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     ESTELLA HAD BEEN IN her own home for about three days now, and it was beginning to question Harry. He called her of course because he promised he would, but when she didn't answer the first time, he assumed she was still deep in needed slumber. The second time was approximately around 10 at night, still, no answer. The third and final time had been the next day—She didn't answer at all. He was beyond confused and concerned. Harry drove straight to her house after work, parking in front of her loft and knocking on the door. No answer. He didn't know why she was avoiding him. Maybe it had to do with what happened yesterday, but at first it didn't seem like it was really that because she seemed fine after he left for work. But she wasn't.

   Estella heard the knocking which then turned into banging on her door, but she simply ignored, knowing it was Harry. She was sitting on her bed, a glass of wine in her hand as she smoked yet another blunt, mascara running down her face along with the tears she had been producing for about three hours now. She grew irritated by her phone ringing with the constant noise on her front door and decided to answer his prayers and walk down her spiral staircase before unlocking and opening her door. Harry immediately walked in without seeing her face, Estella standing on the side and sighing when she heard him going on and on about how she wasn't answering his calls.

   "Where the fuck have you been?!" His voice boomed, echoing around the house. Estella closed her door, turning to see his red and clearly heated face. "Huh? I've been calling you for two days straight, and you're ignoring me, why?"

   "Home, clearly." She said, so lowly he could barely hear her. "And yeah, I've been ignoring you, so what."

    Harry was taken aback by that, face drifting to a deep frown when he noticed she was crying, smoking and drinking. And that wasn't a good combination. "So what? Are you kidding me?! You've been MIA since yesterday and I come here and you're like this?"

    "Sorry to disappoint you, honey."

    "What's going on with you? What happened?"

    "This is just my normal Sunday state." She shrugged.

    "Estella, this isn't fucking funny," He walked toward her, gripping her arm to make her stop moving around because she was gently swaying. "I was worried sick about you. You can't do something like that."

    "Yeah, well, you're here now."

    He was going to say something else, but when he observed her face a bit more, he noticed something in particular. There was a bit of white powder on the side of her nose and Harry flicked his thumb out to see what it was, rubbing the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger together to observe the substance more, Estella obnoxiously moving her face away with a groan. When he got a hint on what it was, he gave her a hard stare, snatching the glass of wine away from her and throwing it across the room, Estella flinching when she heard it break.

    "Why the fuck are you doing cocaine?" He clenched his jaw, her eyes so dark and emotionless in response to his outburst it made him even more angry. "Tell me, Estella. Why are you doing it? Since when did you even do this shit?!"

    "I've been doing it again ever since that night at Catatonic, sweetheart," She sniffled, turning her back to him, the sheer robe she wore turning with her and skimming across the marble tile. "Nothing new."

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