Chapter 2

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Elizabeth's POV


The text was a prank. It had to be.


Those small sentences kept repeating in my mind, convincing me that the message wasn't from him. He left me for a reason. Harry didn't want me then and he doesn't want me now. The day dragged by slower than normal, mostly because I kept glancing at my phone, waiting for another message. I'm pathetic, I've realized, but at least I haven't responded and I don't plan on it.


I throw my keys on the counter, a loud clang echoing through my silent apartment and making me cringe. I walk to the bathroom first just like every other day and this time I don't even flinch when the blade cuts my skin. My phone chimes, breaking the quietness. Almost in a haze, I pick it up and read the message.


Unknown number: I'm sorry.


Without really meaning to, I drop my phone before backing away from it. Denial grabs my leaping heart and holds it under control. I shake my head, clutching my dark hair and tugging at its roots.
Who does he think he is? Does he know how much those two messages have sent my mind into chaos? Does he care?


My feet unwillingly lead me to my closet, and I reach inside, pulling out a random outfit that surprisingly matches. My body still feels numb when I exit the apartment, entering the crowded New York streets.
I let out a soft sigh of relief as I walk into the only public library you can find in the middle of New York City. The comforting smell of paper fills my senses and Harry temporarily disappears from all of my twisted thoughts. The old librarian, Lisa, waves at me with a friendly smile that I attempt to return. We always have the same procedure when I walk through the library doors. She smiles a genuine smile and I grin back, but it never reaches my eyes and she knows that.


I walk to my regular spot, a secluded area in the back of the library that holds a small, old leather couch. Book shelves surround the dusty room and I fall onto the worn couch, closing my eyes, attempting to forget all of the troubles that haunt my thoughts.


I reach over and grab the same book I always read. The Fault In Our Stars. My mind shuts down as I become engrossed in the seemingly perfect love story. Time flies by without my approval and the library becomes vacant, other then Lisa and I. Just as I reach the part when Augustus confesses his love for Hazel, the bell that signals someone's arrival at the library chimes.
By this late in the evening, it's usually just Lisa and me reading silently so when I hear heavy footsteps shuffling in between the book shelves, I immediately become suspicious. My hands shake when I set the book down and stand up, peeking out of my small space. Lisa is talking quietly with a tall man, who's back is to me. I sigh in relief when I see her laugh softly in reply to the strangers comment.
But my brief moment of peace is destroyed quickly.


My heart suddenly picks up speed and the palms of my hands become sweaty. I back away from the two people, hitting a bookshelf, causing a couple novels to come crashing down on me. A yelp of alarm escapes my lips and I cover my head. Lisa and the all too familiar boy turn towards me, causing my stomach to drop.


A pair of dark eyes that broke me, meet mine. Lisa frowns when she sees the look of panic on my face but I can't look away from him. His lanky form stiffens and hands that used to hold me form fists that could easily knock anyone out. My small body stays completely frozen while my mind screams for me to run.


He looks different.


Not as care-free. Tattoos cover his right arm and you can see the ink that decorates his chest beneath the white shirt he is wearing. His face is emotionless, but the eyes that I fell in love with tell me a different story.
His lips form my name, but I can't stay any longer to hear what he says afterwards. My legs finally unfreeze and I run out the library doors, out onto the dark New York streets. Harry doesn't come after me, but I don't expect him to. He left me all those months ago for a reason.
The cold November air bites my exposed skin, sending shivers through my body. It's not until tears are repeatingly running down my cheeks that I notice I'm crying. I subconsciously trace the scar on my wrist, walls are already starting to build up in my mind. I choke back a sob when I stumble into the small apartment and collapse on the floor. I inhale sharply, more tears escaping.

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