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His breath tampered on my neck as he backed me into a corner.
"Look at me." he demands in a disturbingly-menacingly-calm tone.
I couldn't.
He wants to hurt me. He wants me dead.
I felt his paradoxically gentle, soft hand grip my chin...
PLEASEEE read the authors note at the end of this chapter ! :)
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Charlotte Thompson
It was a 37 hour drive.
We left immediately after we got packed, never looking back on Los Angeles.
Harry drove for 12 straight hours, only stopping to fill up for gas a few times. He drove until he felt safe enough...and far enough from the chaos that happened.
It's scary to think that I almost lost him again.
After half a day of driving, we ended up stopping at a hotel in Albuquerque. We both needed some serious rest.
But we actually didn't do much 'resting'.
It was a really over emotional night. A lot happened.
We tried having sex, but the both of us knew something was off so we stopped right away.
That's when Harry finally broke down.
His mom. He didn't say a word about it after we found out what happened, and he's just been keeping it all inside. He couldn't bottle it in anymore.
We both cried a little bit, and he spilled how he was feeling.
He told me how angry he was. He told me how he regrets not being there.
And he told me that if I wasn't here, he'd probably be trashed out on drugs right now not caring if he lived or died.
It broke my heart. All I wanted was to be able to take his pain away. He's been put through hell. We both have.
I think we're both just...so tired.
And I was overwhelmed, dealing with my own internal shit about how I was nervous to see my family again.
I spoke to my mom again. I told her about Harry—not everything, obviously.
But I told her that I ran away, and I met Harry. I told her how he took care of me and that we're together. She didn't take it well at first. She was angry that I 'could be so selfish'. But eventually, she complied and told me she was glad I'm safe, and that she's counting the minutes until she sees me again.
I want Harry to meet my parents...formally, as my boyfriend. But he's hesitant because he's guilty.
All I'm trying to do is find some kind of normal balance in all of this mess. Introducing my boyfriend to my family feels like the closest thing to normal.
After we got ourselves pulled together, I kissed him out of passion and nervousness and fear and anger. That's when we actually did have sex. It was slow, and passion driven. He held my hand during it all. Neither of us wanted it to end.
