Come June [ h.s. ]

7

7
.

The town of Hillford was located on England's southern shore. It was notably small; the kind of place where most people either drove past, or stayed forever. Harry wasn't sure which sort he was. In his heart, he prayed that he could stay forever; that he could find shelter from the rest of the world, and never look back.

In recent days he'd grown fearful of being discovered. If that were to happen, he'd be forced to flee all over again. He was rather good at running away; but that didn't mean he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing it.

It was now late in February-- the twenty-second, to be exact. Time had passed so quickly that it left Harry astonished. Had he really been here for almost a month? It seemed like only yesterday he'd woken in the apartment, with cold feet and the lonely silence, wishing himself a happy birthday.

As he stood in front of the dresser that morning, he ran his fingers through his showered hair and sighed. In nakedness, he tried to avoid looking down at his body, for the ink-stained skin made him regretful. He sometimes wished he'd never touched a needle; that he could once again be a blank canvas, pure as freshly fallen snow. After finding some undergarments, he pulled a long-sleeved shirt from the drawer and slipped it over his head.

The person staring back in the mirror seemed strange.

There was something almost innocent about him, with his sunken eyes and damp hair, clothed in white.

Surely not Harry.

Never.

With a sigh he walked into the living room, casting his gaze through the glass door, out at the sea. It was dark today, and rolling gently. Not a boat could be seen. He'd grown to enjoy walking along the waterside on mornings like this, when everything was still and quiet.

He'd remove his sandals at the edge of the dunes and hide them within a large, hollowed log; his mother always told him to hide his shoes when he was younger.

"Why?" he'd ask.

"Because someone might take them."

"Then why wear shoes at all?"

She wouldn't bother to explain the dangers of glass and whatever else was hidden beneath. Harry could be very stubborn, especially when he didn't understand.

It was for that reason many of his relationships fell apart.

His first girlfriend was named Ella-- he met her at school. She was short and slender, with a freckled nose and lips that curved upward. When he first saw her, Harry thought she could possibly be the love of his life. She was rather quiet. A twinkle came to her eyes whenever he made a joke.

After Ella came Jeane, and after Jeane came Liz. All of them were beautiful in the same way; fairly thin, with long hair and soft voices. They were cruel in their attractiveness, and never cared much for the things Harry enjoyed. They were far more complex than he was; they could never understand his hopes, nor his dreams.

So they went.

One after the other. 

Harry eventually found himself losing interest in relationships. He gave himself away to women he met along the road, many of which did not love him. He thought that's what it was all about-- sex, drugs, and rock and roll (well, minus the drugs).