babylon » h.s.

journal entry two

Journal Entry Two

Yesterday I met my newest therapist, Allison. That woman was frustration personified.

Every little thing she did singlehandedly managed to piss me off. Our last appointment ended off better than it did with the three shrinks I saw previously.

The voices haven't quieted down yet, but I don't think they've processed Allison because none of them have given me advice on what to do about her.

She won't stand a chance once they all find out.

-H.

---

Harry sat at his kitchen table, his hands clenched tightly around a scalding cup of black coffee. His shoulders were hunched over and he could feel his hands burning, but his body was too numb to interpret pain.

In fact, he welcomed it. Maybe he would actually feel something instead of the hollow emptiness in his chest.

He stood up from his seat, itching to find something to do to occupy his time. One of his biggest pet peeves was being idle, and right now, he was annoying himself.

Grabbing his coat, he tossed it over his naked chest, not caring if he didn't put in a shirt. It's not like he cared what passing stranger thought of him.

Maybe I'll grab a bagel from the deli downstairs, or take a walk in the park, he thought to himself while leaving his apartment.

Pressing the down button on the elevator, he tapped his foot impatiently and checked his watch.

"The elevator is supposed to take ten point six seconds to come up," he murmured to himself, shaking his head with disdain.

The elevator finally came, and he eagerly stepped inside, wanting to get out of the apartment building as fast as possible.

To his annoyance, a woman was already standing inside of the car. He barely spared her a glance, but she seemed to have a field day looking at his inked chest behind his thick grey trench coat.

"Take a picture, love. It'll last longer," he told her coldly, before leaning on the walls of the lift. He hated when people watched him, since it occurred so often.

The young woman let out a small gasp before turning a shade of red, and concentrating on the polished black tiled floor beneath their feet. Every where he went, someone was always watching him, and he knew because he was too important to not be looked at.

He counted the floors as they descended, 18, 17, 16, 15... until the elevator finally reached the lobby. As soon as the doors were opened, the lady scurried out, a hint of the blush still staining her cheeks.

Harry was not one to lie to himself, he was well aware that he was very attractive and could have anyone flustered and in his lap by just a smoldering gaze. He seldom had to use his looks to gain leverage in a situation, but when he needed to, it was very effective.

Laughing to himself, he stepped off the car and made his way towards the exit.

"Have a good day, Mister Styles," the doorman greeted, holding the door open for him. In response, he gave him a curt nod before going along his way.

The cafe was a bit crowded when he entered, and he scowled at the idea of waiting on such a long line for just a coffee and a bagel.

The voices were now arguing with each other in his head, and Harry couldn't concentrate on picking off the things on the menu.

Maybe you should've taken your pills. That thought was his own, which was the loudest out of all the voices in his head.

Suddenly, the voices were silent. It was so quiet, he was almost scared. Almost.

"Man, are you gonna order, or stand there?" The barista's New York accent was prominent and strong as she sassed him to hurry up.

"Uh, I'll take an artisan bagel with cream cheese and a medium black tea," he ordered. The girl taking his order punched buttons into the register, telling him the price. When everything was completed, he chose a seat to wait for his order to be ready.

He was on his phone, typing something meaningless to consume his time, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hi, do you mind if we sit here? There's no available table left." He glanced up the familiar source of voice and raised an eyebrow when he saw it was Allison, his therapist.

"Oh, hi Harry," she greeted cheerfully, a smile on her face. Harry almost frowned at how happy she seemed to be at such an early time in the morning.

"Hello," he rasped in response, a polite but meaningless half smile settling on his lips. "What brings you here?"

He didn't give a damn about what she was doing here, in fact her presence in his place of comfort was unnerving and annoying. However, when his eyes trailed downwards, and saw Allison's hand holding the man next to her, his jaw clenched and his eyes briefly became hard.

"My boyfriend and I just wanted to catch some breakfast before we headed to work today," she explained. "Harry, this is Evan. Evan, this is Harry, someone I..."

Someone she... what? Someone she supposed to help fit into society and not be deemed as "crazy"?

"Someone she works with," Harry finished for her, flashing Evan one of his pleasantly useless smiles. He wanted to roll his eyes. Why did she think I cared about her boyfriend enough to introduce the two of us?

"Oh, you're her coworker?" He assumed, nodding his head in approval.

He only shrugged. "You could say that."

It was as if the air became thick between Allison and him as she stared him down, trying to figure out what exactly he was playing at.

He had to stop himself from chuckling at her looks. Oh, sweetheart. If only you knew.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," Evan said, clearly having a place to be other than here.

"Likewise," Harry replied, even though it was far from it.

"See you later," Allison said, shooting him a last glance before tugging Evan out of the store.

Harry bit into his bagel, finally being able to relax after his encounter with that infuriating woman. But didn't she want to sit at his table before? Why did she leave so abruptly if she wanted to sit before?

He was so conflicted with his own thoughts, that he almost didn't catch her name echoing soundlessly in his head.

Allison. The thought was not his own, and surprisingly, that brought him comfort.

---
a/n: I'm hoping this chapter is finally going to propel the story in the direction I want to take. This is one of the first stories I've written that isn't going to be centered on the romance aspect, but on the psychological side and Harry's psychosis.

I'll try my best, I promise.

-rachel

(p.s. picture of allison on the side.)