Victoria's POV :
In all these years I have learned to be a strong girl, to be there for the people that I love and myself to protect me from what is not good for me. And yet I'm in a hospital room with a drunk guy named Harry, whom I've never really talked to, who now says what I have to do and better don't do. Sister Clara really wasn't much help at all, because she has not even asked if it was ok for me that he can stay here for the night. In my room. Without someone who could engage in an empyreumatic situation.
A familiar feeling is spreading through my body, tormenting me in the chest and tingling in my fingertips. Fear. Far too often I have been a witness of this feeling. And yet I've mastered all confrontations with my foster parents. A cold shiver runs down my spine as I, like far too often, think of her greasy hair and the anger that was practically written in his face every day. I come out alive and I'm still hoping that Casper has also managed it this far.
However, I don't know what Harry will do with me. He could do anything, all that he wants, because nobody sees what is going on behind the closed door that separates us from the other patients, the nurses and doctors. No one would find out when he would threaten me. Maybe this is exactly the reason why he wanted to be in my room again. To threaten me, blackmail me or even worse. I'm definitely too weak to even physically defend myself against it now. In addition, it would be sheer agony for my chest. One of the challenges of my illness. The disease, whose name I still can't remember.
I'm trying desperately to stop the tears as I think about my fate, that it will may end everything very soon, while I press my trembling lips together into a thin line, but catch myself at it as I break down internally and I can't hide my emotions any longer. A hot tear tumbles down my cold cheek, followed by numerous others. I try to stay as quiet as possible, convinced that Harry has already fallen asleep a while ago but I don't want to wake him up. He needs to sleep it off again, waiting until the alcohol is out of his blood circulation. If you, not like me, have the chance to live freely, to be able to do what you want, then you should not get drunk until you have to sleep it off in the hospital. However, I know nothing about Harry and his private life...I just know that he has a drinking problem and apparently likes the opportunity to catch up his sleep at the hospital. In my room.
"I can hear your tears," he whispers, but his voice sounds determined.
Harry's sudden appearance makes me nervous. I thought all the time that he had fled from this world of reality to dream of something better. But I was probably wrong. Even though I am now with my mind by him, the tears have not yet become less and the trembling of my lip increases with every stitch in my chest area.
"Tears do not make a sound, so you can not hear them," I reply harshly, but notice how unstable my voice sounds, clenching the thin blanket that still not really keeps me warm.
"Slow down, I'm not saying that you are not allowed to cry," he explains repellently and I hear the sarcasm in his words.
What?
"That makes it way better than before, thanks," I respond with at least as much sarcasm in my voice as he had before.
He abruptly props up on one of his elbows and I look at him, thinking back to what I had thought before. No one can help you if he loses his temper. His eyes sparkle mysteriously, but somehow they seem somewhat helplessly to me. He wrinkles his forehead, looking angrily. His mouth is slightly open, but there is no trace of the influence of alcohol anymore.
"You are not the only one suffering, okay!" His sudden rage scares me and I feel like my fingers start to hurt, because I cramp them way to much .
"Okay..." I reply, but it is only a faint whisper of regret.
The tears on my cheeks are now dried and my lip is trembling just from talking to Harry. His mood changes and that way of him exhausts me and yet I don't really know him.
I hear the squeak of his metal bed, as he shifts his weight on it, placing himself in a different position. Then he sighs clearly and so loud that it almost comes across as if he wants my attention. And of course, he has it now. Harry stares at the ceiling, his arms crossed behind his head and his legs stretched out in all directions.
"Damn it! I had it all! Money, friends ... but these were wrong friends and alcohol destroyed every chance for me to get to the top. They have made me this way. It's their fault," he whispers, and seems to be a bit more calm than few seconds ago. "Life can end so fast ... you have to enjoy it to the fullest. I-I just can't enjoy any longer ... because I have already lost it all."
He makes me speechless. A strange feeling rushes through my body, but this time it's not the pain that bothers me. I feel sorry for the first person with whom I have exchanged more than just a few sentences. And that person is not my brother. I want to know what has made him who he is now, what he has lost and how he made it that far. What brought him to the ground? On the other hand, he is also wrong with his statement. He solely has the decision of what he has to do and don't do, not his friends. I don't know what had happened, but I know very well that he could have quit it at any point.
"You are the one in charge. What you do and don't do is only your choice," I tell him, lightly bitimg on my bottom lip.
He scoffed and eventually sighs again.
"Yes, Victoria. And I have made the wrong choices."
YOU ARE READING
GASP
Fanfiction- You better breathe as long as you can - Would your life end soon, you would try to make the best out of what you have left to enjoy. But if you don't know anything about your ultimatum you'll need someone who will take the lead. And in her case t...
