Lasting Impressions©

Judgement.

  .

     When I left Harry's I didn't know what I expected exactly. I didn't blame him for his reaction it hurt but I couldn't blame him.  I saw so many emotions run through the Forrest colored eyes before they closed and opened to show nothing. I left his place shortly after he did leaving my journal hopping maybe he could read and see where I have been in my head. Maybe he could understand some of the emotions I am dealing with. I walked to the bridge that I spent a lot of my time at when I needed to think.

In a horrible laps of judgement I stop at the corner store, I walk down the supplies and my eye catches on a pack of blades. I know I don't want that I don't want to harm myself anymore, but I also want the hurt to go away. I've grown all to comfortable I. The numbness, the pain and hurt is slowly peeking it's way back in. I turn the next corner and see the liquor. I grab a thin bottle of vodka shaped like a flask and slide it in the hip of my pants. I go to the cooler and grab a coke, pay and leave.

Once im at the bridge I unscrew the vodka, put the bottle to my lips and tip it back. Chugging almost half the bottle at once wincing as it hits the back of my throat.

As my head begins to spin with the second long drink of my alcohol. I see him, I didn't know what I expected but Harry showing up winded and with tears staining his face was defiantly not it. It broke me, again to see him hurt. I am the reason behind his tears, I know that even though I don't know why he would be. He stops and eyes me uncertainty trying to read where I am emotionally, truth is I don't know. I'm hurt but I also feel so relieved that I've told him. I've been so locked up in myself and so alone, maybe letting him in will help me maybe he is the key to the emptiness that has bound it's self to my chest.

"Hi,"
Harry whispered, his face not showing any telling emotions. I could see that he had been crying but I couldn't tell why. He eyes the bottle in my hand but doesn't say anything about it, which I greatly appreciate. 
"Hey, look.."
I was cut off mid sentence
"No, low I am so sorry I should have known I should have been here for you."
"Harry "
He closes the space between us, but out of reflex I step back. Harry catches the movement his eyes strain in to mine, reading me like a open book.
"Harry I am sorry, I .." I stutter. Not even sure of what I'm apologizing for. I'm surely to inebriated to deal with this right now.
The intolerance to alcohol that I have built up since Harry came back into my life is a real hinderance right now.

As the ground begins to spin and my head feels to light, I feel Harry wrap his arms around me. I can hear him talking but, can't make out what he is saying. It is like an explosion happened a gun shot my ear drums have blown. I see his lips moving and hear noise but the ringing out weighs his words. He leads me back towards his house. I'm not sure but at some point I feel myself lifted off the ground and held in a bridal position. Probably for my protection, seems how I am a stumbling mess.

....

As Harry lays me down in his bed, i open my eyes I've been in and out turns out a fifth of vodka Is enough to black out. I feel his arms leave my body and a chill takes over in his wake. I reach out for him just as he turns his back to me, wanting his assistance in ridding myself from these tight clothes. When he doesn't take notice I undo my tight black jeans and try and wiggle my way free with no luck. That's when he turns back to me, too see me in the middle of a terrible struggle.

"Hey hey hey what are you doing ?"
He asks trying to stifle a laugh. I push out my bottom lip in am attempt to pout, as he sits down next to my flailing legs on his bed. Harry placed his hand lightly above my knee to calm me down from my failed escape from my pants. I've only gotten them slid down my hips partially, just exposing mid way down my underwear.

"Let me help you Low, what are you doing?"
He asks and I'm sure he knows the answer. Maybe he is just trying to make me comfortable.

" Too tight, mm.. your shirt?"

I mumble fragments of sentences, knowing that he will understand exactly.
I regret downing that bottle, right now is not the time to be incoherent. We should be discussing what a fuck up I have been. Instead Harry is be the gentleman he is and take if care of me. Before I can put anything together he has me rid of my jeans, and his eyes catch on the two latest carvings in my ankles. I stoped slicing into my wrist after the first few it's just to hard to keep them covered all the time, and I hate the sideways stares you receive when there noticed.

Harry runs his thumbs over the newly formed scabs. The sharp intake of breath almost sucks the air out of the room. He shifts his eyes from the slits in my flesh to my eyes. Green pores in to my soul and I can't even form a thought let alone an excuse. Harry doesn't speak although his eyes scream disappointment and maybe even sorrow. He keeps his eyes contact as he moves his working hands to my jacket unzipping it and sliding it down my arms. He takes extra care near my wrist gliding the palm of his callused hands down smoothly, checking to se if there are new scares there as well. Thankfully there isn't. After ridding me of my hoodie and jeans he stands and pads over to his dresser to fetch a clean black t. He slips the oversized shirt over my black camisole, it pools at my waist and I lay my head down on his fluffy pillows, ready for sleep to consume me.

Shortly after I'm lulled in to the darkness of my minds confines I feel Harry slid in to the bed next to me.

"Harlow, I'm sure your already asleep. I'm sure you can't even hear me, and I'm talking to myself like a pillock. .... but Harlow I'm terrible my sorry. I should have just been here for you. Low you mean the world to me and it hurts to see you this way love . "

I wait until he stops talking to turn in to him, I place my arm over his naked torso. It's my turn to run my fingers lightly over his scars. The scars he received for me. I don't say anything, but he knows I heard him. And he wraps me up in his protective embrace kisses the top of my head and whispers me a good night. And I let myself be consumed by the blank blackness that I call sleep.