Pain 2: Him (H.S)

Chapter 17

"Harry, slow down!" The normal twenty minute drive from therapy to his house had only lasted ten minutes because he decided to let his anger control the gas petal.

Harry races up the street ignoring all my pleads for him to slow down as his tires screech and burn against the road to his driveway. As much as I want to sit him down and reassure that everything Dr. Milton said wasn't true, I'm not going to. I've learned not to do that anymore because I've been in this position far too many times and each time, I've made the same mistake in trying to get him to calm down by talking to him. I'll let him loosen on his own and whenever he's ready to talk, I'll be here.

"C'mon." He demands throwing his seat belt off and stepping out and I follow him. I don't remember the last time he had opened the door for me. I know it's a silly thing to say but he would always refuse to let me do it. I kind of miss it, as selfish as it sounds, I want him to start doing it again.

The heels of his boots click against the ground and I'm practically chasing after him even though he isn't running or trying to get away from me. The door nearly falls off it's hinges as he pushes it open, startling me for a second and my attempt to catch it before it collides with the wall has failed.

I want to tell him something, but I'm not sure what. Telling him to calm down or relax will only make things worse and I know he's too angry to talk anyway.

He tosses his keys on the table, it sliding just close enough to the edge without falling and turns the light on. "I'm so fucking sick of this." He paces back and forth, tugging at his hair and I watch his eyes twist in increasing anger, "I'm so fucking sick of being nice and doing what everyone tells me to do. I'm sick of people making all these absurd assumptions about me when they don't even know me!" He yells towards me, not at me, almost as if he's yelling just to let it out and I feel bad that I even agreed to let him go to that session. I should've known better than to.

"I know it's--"

"Don't," He puts his finger up cutting me off, "don't fucking talk. Don't talk anymore."

"I'm sorry." I say not angry or hurt that he said it, I know how frustrated and aggravated he must feel so I'm not going to argue back.

"Harry?" The familiar, sweet accented voice calls out from upstairs cutting off the words Harry was about to speak and both our heads snap towards the stairs.

"Mum?" Brows furrowed in surprise, Harry walks to the staircase and grabs the railing, leaning over to look up and she begins to walk down.

I'm rather excited to see her. I haven't in a really long time and I know she knew we broke up, and I'm guessing Harry hasn't told her we're back together, but I absolutely love this woman and am so glad she's back.

"Harry? Where did all your furniture go? And what the bloody hell happened to your door and window?" Frustration as if she has been through this before laces in her sweet tone as she walks down and Harry steps back towards me, stiffing his body unprepared to give an explanation.

For a woman her age, skinny jeans seems to adore and compliment her figure without making her seem youth-desperate. Her natural dark hair, like always, is in a loose bun and her trimmed side bangs are flipped like a wave above her forehead.

Neither of us know if we should talk or speak up and the anticipation of her reaching the bottom step is making Harry anxious. "Um, it broke." His voice has lowered and become the opposite of was it was just seconds ago, I'm assuming to not make her skeptical, and the second she looks up, her eyes meet mine and the concerned shade replaces with joy. "Alee!" She smiles and I approach her with open arms.

"Hi!" Her motherly embrace is unfiltered with genuine gladness and I can't help but to laugh at how tight she has me in her arms. She looks surprised which is understandable since she thought we had broken up, but the way she's smiling towards Harry makes it obvious that she's glad we're back.