You Make Me ▶▶A Hunter Hayes Fanfiction◀◀

Chapter 2

A/N: Quick side note! Whenever there are full paragraphs that are italicized, that means that Harper's dreaming.

“I can’t believe you!” Willow says, sounding exasperated. “That water you wasted is coming out of your paycheck.”

“Oh,” I say cocking my head, “you mean my already non-existent one?”

She scowls. “You get paid.”

I cross my arms across my chest and pout, “Barely.”

She shoots me the hundredth glare today. “I need to get ready for my date later with Hunter, so I’ll make this quick, okay? You need to pick up the slack, stop getting distracted, and look like you’re actually enjoying your job or else I’ll have to fire you.”

My jaw drops. “What about Greg? He sleeps all day and he still gets paid more than me and Ruth combined!”

“And no more complaints,” Willow says. “Now, get out of my office.”

I leave, feeling the intense need to punch something. It bubbles up inside, fueling my energy levels.

So, I punch something.

Which happens to be the brick wall.

I clasp my hand, pain throbbing from it as blood starts to slowly seep through some fresh cuts on my skin. I curse at myself, stalking back to my car. When I get in, the radio won’t turn on. I sigh and stare out the windshield.

What a wonderful day.

-

“Baby, I don’t want to lose you

Promise me you’ll stay

I only want to see you every night

Not only in my dreams

When we fly

Away.”

She finishes the song, strumming the last chords on the acoustic guitar. I’m quiet for a few seconds, which causes Ginny to look up at me with worry lining her features.

“What? You don’t like it?” She frowns. “I knew it was a stupid idea. Maybe-”

“Shut up!” I squeal, gathering her in a tight, yet awkward because of the guitar, hug. “That was so amazing, so awesome, so you that I was left speechless. It was perfection in a song.”

She chuckles. “That’s a song title.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she says, getting a far-away look in her eyes. “You’ve heard of Hunter Hayes, right?” Before I can answer no, she continues. “Anyway, one of my favorite songs, which is called In a Song, is by him. Ah, if only I could become half as famous as he is.”

I punch her shoulder. “Just wait, and the next thing you know, you’re even more famous than this Hunter Days guy.”

“Hunter Hayes.”

“That’s what I said.”

I wake up to the smell of hotdogs.

That's odd; I live alone in my tiny three-roomed apartment. Why do I smell hotdogs?

I sit up and look around, my eyes widening. My bedroom is full of smoke.

I do the only logical thing and scream. It’s loud and high-pitched, but it’s also cut off short when I realize that it’s not really smoke; it’s steam from my bathroom, where I left my shower running last night. Groaning, I get out of bed and turn it off by twisting the knob.

Wait, why do I smell hotdogs?

I brush it off. My neighbors are vegetarians, but they must’ve cracked. I knew from the first day that I met them that they were meat-lovers.

With the smell of processed meat loafing through the air, I look at my clock.

8:30 PM.

Holy smokes! I was only asleep for an hour!

I lie back down in bed, trying to force myself to sleep. About ten minutes pass before I realize that it’s not going to happen.

I pull out my phone and send Ginny a text, even though she won’t respond.

Me: How’re you doing?

I close my eyes again. Texting Ginny’s old number usually always calms me down for some reason, but it’s not working tonight.

With a dissatisfied grunt, I lug myself out of bed and towards the kitchen, which has a countertop, table, microwave, sink, and a couch. I collapse on the couch, where the darkness finally sweeps over me.

“It’ll be okay,” I coax, my voice cracking. A voice from my mind tells calls me a liar, but I ignore it. I keep my eyes steady on Ginny’s fear-filled ones. “We’re going to get out of this. Just don’t look down.”

She closes her eyes, gulping.

If only she didn’t drop that song book of hers, then she wouldn’t be on the ledge outside of our hotel room, six stories up. She’s extremely scared of heights, but she climbed out the window in attempt to get it anyway. Now, here I am, standing on the fire escape a few feet away from her trying to help her out of the situation.

Suddenly, a large gust of New York wind rushes past us, causing Ginny to lose her footing on the thin ledge.

Her foot slips.

She screams as she plummets towards the concrete below. In a flash, I try to reach out and catch her, which is stupid but it’s all I think to do. I lean too far off the ledge of the fire escape, falling, falling…

Falling…

Falling…

Until I hit the ground, landing right on my abdomen.

Right where the baby is.

Right next to a bloody Ginny.

I bolt upright, cutting off a scream that was caught in my throat. I frantically look around at my surroundings, expecting to see Ginny beside me in a pool of her own blood. My breathing is uneven, a cold sweat radiating off my skin and causing the blanket from my room to stick.

When I realize it was all another dream of the incident, I start sobbing. I pull my knees up to my chest and let it all out, not caring if the neighbors heard me or not.

Through the tears, I glance at the clock again.

10:30 PM

Sensing an even rougher night ahead, I get off of the couch and leave my apartment, the tears still soaking my face. I wipe them away when I climb into my car, then speed off into the night.

What’s the cure to a broken soul?

I don’t know. I only know how to numb the pain.