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Chapter 92 - Scarlett

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                                                                     92.  

                                                             ●•Scarlett•●

I was a mess, to say the least. But it was not physically; not this time around.

At this point, my brain was beyond f–cked up, my senses numbed by some sort of a sharp feeling of guilt. After all, Harry had a point. Obviously he did – he was always the right one, for God’s sake. But despite knowing he deserved someone better, I couldn’t simply force myself to say ‘I love you’ as though it did nothing to me at all, whatsoever.

Because, honestly, those three words were simply pathetic. Why does the human race have the necessity to hear them constantly? Why do words matter more than actions? Not only my brain was f–cked up, but so was society. Really, after all the huge steps I’d taken for Harry, those words should be the last ones to matter, if anything. After all I had put myself into since I met that prick (meaning it the fond way), he should at least take that into consideration.

Plus, words never meant anything at all. Quite literally. Because I had pretty much lost count of how many times for years I’d said ‘I love you’ to Tyler, and not meaning it the way I meant when I even thought about Harry. It was mostly why I didn’t want to say it, actually. Because I was pretty sure that the moment I uttered the words ‘I love you’, they would sound as fake as Tyler and I’s feelings for each other, and Harry would read into my eyes the several implications that would put our relationship into the worst situations again.

But right then, it seemed like everything I could possibly do would ruin what we had anyway. His outburst had been the proof of it. And I really didn’t blame him for most of the things, except I sort of did. Let’s face it: I had been the one to warn him from the beginning. He was the one to insist on me when I clearly told him, with all the words, more than once (or thrice, or a bazillion times, whatever), that I would f–ck him up. I told him, because I knew this would happen, though I didn’t expect many of the things that also happened, as well, to exist. Meaning I didn’t expect to fall head over heels for him; didn’t expect being so gone for someone ever in my life as I was for him; didn’t expect for my stomach to flutter with sh–tty butterflies (which I could swear were just a ruse, but) whenever he came close. I didn’t expect to leave Tyler and finally try to move on; and even less, I didn’t expect to let him know everything about me like I did.

Still. The way things unfolded was inevitable. It was written as some sort of rule, somewhere, I was sure.

And I really meant to talk to Harry about this, explain everything the way I saw it, but destiny seemed not to be on our sides. At all. Indeed, it seemed as if it was completely against us. Whenever I went to look after Harry, his flat would be empty; I’d miss him for a five minutes difference at the store, and I had not a single clue of where his university could be, let aside his timetable, class, and uni friends to whom I could talk to.

There was also his family, probably, but for what I’d heard, Gemma had gone back to her own life, and she seemed to be the only one that didn’t despise me so much at first sight. Harry’s dad had also been extremely nice, but his mother, as far as I was concerned, still lived in the same house as him, and if I showed up there she would probably tell me to f–ck right off Harry’s life and leave him to grow healthily or summat. So, no looking for Harry there. For sure.

Moreover, less than a week later, Tyler woke up. He was still under the effects of countless painkillers, but he was awake, and, apparently, his memories hadn’t been affected by the accident. Straight away, he’d started asking for me, asking – and I quote – if I’d kept standing for the whole ‘leaving him definitely’ sh–t, to which I tried my hardest to knock it into his damaged brain that I would, indeed, leave him, as soon as he was better.