Underneath My Skin

Ch. 34

Little girl , little girl,

Why are you crying?

Inside your restless soul,

your heart is dying.

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Harry's p.o.v

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My phone starts vibrating on my nightstand and I groan before rolling over and picking it up.

"Hello," I snap into the phone.

I look at my alarm clock and it's one in the morning. It's too fucking early for anyone to be calling me.

"Harry, I'm sorry to wake you. But it's important."

I instantly recognize the voice as Max's. I rub my eyes and sit up. Bianca stirs a little in her sleep. I need to be extra quiet.

"What's going on?" I whisper.

He sighs. "I was rewatching the video before I decided to call a somnologist, but then I saw something."

"What did you see?" I ask.

"I think you better have a look for yourself."

I sigh. "I'll be at your place in a few."

I hang up the phone and quietly slide out of bed. I throw on some basket ball shorts and a shirt as well as some shoes and rush to the elevator.

I park my car in Max's drive way and quickly get out of the car. I rush to the door and knock loudly. After a few minutes he opens the door and ushers me inside.

I follow him to the living room where he has the video of Briella sleeping on his flat screen. I sit on the couch and he sits next to me.

"Watch closely," he says.

I nod my head and he presses play. He fast forwards a few hours and pauses it.

"There!" he yells.

I flinch at his unexpected yell, but I quickly compose myself. I look at the screen and squint my eyes.

"Max, what the fuck am I suppose to be looking at?" I snap.

He stands up and walks to the tv. He points to a shadow. If you look hard enough, it looks like a man. I gasp. Holy shit.

He presses play again and I see myself walk into the room. He slows down the video.

"When you entered, the shadow backed away." he says.

I run my fingers through my hair as cold goose bumps rise on the surface of my skin. She's not schizophrenic. She really does see Jackson.

I feel like a complete asshole. She trusted me. She told me her deepest darkest secret and I diagnosed her with a disorder. Fuck me.

"What does this mean?" I ask softly.

"I honestly have no idea Harry," Max says frustratingly.

I can tell he cares about this. All I know is, I believe Briella and I want to be here for her.

"You know, when you were comforting her, I saw something different in you," he says softly.

I furrow a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I know you care deeply for her."

I sigh. "Of course I do. She's a patient. What kind of psychologist would I be if I didn't?"

He rolls his eyes. "Cut the bullshit. Most pychologists don't have sexual relationships with their patients."

I sigh deeply. "We are past that now."