Demoralized

Chapter 5

"Harry?" I ask, appalled. "What's wrong?" I feel shock and terror settling within me.

He stands motionless on my doorstep, except for his quivering lips and the fresh tears still streaming down his face. He darts his face up, startled. He looks at me, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What are you doing? Why the hell aren't you dressed?" He asks harshly, referring to my misshapen pajamas and mussed hair.

"Harry, you are two hours late. I figured you weren't coming, so I changed."

"Well, I'm here aren't I? Go get dressed, I'll be in the car." He abruptly turns on his heels, and leaves me standing there with my mouth agape.

I slam the door, and lean against it with my arms crossed. I'm not going out with him if he's going to talk to me like that. I did nothing wrong. He's definitely the one at fault here. Seriously, who does he think he is?

I stand back up, throwing the door open in anguish.

Harry sees me storming towards him, still not dressed. His facade turns from mildly irritated to lividly confused. He unlocks his car and opens the door, all while maintaining fiery eye contact with me.

"What the-"

"I'm not going with you, Harry." I interrupt him, positively enraged. "I don't know you, and you are being really pushy. You hurt me. Like hell, might I mention. Which was why I was at that goddamn hospital. And then you're there, out of all places to run into a psycho. Why were you there, Harry? And why did you show up on my doorstep two hours late crying? No, I am not going out with you, this is crazy." I tilt my chin up in self-confidence, pleased with myself for standing up to him.

Harry is speechless. He stands there, utterly dumbfounded as he opens and closes his mouth, looking like he's about to say something, but can't find the right words.

After no response, I turn around and stomp up the lawn towards the door. He grabs my wrist and tugs, spinning me back around to face him.

He draws a deep breath with his eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched tight, as if he's trying to contain himself.

"Look, I know this is crazy. I know people think I'm crazy, I know you think I'm crazy, and I know that my actions haven't been anything short of those assumptions."

He pauses. "But, I'm not crazy."

"I know I hurt you, and God I am so sorry. The guilt is eating me alive, Trinity. I can't sleep at night, knowing that I hurt you. That I caused you pain. And, I know, I'm late. But, I have my reasons. Reasons that I am not comfortable in telling you yet. So please, go get dressed. I just want to take you out and have fun. Please."

I stare at him, stunned by this newfound vulnerability. I look down, at the hand still holding my wrist. I take a deep breath, unable to conjure a cohesive thought.

I dont know what to do. This boy could be potentially dangerous, he could hurt me again. But, if I do go, then I'll get a chance to understand him better. I'll be able to see where he's coming from. But what if where he's coming from is not something I want to know? He's the epitome of uncertainty, but even I can't deny my undying curiosity for the boy. He draws me in like a moth to a flame, and I just don't have the strength to resist.

"I'll go get dressed."

I see his face physically light up, his stance straighter.

"Dress warm!" I hear him call after me.

Dress warm? What are we doing?

Inside, I run up the stairs two at a time, throwing on a grey sweatshirt, leggings, and black converse. I brush out my hair, and re-apply my make up. I even spray on some perfume for good measure.