Chapter Eleven.

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Harry

            “I thought we were a team Niall! What’re you doing!”

            “Sorry mate, gotta do what you gotta do to win!”

            I try not to laugh at Liam’s almost aghast expression before he turns back to the television screen, eyes narrowing intently on the four racing characters. 

            “Bloody hell, where did that come from!” 

            “You are a wanker if you throw that shell at me, you know that, right? Don’t you da- God dammit Zayn!”

             Ah, leave it to Mario Kart to bring a group of boys together, right?

            Though the boys had insistently tried to get me to join in, I decided to sit out on this round, promising to join the next. It was obvious that the four of them have been enjoying having me back, the real me, but I still need time to think. 

            Time to think about helping Marley.

            Now, I see everything differently. It’s like my eyes have been opened for the first time, and now things aren’t just in black and white, there’s color now, there’s flavor. The world suddenly doesn’t seem so grim, so terrible and bitter.

            And I want her to be able to see that as well. 

            A couple days ago when she came over and realized what I was doing, how I basically spent my time looking at the things that hurt me, she seems to understand even more, in a way even I don’t. 

         I could tell it from her eyes at the time, the pure moment of realization in them. The way she seemed to speak to me differently, just… understand. 

             Now I need to figure out how to do the same for her, understand.   

             What is it that causes her self-loathing? 

         “I’m so going to get you back for that!” Louis laughs, before a thud and sound of someone losing the breath in their chest hits my ears. 

             Though I’m still staring at the screen, I force myself to mentally check out, focus on Marley and her own problem now. 

              Think Harry, think. 

            After sitting and thinking for another few minutes, mindlessly watching the boys continue their race, my eyes almost bulge out of my head when it hits me. Like waking up and realizing you had only been dreaming, comprehension plows into me at full speed.

             The public. 

         Just like how I would go online and read all the awful, heart wrenching things people said about me, she goes out in public. 

            She insists on going out on evening walks in the park, doing all her own shopping by going out to groceries. She does it because she knows that people will talk, will stare.

            She always says that she may as well, since there’s no point in hiding, but she wants to feel the eyes on her, wants to feel the way people look at her, to justify the way she feels about herself. 

            She tells everyone, including herself, that she’s going out to face the world head on. Only thing is, she goes out, but she doesn’t face it, not really.

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