Don't Wake Me Up || Discontinued

Chapter Twenty Three - "I Didn't Stop"

Harry looked down at his hands and played with his fingers. "Harry, tell me," I said, grabbing his hand. He shook his head and got up, heading towards the door.  I grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked, causing him to stumble back into his seat.

"I want to leave," Harry said, staring out the window across the room.

"I know you do." I said, grabbing his hand. He shook me off.

"Look, Harry," Dr. Wembly said "We both know it's hard, but you have to tell us. Louis loves you and look how scared he is. He has no idea what is going on. He wants you to be okay, he wants you to be happy. Please, tell us. You know we wont judge. That's what we are here for. Come on, Harry, please." Harry shifted on the couch, folding his legs beneath him.

"Well. . " he said, slowly, "I never stopped, Louis, I'm sorry."

"Stopped?" I asked, staring straight at Harry. He was still lookin out the window, at God knows what. He did this sometimes: He would turn himself completely off not in a sexual sense but in an emotional sense. He would just stop making eye contact and smiling and crying and everything else in between. It's like he wasn't there: like he was the dead walking. I had gotten like that once or twice. The first time was after my first suicide attempt. I wouldn't eat, and when i would, it was only Potatoes. I said they were brown like shit and that's what i was. I don't know. Either way, I wouldn't eat anything but potatoes, I didn't make eye contact, I never cried, despite everyone's eforts to make me laugh, I wouldn't and I stared into space all when I wasn't sleeping or making myself sing or talk to fans. It was almost as if the dead boy inside of me came out for a visit. This, on the other hand, has happened to Harry many times.

"Cutting, Louis. I still cut. Like every day." he said, turning to look at me. He unzipped her pants and pulled down his boxers, revealing the spot I had just moments before. It was covered in cuts and scars. My hand jumped to my mouth, covering it. I felt like I was choking. "Why do you think I never wanted to sleep with you lately? You'd see it."

"Oh, my gosh, I. . ."

"You're sorry, I know. It's my fault, Louis. Save your breath. I love you. It's just not your fault. I could've came to you, but i didn't. Don't hate me?" I shook my head.

"I don't hate you, I love you."

"Well, I see we have a breakthrough." Wembly said, startling me. I forgot he was in the room. "I can see you both need some alternatives. I'll read you a list, you can listen and then I'll give it to you to photocopy or pick some to write down. Okay?"

"Okay." I said, nodding towards Harry. He moved closer to me, curling into a ball against my side.

"Alternatives for self-harm: cutting, burning, slapping, bruising and biting. Snap a rubber band on your wrist, jump up and down very hard, eat something spicy, hold or suck on an ice cube, tell yourself that you'll hurt yourself in ten minutes and keep going until it goes away, talk to someone, let yourself cry, watch a movie. cut up pictures of yourself or people, stab cardboard or a water bottle but be careful, punch a pillow or something soft, throw putty at a wall, scream, draw or write your feelings out then tear it up, go for a walk, treat yourself, in your case. . . get it on, have a contest with yourself and see how long you can sit still, write on yourself, use one of those websites where you cut the screen but be careful so you don't get triggered more, sing, read a book, relive old memories, use a pasttime, tell yourself that you don't need this but you want it, smile for a minute, have a pillow fight with a wall, clap your hands, wax your legs (which I don't think you'll do), drink cold water or splash it on your face, put glue on your hands and feel it off, massage where you want to hurt yourself, take a hot shower or bath, arm wrestle someone, put muscle relaxant on where you want to hurt yourself (some tingle) and count to 500 or one thousand." Doctor Wembly took a deeo breath and put the paper down, then smiled at us.

"I liked those." I said, leaning forward and picking up the paper.

"Me too," Harry said, sitting up and looking at the list over my shoulder. "I want a photocopy. We can hang it on the fridge." He smiled. I nodded, then handed he paper back to the therapist. The doctor got up and walked to the far corner by the window and opened up the top of the copy machine. He put the paper inside and pressed a bunch of buttons. It made noises and seemed lke it was shaking, then spit out a copy from the side. It went flying across the room. Wembly chased it, picked up, straightene his shirt and went back to the macine to grab the original. He came back and placed the original down, then sat. He handed me the paper. I took it and stood up. He followed suit.

"Oh, look, your time is up."  He said, shaking my hand. "I wish you both the best of luck. Hope to hear from you again with good news. If you need, I'll be there for telephone sessions since you're on the road." I nodded.

"Thank you." I said.  Harry stood up and fixed his hair, then put his shoe back on. He offered the doctor his hand. They shook.

"Thank you so much. We will definitely get back to you." The doctor raised his eyebrows towards me and smiled. Yes i mouthed, then followed Harry out.

[A/N: It took me forever to write this chapter because I'm a weenie and was on my phone at the same time. Okay. Byeeeee

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