Trepidation | H.S.

45 | Harry - Talk

After smashing every item in the room, instead of just taking a second to breathe I wanted to cover my pain. I ran to the one thing that I knew would take it away, even if it was just temporary. Drugs.

I got so high to the point I couldn't tell my left from right. The wretched toxin was pumping through my veins as I tried to stumble through the hallway. I stopped though. I stopped when I heard her.

I heard her and Zayn. She was crying, really fucking hard. In that moment when I heard how distraught she was, I realized she truly didn't want to hurt me. I stopped in front of his door that night.

I was just frozen, with my hand held up as if I was going to knock. I almost knocked, I wanted to. I couldn't move though, my body wouldn't let me. After around twenty minutes of just standing there, I heard her scream the words that triggered me.

"I will never be enough for him, I will never make him happy again."

"Harry?" Indiana's soft voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I quickly looked up, startled by her being in front of me. "You okay?"

"Yeah sorry, just zoned out a bit." I said with a nod as I pushed off of the wall. "You ready?"

"I couldn't tell," She tried to make a joke, letting out a light laugh. It took me a few seconds to register it, so I felt like a dick that ignored her joke. "Uh.. yeah."

"Then let's roll," I said trying to put a smile on my face. I wanted to show her it was okay, she didn't need to feel nervous.

I hate how awkward things feel. As we walked to the elevator, it just felt weird. It was odd knowing that the person I was closest to also felt the most distanced from me. I didn't like this feeling, I wanted the warmth and fuzziness I felt around her.

The elevator ride was very fucking uncomfortable. I just stared at her, then got really embarrassed when she caught me. She didn't say anything, but it still felt weird. I wanted to look at her and see how she really is, I can read her very well.

She was wearing that same flannel she always seemed to wear when she was anxious or stressed. Maybe it was her comfort item? Her eyes were tired. Apart from the fading bruises that scattered her body, she looked worn down.

I hated knowing she was hurt. Both physically and mentally. No matter how hurt you get physically, nothing compares to the deep wounds inside you. I could take physical pain any day, but the feeling when you are hurt mentally just destroys me.

"Your cuts are- healing nicely." I stuttered as we walked out of the elevator, and she followed a little bit behind me.

God, I just want to mentally smack myself across the face for that one. She's going to think I think she looks like shit. Why does this have to be so awkward?

"Thanks," She said with a smile, and I relaxed a little bit. "That doctor did good."

"He is good, he's nice." I said in agreement. "I'm sure he was thrilled to be there at four in the morning."

I might have been in a pissy mood and confused, but I'm not a total dick. I wouldn't let her wander around with some serious injuries, so I sent her the best person I knew of. I spent a lot of time in California on some major jobs that required doctors, and I knew he would be willing to help. He would also be paid a shit ton of money.

"He was very, looked a little concerned for me." She said with a light laugh, making me feel a little more comfortable. "Luckily it's just a concussion and some broken ribs, plus a couple of bumps and bruises. Nothing I can't handle."

Just?

"Well, you are quite the tough one aren't you?" I joked and earned a laugh from her which made my body warm with that unfamiliar fuzziness. "It's this one over here."