Next To Love [Book 2]

Chapter 43 : Breakdown

Melanie

Personally, waking up at early morning hours is quite a difficult and tedious task for me. However, this particular morning stood out from the rest.

I woke up suddenly without a warning, my chocolate brown eyes wide open as I'm met with dim, dark lighting. I could feel my heart pulsing and rattling against my ribcage as a few beads of sweat trickle down my forehead like I've woken up from a cold-sweat, as if I've had some horrific nightmare that possessed me to wake up at five in the morning, but it wasn't because of that at all.

I didn't wake up because of a nightmare... I woke up to a nightmare.

The sounds that echoed from the bathroom only feet away from the bed I rested upon were horrific. The door leading into the bathroom was barely left agar yet I could still hear the intense, ear-piercing gagging which slithered between the thin opened space and found its way to alert my once unconscious body causing em to wake up.

Dressed in only my rosy pink silk nightgown, I didn't hesitate before rushing towards the bathroom with a fast beating heart and trembling, weak muscles due to not only me restlessly waking up, but also because I was afraid to face the sight which was cruelly waiting for me behind that slightly opened door.

I might've accidentally made an indent on the wall when I pushed the door open (with an unexpected force) and perhaps Harry will nag me for that later on, as for right now we were both much more occupied with the fact that Harry's throwing up the toxic chemicals he willingly consumed the night prior and was now brutally enduring the pain of his consequences.

The unpleasant sight of Harry's weak, emaciated body hunched over the toilet as he's still dressed in the black trousers and white tank top from the day before will be a memory which will forever be archived into my mind. Considering I didn't bother ridding him of much clothing besides his expensive Armani button-up top last night, both his tank top and pants have been stained with his own vomit. And oddly enough, for once in his entire life he managed to physically appear like a human train wreck.

Slowly and weakly, he lifts his head, sporting his untamed chestnut curls from waking up in what is safe to assume was an abundant hurry. Before my eyes connected with his, I become fixated on the abnormality of his pale skin. The paleness of his skin was nothing out of the ordinary, what was substantially alarming was the fact that his skin far more washed out than normal, seeming as if the color has developed some sickly grey undertones making him appear almost as if he's evolved from a supernatural species. His colorless lips and lifeless green eyes didn't help revive an once of both his physical and mental sanity, it only made it worse.

I have never seen him like this, and it makes me literally sick to my stomach to have to witness something like this ever again.

I'm almost afraid to get closer to him, as if he'll attack like a vicious animal if I do, but that's clearly impossible considering he can barely pick his own head up, let alone have unusual reflexes to close human proximity. Naturally, I fall to my knees beside him, ignoring the pain of the cold, hard tile flooring I receive from doing so and instead finally meet his hostile gaze as some form of consolation of my own. On the contrary, I found none when I realized his eyes possessed anything but a form of consolation.

For a second he breaks our gaze to eye what I was wearing as if anything else was more important than the fact that only minutes go was fiercely vomiting. He then resumed our locked gaze as we both wondered who'd open their mouth to speak first. For a few seconds more we were both speechless, neither of us expecting this at such an early hour, until he eventually broke the silence and spoke.