babylon » h.s.

journal entry five

Journal Entry Five

Yesterday I had some unprovoked, explicit thoughts of Allison. It was uncalled for and frightening to say the least.

My subconscious created an image of her laying beneath me instead of the actual woman. Was this a sign from the voices attempting to show me something?

Whatever it is, they still haven't make a conclusive decision on what to do with her. It's all still up to me.

-H.

---

Harry's mind was still reeling from yesterday. He could still envision Allison's dainty body laying under him, her eyes cloudy and dark from wanton need.

All for it to be made up in his head.

He had an appointment with her today, and he knew that image, that raunchy moment he shared with her would be the only thing on his mind.

Groaning, he got up from his couch and threw a jacket on to head to her office. He was thinking he could request a new therapist instead of remaining angered and frustrated by that woman, but a voice stopped him.

No. Don't. A voice whispered, disagreeing with him.

Harry was confused. Did the voices take a liking for Allison?

He sat in the waiting room, contemplating his thoughts when he heard his name being called.

"Harry?" He looked up and almost choked.

Allison was wearing a tight sweater dress that stop mid thigh and high heels, making her legs look even longer than they were.

"Come on in," she said with a smile, holding the door for him.

He made himself comfortable on the couch as usual, while she sat across from him.

"How do you feel?" She asked, notepad splayed across her crossed legs and a pen perched in hand.

"Numb," he answered, the response always being the same withe every appointment. "By the way, you look lovely today, Allison."

Due to her complexion, he wasn't able to see if she blushed but he was sure as hell she was flustered by his comment.

"Thank you," she smiled as she accepted the compliment. "So anyway, how was your week? Did you do anything out of the ordinary?"

He shook his head. "Same old, same old. Nothing changes."

"Why don't you try making friends, getting another job or finding a recreational activity or a hobby?" She suggested.

"I have a hobby," he told her, a smirk settling on his lips.

"What is it?" She asked out of curiosity.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I like to fuck." He said bluntly.

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at his straightforwardness. He knew she was speechless because his crude language, usually the other patients tried to censor themselves since they considered her to be a figure of authority.

But not Harry. Harry was speaking to her as if they were age mates, lovers even. He used terms of endearment loosely and frequently.

"Well, at least you enjoy something," she eventually stammered out, flustered.

Harry grinned at her tone of voice before asking, "what do you enjoy? Because I'm pretty sure it's not better than sex."

Rolling her eyes, she looked over at him. "There's more to life than sex, you know."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know, only two types of women that say things like that: virgins-"

"I am not a virgin," she interrupted, almost seemingly offended by the mere word itself.

"-or the women who feel the need to fake an orgasm during sex," he finished, a sly grin across his lips.

Her lips slowly parted and Harry knew he got her perfectly. "Is Evan not giving you enough of what you need?"

"STOP IT!" She yelled, tossing her notepad onto the table in exasperation. "This is about you. You're getting into my head."

"But isn't that supposed to be your job?" He asked, an innocent smile on his face.

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. "Don't turn the tables."

"I'm not the one acting crazy here, love," he reminded her, with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

Allison kept her eyes narrowed at him before sighing and shaking her head. "These sessions are getting you nowhere. I don't even know why your doctor keeps suggesting therapists if you don't even want to improve-"

"You think I like living like this?" His voice was low and dangerous, making Allison gulp at the sound of the complete 360 it took. "You think I don't want help?"

He stood up and walked towards her, like a cat watching a mouse, stalking its prey. "I hear voices constantly in my head, I can't feel because they will take advantage of my emotions, I can't even do anything but coexist with them, or even sometimes listen to the suggestions they give."

He snatched his journal off the couch and swung his head to glare at her.

"How about you write all that shit down in your stupid fucking notepad, and decide on if I should be put into a straight jacket by tomorrow," he spat, before angrily storming out of the office.

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a/n: I missed this story so fuckin much like you have no idea

I've been wondering how to end the next chapter and I finally figured it out so I posted this one finally

more chapters to come in a week or so!

all the love, rachel. x

(^why do I want to be Harry so bad lol)