Fighter |No Longer writing|

Part 76

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   I'd like to dedicate this chapter to LostAndSoAfraid, her poetry helped me discribe Katherine's pain and her words are beautiful<3 

                      Please go check out her books

Katherine’s POV

     “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I shook my head in my hands. 

“To be honest, neither can I,” Harry chuckled as we stepped in to the room that would be lifted and give us the great view of the London eye.

   Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as the doors closed. A small jolt shook the room before we slowly started moving. I held on to Harry’s hand as I looked out at the beautiful city. His palms were surprisingly sweaty.

“You nervous to?” I giggled.

I had to nudge him to get his attention, “What? Oh no.”

I sighed and let go of his hand. He’d been spacy lately, mentally and physically. When he suggested this, I knew it was an attempt to get my mind off of my ill father. I appreciated it, but it would’ve been better if Harry was there with me.

   I took a seat on the bench and looked out the clean glass.

“I’m sorry Katherine,” he sighed and stood in front of me, “I just have a lot on my mind.”

I shook my head and shrugged, “It’s fine, I get it.”

He took a deep breath, “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while now. Katherine, I know we’ve had our ups and downs. I know we aren’t the cliché like in the movies, but I love that. Katherine, I love you,” he kneeled down on one knee and reached in to his coat pocket.

Tears flowed from my eyes and I shook my head. He held out a small box. His hands were shaking, he seemed so nervous. As one hand held the bottom, the other went to lift the top to reveal the big question.

  My hand quickly covered his, preventing him from opening the box that would’ve opened up so many dreams. His head quickly whipped up from looking at his hands and his smile flipped.

My jaw trembled; I couldn’t even bring words to my lips. They sat at the back of my throat, making Harry’s eyes water. I took a deep and shaky breath, Harry got up and sat down next to me.

“Why not?” he whispered.

A cry escaped my mouth, I quickly covered my mouth.

“I don’t understand,” I looked up to Harry and regretted it.

  His eyes were being blinded with water, his dimples were no longer visiting and his voice no longer had a happy tone.

 I took another deep breath, he deserved to know why, no matter how hard it would be to explain.

“I don’t deserve you. I still don’t know why you stuck around for this long. You deserve someone who makes you happy, and returns the love you give,” he began to speak, but I wouldn’t let him talk me out of this.

“All I’ll cause you are headaches and too many hospital bills. If we got married it wouldn’t last long,” I shrugged.

Harry bolted up and paced for side to side, “How could you say that!”

“Harry you don’t love me!” it took everything I had in me to say that.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to me, “Why are you trying to convince yourself not to marry me?”

I took my glance away from him. I looked out at the sparkling lights.

I gulped down the lump in my throat to make way for the lies I was about to feed him, “I don’t have to convince myself, it’s all right there in front of me, I’ve just been overlooking it.”

“What? What are you talking about!” his yelling made me jump.

“You still feel guilty about your past, when we meet I reminded you of her and you thought if you could fix me all was settled,” my lips quivered.

“You know that’s a load of bullshit,” he shook his head.

“You don’t love me,” I said quietly.

Harry stood right in front of me and glared down, “You really think I would’ve stayed up for days on end worried about you, wondering if you were going to wake up. I put my life on hold, hell I put a one in a life time opportunity on hold for you. You’re saying I spent months not being able to think about another woman, and yet it’s just because I have some sort of guilt?”

I looked up and nodded.

A vein popped from his neck. The cabin came to a stop, but Harry lowered his head closer to mine, “These past months I’ve been told by countless people you’ve been through some tough shit and that you’ve gone a bit crazy. I always told them they were the crazy one’s because I never saw it. but now, Katherine I can honestly say, you’ve gone mad.”

   I gasped and bit my tongue.

The doors slide open, Harry didn’t give me another minute of his time. He stormed out of the eye without a word.

  I stood on two shaky legs and walked home. When I finally walked through the front door I slammed it shut. I finally breathed. Throughout the walk home I felt as if something was pushing on my chest, but I could release the air.

  I gasped for air and slide down the door. My face was wet and cold from my tears. Harry’s face was stained in my mind, his hurt and his voice played over and over again like a broken record. I began coughing, all the sadness and frustration that had been building up in me I let it all go. I screamed. I screamed so loud it echoed through the halls.

  I stopped my legs from squirming and brought them in to my chest.

“Katherine I can honestly say, you’ve gone mad.”

I screamed once more, trying to block out his confession. It didn’t work; the pain of his honesty stung me. There was only one thing I would think of that would distract me enough to temporarily forget what had just happened.

   I stared down at what I had just done. I had fought against the urge for months. When I started all those years ago, I thought I would be able to handle it and keep it under control.

   When the blade made contact with my skin, the temporary release felt so good when everything seemed to be going so wrong. The blood that streamed from my body was all the same no matter where I had punctured the skin. I found the rush very addictive.

  I thought I could control it. Just a few deep cuts here and there, in easy to hide places. As the months went on they progressively moved around. From my wrists to my thighs they spread like cancer. I told myself they would heal than I could do the process all over again.

   I would make small incisions on my wrist and cover them up with my sleeves.  Instead of waiting for them to heal, I would locate a new, cleaner spot to tear up.

It became impossible to control.

I found each time I grabbed the razor each cut became deeper than the last. The scars were staining my skin.

   I was depending on such a harmful act. I couldn't go three days without cutting. I didn't think anyone would find out. I never wanted to hurt anyone other than myself.

I excluded myself from others. My friends began to whisper, they knew what was happening.

I became an expert on my body. I knew every inch I was destroying. I hated myself and still do.