Butterfly [A Harry Styles Fanfiction] *COMPLETED WITH SEQUEl* {Book 1}

Chapter 29: When It Rains, It Pours

Cami POV:

Despite the only sound around me being Harry's light snores, I had deafening thoughts ringing through my own mind. I couldn't close my eyes without guilty thoughts screaming out at me. It was nearly three in the morning and I hadn't slept a wink. I had been able to get through the day with minor complications and tonight of all nights ended up being the one where my mind would not shut off. Between Charli's and Harry's insisting that I forget about everything going on with my Mother, that was the last thing I seemed to be able to do. All other nights I somehow managed to push it aside and ignore it until I fell unconscious. They were all coming head to head, pushing down on me so heavily, I thought I might suffocate. Everything had been going so well, it was no wonder they had managed to turn around so quickly. Nothing stayed that good for long, at least from my experience it hadn't. The saying when it rains it pours, seemed to fit quite nicely to my current predicament and I only expected it to get worse. I just couldn't get my body to relax. It was going into overdrive, running on adrenaline and what little amount of wine was left in my system from dinner. I was so exhausted and should have had no problem drifting right off to sleep. Instead, Harry's eyes closed over two hours ago and I was staring up at the ceiling, unable to silence the disturbing truths I might face if I didn't go see my Mother soon. Every option was running through my head and I couldn't stay laying in bed thinking about them all any longer.

I slowly lifted Harry's arm up from around my waist and let it gently fall to the mattress. I slid out from under the covers, careful not to wake him. I padded across the floor and silently rummaged through his drawers to find his grey hoodie that I usually wore. I looked back at his sleeping body when he stirred lowly, but he still seemed to be asleep. I tiptoed down the glass staircase, my steps slower than usual since there was little light illuminating my path. If my body wouldn't let me rest until I reached a decision, I needed to do it outside of the bedroom of my sleeping boyfriend.

I flicked on the lights in the living room and plopped myself down on the leather sofa with the tv remote in hand. Noise, any noise at all was what I needed to drown out the prevalent sounds going off in my head. I flipped through a few channels, but nothing was sufficient in getting me out of my own head. I switched the tv off, annoyed of the non existent ability it had to distract me. I held my head in my hands, feeling my eyes drooping and burning in exhaustion. My mind refused to allow me to get any sort of relief and there was nothing more irritating. I wanted to cry and scream out of pure frustration. It took a lot for me to breakdown and lately I had been doing it more than usual. It felt like every couple of weeks something happened that tore away a little piece of me. This week happened to be a sizeable chunk and I could feel its' effects mentally and physically.

Why did everything have to be so hard?

I was having a great day, all of Harry's surprises only adding to it. It all came crashing down the second he fell asleep and I was left alone with my thoughts. I couldn't help but let them drift toward my Mother, my parents in general. It was in my nature to blame them when things went wrong and this time it was actually justifiable. Why did they always seem to ruin things for me?

My parents fell out of love when I was just a child. Not even five years old when my Mother left, I could still recount the days leading up to it. They had slowly drifted apart and it was apparent to everyone around them. It was gradual, building up everytime he went away on a business trip or forgot an anniversary. I could vividly recall the last fight they ever had. I was sitting at the top of the staircase, watching tears run down my mother's face as awful words flew out of her mouth. My Father, as usual was completely calm and indifferent. He didn't hold the slightest look of panic and he let her leave without ever trying to win her back. What I never understood growing up, was why she never took me with her. She knew how cold and distant my Father could be and yet she left a fragile little girl in his care without looking back. That was what made me hate her, what stopped me from ever seeking her out. If it was so easy for her to leave me, she clearly didn't love me at all. My fatal flaw derived from that exact fact.