Hearts Without Chains

25.

~Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about~ Winston Chruchill (all I can think of is New Girl when I hear the name Winston aha!)

Harry-

On Saturday I sit on Daniels torn couch cushions, toying with a bottle of beer in my hand. It's five in the evening and I'm already drinking, trying to ignore Layla who sits on the arm of the couch beside me as she whines about shit I can't bother to listen to. This morning when my mother got home from work she tried to talk to me again, but I dismissed her in a not so gentlemanly way and left the house. I don't want to talk about it or think about it, so I decide to drink.

I tip the bottle back and down the rest of my beer, glad there is not a lot of people here so I don't have to hear a lot of talking and blaring music. It's just Daniel, Toby, Shelby, Trish, and Kody. Oh, and the annoying girl beside me. Sooner or later the fucktard Joey likes to call Tyler enters the house, with a blonde girl on his arm. I'm just glad it's not a certain brunette.

I sent her a text a few hours ago to ask what she was doing but she never answered. So that's why I resolved to coming here after my unanswered text, to drink away my anger and thoughts. I'm on my third beer, and am soon being stood in front of Daniels dining room table to play beer pong. And then, the bitterness of vodka burns down my throat as I take a shot with Layla. I feel numb when she puts her lips on my neck, and mumble a few profanities under my breath as I push her away from me. I stumble out of the kitchen, bumping the shoulders of a few people as I pass. I hear Shelby call me a name for spilling some of my vodka drink on her by accident, but could care less as I turn down the hallway.

My heart is beating at the kind of pace that tells me I'm drunk as hell, and I find that even in this state of mind I can't escape my problems, or thoughts for that matter. When I turn the knob of the closet door to the right of me, I shut myself inside the dark space to block everyone's voices out. When I stumble over something on the floor and almost bang my head on the door, I curse loudly as my drink spills a little in the process. Once I find the light switch, the closet brightens and I lean against the door. I take a drink from my cup while taking my phone from my pocket, scrambling for it when I drop it. The bright screen hurts my eyes as I scroll through recent calls.

"Hello?" Her voice is groggy, and this makes me pull back my phone to look at the time, the number across my phone screen still accompanied with no name. It's nine thirty now, and I guess she was sleeping.

"Harry?" I hear Joey ask again.

"Why did you not answer my text?" I ask instead of a hello, my voice slurring.

"I don't have anything from you." She tells me, and I lean my head back on the door. It must not have sent.

"I'm drunk." I grumble into my phone.

"I can tell." She says.

"It doesn't help." My eyes squeeze shut, and even though a headache is forming I down the rest of my drink.

"Doesn't help what?" She asks me. I laugh dryly.

"It doesn't make me stop thinking about it."

I slide down onto my ass, the arm that I don't hold my phone with on my knee, hand lying limply over my leg.

"Thinking about what?"

"My mum." I mumble.

"What about your mom?" She asks me apprehensively.

"Let me ask you something," I start.

"If you become a nurse will you work with cancer patients? Kids with cancer?" I wonder. The line is silent for a while.