can be quite harsh."

He heard the soft thump of her heels on the carpeted floor before the door closed with a soft click. Releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding, he placed his head in his hands to calm down.

There was no way she could actually prove it, could she? The case was closed already, but he felt as if there was that one detective who assumed there was a conspiracy behind everything.

He left an accidental trail that he thought Romanov would've taken care of.

How could you be so stupid? A voice said, which clouded his thoughts even more. What was once a bright day was now dark and dreary and the office dimmed as if it were nighttime. The phone rang, but the sound was distorted to his ears to sound slower than it was.

"Stella, please pick up the phone!" Harry called, but it felt as if he couldn't get his words out. He was sinking, sinking, sinking, into his chair and the more he struggled, the quicker he fell and the more air left his lungs.

He was slipping away, and he could feel his life flashing before his eyes. Harry felt a wave of regret for the lifestyle he lived; the vanity, his neuroticism, and his diagnosis. Why would he live the way he did with what little number of years he had?

"...Mr. Styles? Sir? Harry?" The voice of his assistant sounded through the buzzing in his head, enough for him to hear it, making everything halt.

"Y-yes?" He stammered out, finally being able to steady himself. He gripped his own body to make sure he was all there, before his eyes focused on Stella's confused gaze.

"Are you alright?" She questioned, her hands nervously gripping a manila file that he must've asked for before. "You were shaking and frozen at the same time—"

"I'm okay, thank you for the concern," He said, cutting her off. He didn't care for her kindness at the moment, not when he thought he was just inches away from death.

How could he have let this get the best of him? His hallucinations were never this bad to halt his daily ministrations.

She made you weak! A voice quipped sharply, causing him to widen his eyes. You deceived yourself into thinking you had a plan for her all along and you were just falling in love!

"Okay, well. Allison is here to see you as well, should I send her in?" Stella asked, setting the file down in front of him and walking back towards the door.

He adjusted his tie, and tied the front of his suit jacket down. "Yes, please do." A few minutes of silence passed, before he sighed and tidied his desk.

After all that just happen, you're going to let her come back? Harry, you stupid boy. You're just like your whore mother.

"Shut up!" He yelled, banging his fist on the mahogany desk and shoving his hand roughly in his hair. "Jesus Christ!"

"Harry?" Allison called out, standing by the door. He almost groaned, knowing she caught the last part of that whole ordeal.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she walked over to the chair directly in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine dine wine," he responded, before furrowing his eyebrows. What he just said didn't even make sense to him.

"Are you taking your pills?" She asked, her eyebrows raising, which he knew wasn't a good sign. Allison hasn't asked a question like that since he was her patient.

He was getting worse, and no matter how many pills he took, he couldn't fix the damage that was done.

"What's going on?" Allison pressed him, walking over to the side of his desk.

Harry shook his head, and smiled before cupping the side of her cheek and giving her a gentle kiss. She relaxed in his arms and allowed him to pull her into his lap.

"Nothing, I'm good," he stately firmed, before kissing her lips once more. "I"m okay."

She nodded before leaning back and watching the sunset behind Harry's head, ignoring the ominous shadow his lie cast over the room.

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a/n: I'm sorry. like seriously. 

I've been adjusting to college life, and I've been having the time of my fucking life omg. please go to college. it is the best shit ever.

but anyway, I finally sound time to sit down and type out a chapter; albeit, a short one, but one nonetheless.

love you guys,

rachel.