A Dreamers Dream

Guilt, shame and heartache. Dublin, Ireland

I guess the one benefit to this whole mess is that now Paul's got me on what he calls 'light duties'. Which basically seems to means anything I can do with one hand. I get to finish hours before the rest of the crew have completed takedown after the shows and manage to sneak away to my room without anyone trying to convince me to go out for a drink with them. Or worse, ending up getting back when Sammy's already asleep and snoring loud enough to wake the dead as usual.

I don't want to be the boring moody one, always hiding away and missing out on all the fun, but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to pull myself together. No matter how many almost unbearably hot showers I take, I can still feel his fingertips digging into my thighs. His hand grabbing roughly at my breast.

I've brushed my teeth a thousand times, but I swear I can still taste the coffee that stained his lips when he forced them on to mine. Although my bruises are starting to fade to a dull yellowish colour in places now, and the pain in my hand is much less than it was, there doesn't seem to be a minute of the day when I am not thinking about what that... that... man did to me.

Maybe it's time to just call it a day? I wonder as I make my way up the stairs of the hotel back to mine and Sammy's room. Stop play acting and trying to convince myself and everyone around me that I'm alright, and head back home.

Back to my little flat in London, back to my little purple car and trawling up and down the country playing the same songs in the same tired old venues. I am sure I could get a few of my old gigs back if I made enough phone calls and begged the right people, I could get away with not playing my guitar until my hand heels.

God knows I can't stay here. I can't keep avoiding Harry forever. Eventually, I am going to end up having to speak to him and then what? Do I tell him what happened? I'm still not sure what his reaction would be. One thing I do know though, is that it would make for a really fucking awkward friendship afterwards regardless. Do keep it to myself? And just hope that he doesn't send any more unsuspecting women Novak's way? If he hasn't already, and pretend like everything's normal?

Clumsily, I pull the key card for the room out of my pocket, cursing my useless left hand, and push it into its slot on the door. It takes me three tries before the bloody thing actually opens, the little red light winking at me sarcastically until it eventually turns green and I hear the lock click. What was wrong with regular old metal keys? These things never fucking work, I think to myself as I push open the door.

It takes my brain a few seconds to catch up with the sight that greets me when I make my way into the room, it just looks so bizarre that I can't quite get my head around it and I have to blink a few times before I convince myself that my eyes aren't deceiving me.
There, lying across my bed in loose yellow trousers and a white T-shirt, one arm slung behind his head and the other holding his phone. With his eyebrows furrowed together in concentration, looking just like a regular twenty-four-year-old guy is Harry. Shit.

"Crap!" He complains, as he jumps off the bed when he notices me, dropping his phone on the floor in the process. "Sorry, you scared me." he adds, and I can't help but raise my eyebrows at him.

"Erm, I am the one who's just walked into her hotel room to find a superstar lounging on her bed. Yet you're the one that's scared?" I say briskly, my voice coming out a little harsher than I intended it to. Was he always this good looking? I wonder as I hover uncomfortably in the doorway, unsure what to do. My first instinct is to ask him to leave.

"What are you doing in here, Harry?" I ask him.
Slowly he starts to step towards me, and without thinking, I flatten myself against the wall behind me, leaving plenty of space between me and the still open door for him to exit through without touching me. I can't let anyone touch me. Not Clark, barely even Sammy, certainly not Harry.