You Have Me

Ch.15

Have you ever been in one of those moods where you just want to grab everything and rip it from the walls and break everything because you feel broken and you want to scream and kick and cry because nothing feels right and it's all wrong and you don't feel right and.... I don't know anymore. I don't know what's right, or what's wrong. I can't explain my reasons for trusting Harry and the guys over my family. How was it possible that my father thought so low of me. But still expected me to stay? I feel like complete crap because even though I know what my dad said was wrong, I know that by this time next year he won't be here anymore. And I don't know if I could live with myself, knowing that the last time I saw my father I had ran out. But at the same time I don't know if I could bring myself to forget everything that was said about Harry.

Oh Harry.

He has been clinging to me ever since we got back three days ago. Of course I wasn't making it any easier. I had shut myself down. With everything that had happened I was surprised I haven't flung myself from the balcony. I appreciated Harry and the boys wanting to try and cheer me up, but I think I was a lost cost. So with them gone for a writing session or something (I'm not sure. I try and stay away from the band's business) I managed to convince Paul into letting my use the band's gym. I mentally praise myself as soon as I manage to find a way to burn off the energy (and it's not really energy, but if I don't release whatever it is soon I think I'll just end it all by jumping off of a building) I have buzzing through me. I work my body long and hard, pushing myself to my limits and fuck. I know I'm going to regret this tomorrow and I'm going to want to chop off my legs but I can't seem to stop. I have so many feelings running through me that there's a good chance I'm worse than a ticking time bomb.

I couldn't convince Paul to leave me alone down here. Every time I argued saying I was a big girl he just rolled his eyes and starting saying that if Harry found out he had left me alone in my condition (and really? that's offensive. My condition? What the hell) he'd rip his head off and send it to his wife. And right now-with the way I'm feeling-I'll be the one ripping heads off. But I won't send them out. That's Inhumane.

Paul's standing by the corner eyeing me curiously. His mouth is set in a frown and his arms are across his chest. But right now it's so easy to ignore him, that I do. I keep my gaze forward and keep the treadmill going on. And when this isn't enough I turn it up a level pushing myself into an early death.

I can ignore my guilt and all these shitty feelings. I can do this. I can do better.

When Paul walks towards me and moves to stop the tread mill I merely push his hand away and ignore the conversation buzzing around me. It hasn't been that long. And if I'm still feeling the same, I can go further.

Another hand reaches out and I'm about to bat it away; because why won't they let me run? Why won't they let me try and feel better? when I glance down and notice the familiar anchor tattoo on their wrist.

"Time to stop, Beth. Okay?" Harry says softly, and by now I'm resigned to anything that I don't fight it when Harry lowers the treadmill level until I'm walking briskly, and my body begins to cool itself.

He helps me off and tugs me gently outside of the work out area like a child. We keep walking until we reach our familiar hotel room. He disappears into the bathroom and I can hear the shower start up. Harry comes back out and takes my hand leading me inside and then walking out. It's warm and steaming and I wish I could stay here forever. I finally strip and step into the shower. I let out a small hiss when the warm spray hits my tired body. Everything is just going wrong. I'm wrong and a mess. I'm just a liability for Harry and I'm not good enough because I'm not like Lilly. If this is how my life was before my accident (and I still don't know what kind of accident I had) then do I really want to remember?