The pressure was so hard, college work, taunting fans, demanding paparazzi and the lies from the media. I was sick of it.
I threw the magazine on the counter while I sighed. I stormed out of the kitchen. I was really sick of it, it hurt. The articles which said Harry and I broke up, the articles which said I was too fat or using Harry for the fame or money.
I dashed into the bathroom in a hurry, scramling through the drawer to find my old ‘friend’, a small pocket knife I had since I was 14. It had left many marks on my pale skin, each with their own story. Each time when I dug the iron into my flesh, it felt like it released the pain I had felt, the hurt and the anger. It was time for that again.
I let my finger slid over the blade which shone in the light of the lamps above me. I shut my eyes and I lifted my head up, opening my mouth to inhale more air. Without warning, the door swung open, an unexpected Harry came strolling into the damp bathroom, unaware of my presence.
“Oh, sorry!” Harry shouted, turning back tot he door. I scrambled, spinning around, my hands shaking as panic flew through my whole body. Then, Harry must have realized what I tried to do. He spun around again and snatched the metal knife from my hands.
“(YN)?!” He yelled. I could see anger mixed with sadness in his eyes as he clutched the knife in his grip My whole body was shaking. Harry tossed the knife into the bin before grabbing both my wrists and forcefully inspected them to make sure I didn’t hurt myself.
Harry already knew I used to cut, but he thought thsoe days were over, he thought he had talked me out of it. Luckily there were no new wounds and he dropped my hands.
Harry placed his hands on my shoulders. “I thought you stopped.” He spoke. I ignored him as I looked down at our feet, his being much bigger than mine. My hands were still shaking.
“Babe, talk to me.” Harry’s voice raised. “Everything is too much.” I finally said faintly, eyes still set on the floor.
Harry sighed while wrapping his arms around me. “Please stop me, it’s hurting me. I hate to see you hurting yourself. I hate seeing the girl I love being hurt.”
