Sincerely, Harry || Homicidal Prequel

Entry 09

Dear diary,

Something really weird happened with Anderson again. I'll get to it, I promise, but I'd like to talk about Alyssa first.

So, the doctors upped her dosage of anti-anxiety pills, started her on a mild anti-depressent, and it's made such a huge difference in her. I'm proud of her, and I might go as far as saying I love her more, even if it's still not me being in love with her.

She instigated us holding hands and us kissing, and then we found a private spot in the courtyard and she attempted to get me off before I told her I didn't want it. She started going on about how stupid she felt, and I just held her while thinking of Dustin.

I'm pretty good at pretending nothing is wrong, but the more Alyssa gets to know me the easier she she's right through me. The more I thought of Dustin, the more I knew Alyssa was catching on. When she did, I can't say I was surprised.

“I'm sorry,” she had whispered, tightening her grip on my waist. Come to think of it, this was pretty odd, too, as most of our interaction ended up in crying and it seemed like we were nowhere near tears. Anyway, she said: “I'm really sorry. I love you, Harry.”

I just kissed her forehead. I didn't know what to say. When she's on meds that work, Alyssa can talk for hours, and she did. We laid in that field until the nurses called us all in for dinner. She was the main one talking, but I spoke, too.

She was saying: “You know, I think I'm going to live with my parents when I get released. Do you think I could make that work?”

I had shrugged. “I don't know. Depends on what happens.”

She nodded. “I guess you're right.”

I knew she wasn't actually going to want to live with her parents, but I tried to be encouraging for her sake.

“Listen, Aly, you're going to be fine. No matter what happens, you'll be fine,” I told her.

I had never called her “Aly” before that moment, but she smiled and rubbed her cheek against my shoulder, so I knew she liked it.

(I'll get to Anderson soon.)

She said: “What do you want me to call you?”

“You don't have to call me anything,” I had answered. “Nicknames aren't really my thing, so don't expect any “babe” or “baby.” Just being honest.”

She chuckled. “Never. Can I call you some nicknames? I like calling people “love.” That's my favourite. Can I call you that?”

“Sure,” I agreed.

“Thanks, love. I love you,” she responded, and I reciprocated it.

Now, after dinner, Anderson came into my room and sat down on my bed. He grabbed my hand, interlocked our fingers, and offered me a smile.

I guess I should mention he just got out of the calm room again. He gave me a bruise on my arm. I don't think he's going to get out of here anytime soon.

Anyway, he had said: “Can we call a truce?”

I looked down at our hands for a moment before I yanked mine out of his, then shrugged.

“I don't want you holding my hand,” I had told him. “We're not going to be friends, Anderson. What do you mean by truce?”

He started fidgeting. “I'm not going to hit you anymore. They put me on different medication and I don't feel as angry anymore. I'm sorry—for everything I've put you through. And, um, I like you, but you can't tell anyone. I just get so lonely in here, but you have Alyssa, so I'm not going to act on it.”

“I'm not in love with her, or anything,” I said. “I can't say the same for her with me, but. Yeah, that doesn't change anything between us. I don't like you, Anderson.”

“Will you at least kiss me once?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, and I never will.”

See what I mean by how weird this conversation was? He left right after this and then Mrs. Emmerson came in to tell me to go to bed twenty minutes ago. I better get to sleep before I get my privlages revoked.

Sincerely,

Harry.