in·fin·i·ty

Chapter 8

Elizabeth's POV

A few days later, a knock on the bedroom door tears me out of my thoughts. I hate the way my heart jumps when the door opens to reveal Harry standing there. I've kept myself locked upstairs all day, simply because I've been thinking about all the possible things he could of lied about while we were together, including cheating on me. I inhale sharply when his eyes meet mine and I find myself wishing I knew what secrets they held.

"Hey, uh I'm going out," is the first thing that leaves his lips.

I shrug, looking down at my hands, unable to look at his face due to the tension in the air. Harry stands there for a few more moments, all long legs and black clothing, and I know that he wants to say more. When he doesnt and ends up closing the door quietly, I let out a sigh. I hear the front door shut and it feels like I can finally breathe again. Harry's lingering presence has nearly sent me over the edge. I have so many thoughts of what I want to say, yet I haven't yet figured out how to put them into words.

I fall back down on the bed and try to fall asleep, but all I can see is Harry's face and the way his eyes used to always be lit up, yet now they look lost and almost as empty as mine. I think back to the times when Harry had no tattoos and his curls where always swept to the side of his face. Back then, he laughed at everything and would tell me stupid jokes until I wanted to throw something at his pretty face, but those stupid jokes were what I looked forward to every day.

I can't help but smile as I walk farther down memory lane and remember how Harry would throw me over his shoulder when I was upset and run around our apartment until my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. He was always there to kiss the frown off my face and hold my hand, even when I told him that I needed to be alone. Harry was everything I had and needed, and suddenly, he was gone.

It almost doesn't make sense, him leaving me for someone else. We were completely and utterly in love, or so I thought. Him and I were the couple everyone saw getting married and growing old together. The facts don't add up right, but I don't want to start making assumptions when I barely recognize Harry anymore.

I fall asleep to my endless thoughts of him, but this time, there is only more confusion.

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A loud crash wakes me up. I squint at the lit up alarm clock and my heart starts beating erratically when I realize it says 2:30 am. I carefully get out of bed with shaking hands and open the door, peering down the stairs when I hear a thud. I glance at Harry's bedroom, only to see that his door is open and the bed unoccupied. I slowly walk downstairs, my mind running wild at all the possibilities of what could be happening. What if someone broke into the house?

I nearly fall over in relief when I quietly enter the kitchen and find Harry with his back to me. The short moment of comfort quickly disappears when he turns around with a look in his eyes I could recognize anywhere, thanks to my dead father. Harry is absolutely wasted. I tear my gaze away from his glazed eyes and look at the broken plates scattered throughout the kitchen.

"Harry?" I whisper, "What happened?"

He almost looks confused as his lost eyes take in the shards of glass on the floor. His expression changes and before I can stop him, Harry yells something that I can't understand and grabs another plate from the cabinet, hurling it across the kitchen where it hits the wall. I try not to flinch when a couple of the pieces hit my foot. The look on his face almost scares me and instinct shouts for me to run from the boy I love, but I don't. Instead, I carefully step over the glass and make my way toward Harry. I approach him slowly, because I know from experience with my drunk of a father that when someone is this intoxicated, they could snap at any moment.