PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Twenty Eight

Hi. Please give me a chapter song for this chapter. Read it and come back up here to let me know. Because it used to be one of my favorite songs and then the band got cancelled and I know its just a silly fan fiction, but they don't need any extra streams. So please recommend a song. 

Also if any song reminds you of precipice - tell me and I'll put it on my writing playlist. There are a bunch of songs on there that I personally had never heard until my friends were like "hey this reminds me of your book!" okay I'm sorry there are so many author's notes in this chapter. 

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LYRICS TBD

LOL

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Harry's P.O.V.

September 27th 1997

Another restless night of sleep. At least I wasn't dreaming as much as I have been. There were flashes and memories, but nothing so bad that it had me walking like a zombie and being possessed to the point where I wasn't in control of my actions. The puppeteer was slowly retracting its claws.

My parents used to take me to the doctors when I was younger. I spent days sitting in waiting rooms while my mother casted sideways glances. There was something wrong with me, even if she didn't want to say it. And she didn't like having an imperfect kid. The doctors didn't want to say it either because they chalked it up to insomnia and sleep walking. No one understands. No one ever does.

It was only about 6am, but now that I was going to classes again my body was getting accustomed to waking up early. I had my lectures first thing in the morning so that I could have my days and afternoons to myself. Augustine asked me to help out and teach some of her after school classes. She tries to pay me, but I refuse. I'm still grateful she lets me live above the studio.

But, gone were the mornings when I woke up past 10. Woke up in her bed. Woke up next to her. Woke up with her wrapped around me from behind, nails digging into my skin.

I walk around my studio, taking in the multitude of finished canvases. Most of them are of her, all facing different directions. My body stops at one of the more recent ones depicting the two of us at the diner. I pick it up and move it to the easel. Moving Alice's chair in front of it I sit down and stare at it.

That's been one of the biggest changes these past few weeks. Alice spends a lot more time here, and when she does, this becomes her chair. I get out of class, or go into the office depending on the day and then I come back here. I bide my time until Alice comes over. Like clockwork, she rings the doorbell at 7:30pm.

It's not every single day. She's always here nights before she has big tests so she can study. Most times I paint while I hear her pencil scratching away at her calculus homework. My paintbrush and her pencil are almost harmonizing with the Elton John CD that plays in the background.

Her father likes to stay late at the office, and her mom is never home. I try to hold off on eating dinner until 7:30 to see if she's coming over so I can feed her. She's been independent for so long. Thinking of her in that giant house all alone, having to take care of herself. Even if they have a personal chef in the house, I know first hand what it is like to be all alone. When I was in high school, my parents were both working and my sisters were in college and moved out. What she is going through is a unique situation that I understand more than anyone else could.

I'm painting more with her around. I had only been painting in the middle of the night, creating whatever haunted my dreams in the hours prior. Now, I find myself going back to what makes me happy. Landscapes, flowers, still life.