.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 14. Blackout.

There was a clock by the far wall, and I knew it was already too late for visitors. No wonder my friends left. There was no doubt they'd be back to work in the morning, which meant I'd have plenty of time alone to figure out things.

Being alone sucked.

In here, I was always surrounded by people, I was always occupied with something, but now, in the empty space of a very relatively small insipid room, I was getting nostalgic.

A tap on the door made me stare at the sound of the sudden knocking.

The doorknob moved and there was a head filled with rebel hair that was peeking inside, taking all of my breath away just by looking at him there. My shoulders sagged in relief and the knot in my stomach loosened after looking at Harry, standing by the door, as if I was expecting his visit.

"Uhm... Hello."

Oh fucking hell, he was really here.

He waved at me lightly, walking inside and showing the rest of him in a relaxed fitted grey sweatshirt, his hands tucked inside of his front pockets, and a pair of round shaped reading glasses framing his troubled eyes, which actually made him look charismatic and intelligent, even though the guy always cracked a few simple jokes. The room was already shrinking to almost half a size just by his mere presence there.

Shit.

And I probably looked like Rocky Balboa.

"So this makes us quite a pair, huh?" His deep, slow pronunciation rumbled through the room, taking all of the energy and matter under his bare hands. The unreality of the situation combined with the scare trigger and whatever drug they gave me to knock the stress out, made me feel quite loopy and dazed. I couldn't help a lone giggle to escape, and maybe I was cocktailed so high that I was imagining him dressed as a tired intellectual. "I bribed Lori to let me come here to see you."

He took a seat in the space across from me on my bed. Our gazes connected but I didn't look away, as tempted as I was. It was hard for me because resignation crept up my spine every time I had to face him and know, deep down, of what I've seen, of what really happened. I said nothing, just smiled drunkenly at him, all high up in drugs, and pleased to have such a view on this lonely hell hole of horrible fate.

"Are you alright?" He asked me, his voice echoing into the whole room.

I am now.

"I've been better." I answered him back softly, and a sly smile curved his lips, relief lightening his eyes.

"Do you need anything?" He was taking in my beaten face, which I was still reluctant to see, his sight lowering to my broken set of wrist, screws and nails, to the bruises that were left in what was visible of my body. I wanted to cover my face from his scrutiny, scared of what he was encountering now. I probably looked hideous. "Anything you want, it's done."

Maybe a kiss?

"No, I'm good, really." I quietly wet my lips, and for a moment I imagined his own pink lips crushed against mine. I knew it was the meds talking, what else?

"You were thinking about something." His eyes were looking into my puffy ones, and maybe they concealed the fact that I was blushing, because I did thought of asking for a mind numbing kiss. "Just name it."

No way.

"If I come across something, I'll tell you."

"I mean it." He insisted, while poking the spot on the blanket, where my feet were resting. I was just noticing the couple rings that now embraced his long fingers and I moved them away as the ticklish feeling was making me jump a little against the pillows. He just smiled at me, probably trying to lighten up the mood. 

"I know."

"So what happened? Lori said that you had minor surgery, but now that I'm here looking at you, I know that's not it." He leaned back and fished a fresh piece of gum out of his pocket, unfolding the wrapper off and popping the strip into his mouth. He had a nice sparkle in his eyes, one that had dulled upon looking at me, but was now slowly coming back. It wasn't just the way the light hit his eyes behind his glasses, but the way he looked at me, as if nothing else mattered at that moment. The movements of his jaw were effecting the words he mouthed. "I swear I knew something was seriously wrong when you didn't turn up for the session."

He offered a piece of gum to me, but I declined with my head.

His therapy session, I promised to be there.

A chill ran down my spine and I reclined my head back, closing my eyes. My lip was shaking with emotion, as I tried to swallow the tears but they wouldn't listen to me, and they started falling as if they had a mind of their own. Harry moved closer to me, his face wordless as he gently skimmed the skin that was holding my IV in place. The touch firing with warmth my crushed senses.

"Please don't cry... it's not..."

"I saw her..."

It took him two seconds to understand what I was implying, his eyes jumped in fright, not really believing my words, or maybe thinking that I was playing with him somehow. As in instinct, he rubbed the spot on his chest, right where his healing wound was placed. He knew what I was talking about.

"Who?"

"I saw your stalker..."

"Wait, how do you know... how did..."

"She followed me home..." My voice cracked. I could feel my eyes wide with distress, and his own eyes matching mine, both of us like a pair of complete intimidated puppets, being played by a horrible and sadistic puppeteer, fucking with our heads, manipulating our lives.

"She did this to you."

It wasn't a question.

Harry knew, his cheeks were stained with red—an angry shade mixing with a lot of feelings at once. He was looking into my fear and I could bet he was looking at himself through it all. He knew what she did, and he knew that she meant her aggressions and her warnings, she was serious about taking him with her.
She wanted all or nothing, and she was probably going to get it.