Honey | HS

【8】

Harry's POV

Rolling over, the right side of the bed is empty. Realization hits me as I think back to earlier, in the morning. The feeling of waking up next to someone was different. It felt strange but something I definitely could get use to. After she had hurried out the door, I couldn't help but lazily slump back into bed.

Her scent is still on the sheets and my eyes flutter closed, the smell is something sweet like flowers, like honey and strong like the perfume she wears. Laying onto my back, I stare up at the ceiling.

My thoughts repeatedly replaying the look on her face as I stood four stories up on the ledge, ready to jump and end it all. I barely even remember the events leading up to that happening. My mind jumbling to make sense of what my cousin had told me just a few hours prior. She didn't waste no time in telling me the truth, I so desperately was searching for. 

All of those years were wasted away and I couldn't come to realize I was the reason for my dads actions. I had pushed him into being the monster that he is, the monster I had even turned into. 

The look on my mothers face, the screams that left her lips as he stood over my body. My frightened eyes staring up at him. I could remember the blood dripping onto the floor and I had set my eyes on the place where it had spread and soaked up his plaid shirt. The look in his eyes, the betrayal seeping into them as he fell to the floor. The grip I had on the knife, now releasing and letting the metal fall to the floor, blood now everywhere. 

My eyes screw shut and I automatically sit up and my hands fist at my hair.  The thoughts flooding my mind, they won't stop. I jump to my feet and find myself pacing the room. The days sunlight beaming in between the curtains. My gaze sets onto my phone and I don't waste no time grabbing it and dialing Celeste's number. 

"Fuck!" I yell out as it goes to voicemail. Since I had set my eyes on her all those weeks ago, I couldn't help but feel the sense of calmness her face brought me. Her presence was something I craved. I had watched her from afar since a month ago, or maybe even longer. I knew what I was capable of, I knew I couldn't control myself unless my body was pumping with medication. But the medication would only last for so long and it would send me crashing, relapsing. 

I rush out of the bedroom and trip over the rug that is set in the hallway, I cuss and find my vision going a little blurry. Resting my hand on the bathroom door frame, I close my eyes taking deep breathes. My heart rate is rapidly beating and I know I am at the edge of a panic attack. I have these more often than not and I hate them. Getting in my head, I often hate the way I can't ever think properly, ever focus on one thing and not everything.

Sitting on the toilet, I think back to when I was aiding to Celeste's bleeding finger. The look in her bright blue eyes as I brought it to my lips to kiss it better. Like a small child, I watched as a smile grew onto her lips. A smile slowly finds it's way onto my own face as the memory replays in my head and I find my heart rate slowing down. 

In my actions, I knew I scared the living hell out of her. My anger issues getting the best of me most times, I always seem to act out in the worst ways. I had been known around to be a crazy boy with anger issues and there's not one person in this area of Seattle that doesn't know that. Often my cousin, my mom, and even my sister have to travel here to keep me at bay, to fix my mistakes. Always trying to keep me out of trouble, even worse, jail. My sister is the person least to show her face around here. She doesn't necessarily hate me, but she is tired of the way I am and always telling mom to put me back into the hospital. Saying how it would be much easier for all of us, to put less stress on them. But we all know the bills from the facilities would drown my mother in debt.