"Again?" He frowned.
"I had an addiction last year and had treatment." She said bluntly.
"Well I didn't know that because you didn't tell me. You don't tell me anything. How am I supposed to help you when you lie to me and keep shit to yourself?"
"That's the thing, Harry," She quickly turned back around to face him, finger pointing at his chest in anger. "You can't help. I'm sorry, but you can't. I've been broken for so many years of my life now and you can't understand that. There's nothing you can do to help me."
"Then we'll get you a therapist, anything to make you stop acting like you don't matter and like I'm not here, doing as best as I can for the both of us to be happy."
"You don't think I tried that?!" She laughed bitterly. "I've had one ever since I was eleven years old. That shit does nothing for me, nothing at all. If I have my mind set on one thing for years and years, what makes you think some random stranger can automatically make me change the views I have on myself—My life?"
"Listen, Estella. I get that you've been through so much shit that it's too hard to talk about at times but you have to understand that even though I don't know everything, I know enough to help you and you can at least let me try to help because that's all I'm trying to do! I'm trying to fucking help you, but you aren't letting me because you're hiding shit from me that still makes you emotionally damaged. You have to be open with me, you have to. Otherwise this won't work."
"I can't," She cried, shaking her head as she looked at the ground. "I can't. It hurts too much. I can't."
"You have to, baby," He grabbed her again, tossing the blunt to the ground before stepping on it, holding her small face in his hands as she sobbed. "You have to fight, okay? That's the only way we can get through this. I cannot be able to help you if you don't let me in. If you don't let me see what's wrong."
"You see it now! You see me, you seen what I did, you see what I do! How are you supposed to help me when not even my own family could? H-How are you going to make me stop thinking about bringing myself away from the good things people offer because I'm too fucked up to take it with gratitude? Tell me!"
Harry looked down at her hands, twisting her wrist around and observing the many cut lines around the area, old but new blood evident on her skin, making his eyes instantly water, looking straight into hers with sadness. He didn't know what to say, dropping her arms and slightly backing away. This was beginning to get too complicated for him, and it was almost as if his life had been repeating the same obstacles over and over again. He refused to believe that yet another one of his relationships had been a replica of the other. He didn't want it to be.
"Destiny." Was all he said.
"Destiny," He repeats, setting his hands on his hips as he scoffed and shook his head, not believing it. "You're reminding me of her. Everything you're doing right now, it's exactly what she did. You're bringing me back to that one memory I never wanted to look back on."
"Don't you dare fucking compare me to her," She snarled. "I am not her, nor will I ever be. Is that how you see me? Just another Destiny? The girl who ruined your fucking life?"
YOU ARE READING
you seem to always think about how the world is against you. how every person surrounded by you consumes the distraught aura you hold, feeling it wrap around your neck like a mans bare hands and strangles you until you feel utterly left of air to in...