Neurotic // h.s

4

Ella Perry

I stared at my wild hair in the dirty, smudged mirror under the small amount of light that was above the bathroom mirror. My mind was exhausted, racing, wishing I was in my own bathroom instead of Harry's.

It feels weird calling him by his first name, he's so oddly calm about the whole situation. Almost as if he didn't grab me from my home the other night, when I get out of here he is going to be in some serious legal trouble.

Well, I wish. I the justice system was anything like it used to be then he would be in jail, this may even be on the news, but now if I went to the cops with this they wouldn't do a thing. 

That's why you have to be careful, I wasn't careful enough I suppose. 

Julie and Ray are probably worried out of their minds, and I don't even want to think about Micheal right now. 

Hopefully, nothing like this happens to my family before I can make it out of here.

I'm not sure if I should be afraid of Harry or not, I haven't quite been able to get a read on him, he's very complex. 

I haven't even been here a full day yet it feels like a lifetime, and Harry still hasn't told me the whole purpose of this, I'm starting to think he is just delusional. 

I should be cooking dinner right now, everyone sitting on the big couch and the air filled with nothing but laughter and bliss. But instead, I'm in this dingy bathroom trying to fix something that I did to myself with that stupid window.   

My cold feet stood firm on a stiff, dark rug in front of the sink, how cold does he keep it in this house?

I reached for the plain sliver faucet seeing my torn, distorted reflection in it as I do so, cleaning my cut as he instructed me to do, and maybe to stop it from bleeding. 

After I had my incident at the window, he didn't seem to be as furious as I expected and it caught me quite off guard. 

I could have run to the door, the alarm would go off but I think I could make it out before he caught up to me. 

He was asleep on the table and didn't hear me stepping past him, so maybe he's a heavy sleeper. 

The bathroom had a tad bit more personality than the rest of the house, considering the rest of the house looks unoccupied. The shower curtain, although a bit dingy and stained, was a dark blue, as well as the stiff rug underneath it. Both of which were more color than any other part of the house.

I wonder if his room has any personality, or if it seems as cold as him.  

My hand was underneath the sink and I cringed as the cold water ran over the deep cut. I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do to fix this, I don't know what he has in here to help me. 

Maybe if I find a bandaid or something I could cover it, or should I clean it too?

I trailed my heavy eyes down to my hand to see the cut stretch across almost the entire face of my hand, running deep with blood still slowly pooling out and down my wrist. 

The bandaid would have to be one of those humongous ones, that would cover the whole wound. 

I winced as I pulled my hand slightly out of the water, cleaning the blood off my wrist, seeing as I had just gotten comfortable under the contact of the liquid.  

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as I reach for the toilet paper roll on the other side of the counter, tearing a bit from the roll and carefully wrapping it around my hand temporarily so that I won't drip all over the bathroom floor, only creating more of a mess.