Chapter 8

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Christy's POV

I locked the door to the toilet behind me, tears rushing down my face. I thought I was going to be okay with no breakdowns. I was doing just fine until he asked me about the cut on my face. I did my best to hide it, but it was too late. He had seen it. What could he be thinking? He probably thinks im a freak that cries at everything. hat the fuck am I going to d-. There's a knock at the door that interupts my thinking.

"Chrisy? Y-you alright?" Harry stutters, but his voice is filled with concern. I can't tell him the truth, and I can't seem to lie to him. I'll bend the truth that's all! "Yeah, I'm alright." I step out of the loo wiping tears off my damp cheeks. I stare at the tiles on the floor avoiding eye contact with Harry. Before I can apologise for my actions Harry speaks, "I'm really sorry if I upset you at all. I didn't mean to in anyway. I'm sorry."

"No no. Don't apologise I should be the one apologising here. I got all girly on you and didn't mean to. I'm sorry." I say and Harry hsakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. You're the one that has nothing to be sorry for." I know he's being serious but I couldn't help but giggle.

"What's so funny?" He asks scrunching his eyebrows together.

"Are we really about to get into an argument over who's sorry?" I laugh. Harry laughs at the same realisation. "Yeah, I guess we are." He paused for a moment and stepped closer, "As long as you're okay, I'm okay." I don't know what I did to get this boy's kindness. All I ever did was lie, get high, get drunk, and sleep with random boys. I just don't get it.

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Harry and I ended up on my couch watching TV. He had attempted to put his arm around me but something in his head told him not to, or so I assume. Good thing he listened or else there would be a problem; well almost a problem. 

I don't know how long we have been sitting here, but something tells me to look at the clock. It's 1:30 in the afternoon. My father doesn't work weekends; I wonder why he is out this late. I check my phone to see if he has called or left me text and there's nothing. He is being surprisingly quiet. 

Well haven't you figured that out fast, my conscience tells me. I ignore it and continue to think about why my father is being so...silent? He told me this morning he was going out but left the details out. I think of all the possible places he could be. The pub doesn't open until 4, he doesn't shop for anyone but himself and that usually takes 15 minutes. Then it hit me like a truck coming at full speed. 

My father is with that woman he was with at Bobby's when Harry and I were there. I don't even wan to know what they are doing. I force myself to stop thinking about it and focus on what's happening in front of me. Harry is laughing up a storm at the show that's on. Must be his favourite if it's making him cry of laughter. I don't know what show it is because I never watch the tele. 

I think this persons name is Alan Carr or something like that. I start to zone out, not paying attention to the TV. I can't seem to focus on anything anymore. Well anyting but, No don't even think about it! I tell myself.

Without realising it, I get up and walk towards the kitchen. I don't know why I'm in here, it's not like I eat. As I open the cabinet to get a glass, I hear footsteps coming from the cooridor.

"I have to head out soon. My mum is probably getting worried about me." Harry says to me. My back is turned from him but I can hear the hurt in his voice. I turn around and the look on his face matches his voice. When I saw him standing in the doorway to my kitchen, I just knew. I knew I never wanted to see that look on his face ever again. 

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