Within This Broken Body

Chapter Three

"So, this has been going on the entire time and I never noticed? God, I'm such an asshole."

Harry and I sat on the top seats of the bleachers. I had just basically told him my life story. It had taken a lot of strength to actually tell another living soul. But I felt as though I could trust him. I placed a small hand on Harry's arm.

"It's not your fault. I've never told anyone. Not even my parents. You couldn't have known."

Harry gave me a sideways glance. "I can't believe you won't tell anyone. Della, you need help! I mean, you can't keep living like this! You can't go through hell everyday!"

My heart constricted. I didn't need help. I'm fine. "I don't need help, Harry. I'm just fine. I can handle myself," I said gathering my bag.

I hated being told I need help. I stood up and started to walk down the hard, shiny, metal steps. They clanked under my converses.

"Della, come on. You can't keep living like this. You hear of people everyday who got help and are much better now. Don't you want that?"

This time, Harry didn't chase me. He simply took his time walking down the steps after me. I was already at the bottom when he was halfway down. I spun around to face him.

In a calm voice, I said, "Harry, you don't know what it is like to be me. You don't have to live through what I do. So please don't tell me how to live my life."

Harry was in front of me now. He had a solemn look on his face. He wanted to help me but I didn't want his charity. I turned and started walking towards the fence. This time, Harry raced after me. The lush manicured grass crushed underfoot.

I could hear it.

I had just reached the fence when I was forcefully spun around and pressed into the fence. Harry stood in front of me so close I could feel his hot breath against my cheek. His arms were grasping the chain link fence on either side of my head.

I didn't have much time to react before Harry crushed his lips into mine. It wasn't gentle like the last one or long like before. Instead it was hungry and rough but very quick. When Harry pulled away, I was left in shock. I stared into furious eyes.

They scared me.

His large hands grasped my face, forcing me to look at him. "Della, I'm not going to force you to get help but I am going to try my best to help you."

I held my breath for a moment. But, giving in, I sighed and nodded. Without saying a word, Harry took me into his arms.

"I will never give up on you again, Della. I swear."

~~~~~~~~~

Harry offered to walk me home but I insisted that I was fine. After we had gone back into the school, I grabbed my books and slipped out a side door. My teacher would have been furious if he knew I left.

It was only 12:30 but the late May air smelled thickly of summer. I breathed in the delicious scent. A sense of security had settled somewhere within me.

Shedding my hoodie and wrapping it around my waist, I tried to shove my books in my bag but discovered what had shattered. My favorite bottle of perfume was reduced to bits of glass at the bottom of my bag.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath.

I just slung my bag over my shoulder and carried my books instead.

The walk was short and before I knew it, I was standing on the steps in front of my house. Sighing, I slipped the key into the lock and opened the door.

The smell of basil slapped me in the face. I dropped my bag by the door to be dealt with later. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw my mother waltzing around to soft jazz in her apron.

Her back was to me so she didn't see me until she spun around and pretended to dip herself. I giggled which caught her attention.

She stopped and looked at me with wide eyes.

"Della! Honey, what are you doing home so early?" She exclaimed.

Don't get me wrong, I love my mom. She's just a little eccentric sometimes.

I gave her a smile and said, "I was feeling sick so the nurse sent me home."

She nodded an cracked a smile.

"Great! Now you can help me cook this chicken for your father. He's coming home tonight!" She said, excitedly motioning towards the uncooked chicken sitting on the counter.

"I'm actually feeling sick so I was going to head upstairs and take a nap. I would if I could, Mom. I'm sure Dad will love it." I said the last part quietly as I climbed the stairs.

Dad left months ago. Both my fourteen year old brother and I knew he wasn't coming back but Mom still held onto hope.

When I got into my room, I shut the door and sat down against it. I combed my fingers through my hair and thought about the black haired boy.