TRIGGER WARNING: If you don't like cutting, or if it brings up too many emotions for you, please skip this chapter. It's not super graphic, I think. But yeah.
~Cat xx
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C stands for cuts
Proud was not the word to describe how Harry felt about the cuts and scars that lined his left forearm. They showed how weak he was, that's what he thought.
Harry had woken up on the floor next to his bed, in complete hysterics. He'd dreamed about her again. There were about three nights a week he had dreams about her. Sometimes, he would wake up smiling, others crying, and a few, screaming.
This, was a screaming morning.
He couldn't resist drawing the sharp blade of his knife against his skin this morning. It was his routine, usually. For a bit, everything, vanished, as all he focused on was the pain.
Red blood falls from his wrist onto his pants, slowly soaking in until Harry can feel the warmth of it on his skin.
He shudders.
Slowly, Harry lifts himself up off the bathroom floor, setting the small knife down on the counter.
He contemplates it.
And picks it up again, wrapping his fingers around the short handle. Harry grazes the blade across the delicate skin at the crook of his elbow. Wincing, he looks down at it and pulls the cold metal over the line once more, deepening the cut just a little.
More blood falls down his arm, mixing with that coming from his wrist, this time onto the white counter top. Harry sets the knife down and looks at the droplets in horror.
You are weak. He tells himself. Look what you've done.
The shocking contrast of red on white, knowing that the red is blood, that it's his blood, makes him violently sick into the toilet. Images of her flash into his mind without warning.
Copper hair.
Green eyes.
He is sick again.
Harry makes himself a promise. He's never cutting again, no matter how much he aches for the chill of a blade, cutting him open at his own will.
I can do this. He thinks. I'll do it for her.
YOU ARE READING
26 Letters ( A Harry Styles AU )
Любовные романыHarry is going insane. He's depressed and out of control, because on the day of his 19th birthday, his world is ripped away from him. He doesn't know how, or why, or if he'll ever see her again. His story, and memories, are told through the alphabet.
