Change Me | Hariana

Distinct Memory

Chapter 4: Distinct Memory

*

Ever since my fair warning two days ago, the girl next door hasn't been such a bother lately. I would hear mini bumps next door because of the thin walls, but she doesn't speak to me anymore when we caught sight of one another. Perfect.

I turned on the TV, and plunked my body on the couch with Molly. I waited tolerantly for my tea to finish. Flicking through the channels, passing the reality shows that doesn't seem to amuse me, knowing that all of it was an act; I started petting Molly's fur, while in attempt to find any type of show that would entertain me.

My expression instantly changed from boredom into confusion. I didn't pay attention much on the name of the show because I was very much more focused on the bold typescript plastered in front of the TV.

"Harry Styles rumored to be the father of the child of Taylor Swift. By these recent pictures taken of Taylor she looks more than big. How can a girl get so big in just a couple months?"

Dozens of pictures popped up on the TV screen. There was also one with Lou's baby, Lux, in it. I cussed to myself at how much this situation had gotten out of hand.

Charily placing Molly on the pillow next to me, I stood up pacing back and forth with my phone in my hand. I couldn't believe this.

Usually I didn't mind with pointless rumors because I know none of it was true. Why did this one upset me so much? I couldn't think of a reason why right now. My blood was boiling.

I threw my phone across the room and it shattered onto the floor.

Why? That seems to be the only question I ask every day. Why does this always happen to me? Why does everyone always assume that I'm always the bad one?

Just because I have a record with girls doesn't mean anything. It just shows that I am not one who is blessed in relationships. People shouldn't judge and they shouldn't criticize when all they know about are from pages of magazines. Also, they shouldn't condemn me because they expect me to be a perfect doll like other artists out there. I'm fucking human. I make mistakes.

When regular 19 year olds make a mistake it is easily ignored and forgotten. But when I make one, I'm Hitler.

That's because you're not normal, a voice in my head scoffed.

My emotions taking full control of my actions, I closed my eyes and then I felt a burning sting on my right hand as realization dawned me that I have been punching the wall continually. Now leaving a mammoth break and my now wounded and bleeding hand, I had finally calmed down. Sweat had already trickled down my forehead as the waves of my curls blocked partially of my sight.

Vicious knocking at the door made me flinch in my spot. Trudging towards the door, holding my fisted hand, there stood it.

"What happene-Oh my god."

I rolled my eyes and was about to close the door right in her face, but she beat me to it as she pushed me further inside.

"Fuck off," I shooed her not wanting any of her sham sympathy that the people who I worked always displayed when near me. She fought back on my demand, snatched my hand, and carefully placed it on her lap. She looked at me with puzzlement and soon put her attention to the TV seeing the headline.

"ONE DIRECTION'S HARRY STYLES GOT TAYLOR SWIFT PREGNANT? See more details in the website printed down below."

Looking back at me, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Are you Harry Styles?"

I rolled my eyes. She was serious when she said that she had no known of my existence. Has she been living under a rock?

"Yes," I answered with blank emotion, not a little bit thrilled that this girl knew my name. Also aware that later on she will change her act of care towards me when she searches my name: thousands of articles of nothing but scandal and faultily being printed on her screen.

She nodded her head, fully understanding the situation more, but still a bit confused.

"My name is Ariana-." She started

"I don't care," I crudely interrupted. She looked displeased at my impolite commentary, but to be honest right now, all I want is the ache from my hand to disappear. I don't need a full on introduction from someone I already disliked.

"Oh. I thought you just wanted to know since we've known each other for almost a week now."

I kept silent, hoping she would take notice that I didn't want a discussion. Fortunately, she did, as she didn't speak. Bringing me up to my feet, the pain rushed through my whole arm. We began walking to the kitchen as she littered through my cabinets, while my hand remained on hers.

She finally found a white rag and began damping it on my wound, her eyes arched in concentration. I constantly studied her littlest movements, as she gently wrapped the rag on my bleeding hand. She peeked at me for a second, under her eyelashes before returning to her serious operation. When she noticed that I was staring at her, she stopped everything and stared back at me in a questioning look.

"What? Does your hand still hurt?" she asked with a solemn expression like she actually cared about me. Pft if that was possible. She barely knew me.

I ignored her question and gave her one of mine.

"Why do you care so much?"

Her face turned crimson at my approach and soon gave all her awareness back on my hand, wholly disregarding my question.

"I have been nothing but rude to you since we met. Why do you take my shit?"

She continually ignored my questions and I finally had it. I lifted up her chin with my free hand, so her eyes would look in mine and so I was able to see the read the emotion she held within but I felt myself getting lost in them instead.

From far away distance you would think she only had hazel eyes but up close, there were green specks surrounding them. It was outright beautiful. I dropped my hand off her chin and began looking away.

I can't do this again.

Ariana's Pov:

Harry Styles kept asking me questions and I just ignored them not knowing what to answer. I really didn't know what to answer. At first I just wanted to make amends from our first meeting, but when he warned me I felt intrigued. Something was luring me towards him. He was like a closed book. If his emotion wasn't blank it was anger.

I was gently running the blood off his hand and thought to myself in silence.

Why was he so infuriated? False accusation? Still if it wasn't true why would he go this far into hurting himself? Maybe it was true. I don't know.

In my shock, I felt his hand slowly lifting my chin, making me face him. Staring intently at his sharp calculating eyes, I could hear my heart thump in attempt to escape out of my chest. I wonder if he hears it also.

Before I could observe his features, he swiftly let go of my chin, seeing his eyes turn darker in just a matter of seconds. He completely turned his attention out into space, placing the emotionless face.

Why is he blocking his emotions again?

I let go of his hand and placed it on the table, finally finished with the operation.

Standing up at my uncomfortable seating position on my legs, I began searching for his eyes, in need of his attention but he acted as if he was looking at heavens. I shook my head and started making my way to the door.

I walked little by little hoping that he would call out for me, telling me to stay or thank me for my service. I was already out the door and I still heard nothing. I exhaled heavily and just walked back in my flat.

Nice to meet you too Harry Styles, I'm Ariana Gemini by the way.