Vorfreude

Chapter 40

I watch the sun on the horizon through the windows of the abandoned room. For the past three hours, there's only been me and another soul even inside these corridors. People walk in and out of the entrance of the main lobby as if this is their home and they know their way around. Not a single person speaks to another and it stays this way. 

My vicariously attractive man who sits not even 4 feet from me types away on his computer and I do the same on mine. We're two similar humans that never interact, but cross paths. Suddenly he's up and running out the doors of the  lobby as a small blonde headed girl comes running along the pathway with whom I can only assume is her mother.

I'm alone.

I've written almost 3,000 words this morning which isn't a lot, but it's a lot more than writing nothing. If I was so damned distracted from media or the environment around me, I could probably write a lot more.

I finally opened Erin's message and it's a TMZ article about me getting scratched. "Tons of blood on the pale face queen of new era writing," the title claims. I laugh at it. It seriously wasn't that bad in my perspective. I've been scratched a lot worse living on the ranch in the middle of nowhere for most of my life than what she caused. My arms barely feel pain anymore even though if I take the bandage off and move the wrong way, blood begins to slightly pool. My dad didn't take it easy on me back in the day even though I was a girl. He always wanted a son and I did my best to meet his expectations since I'm an only child.

Also, I'm not that pale.

"It wasn't that bad, LOL," I reply in the group.

"YOU HAD BLOOD RUNNING DOWN YOUR ARM," Erin types back.

"Excuse me, WUT!!! I need pics," Ant says.

Guys chill, she was insane but it was no biggie.

I set my phone down on the table and go to google. I type in the incident and there's actually a video recorded from the incident from someone that was in the crowd semi close to us. Is everything I do these days recorded? Oh wait, that's the limelight of being near Harry.

I watch the clip and my eyes fool me. Just as the girl comes near me, I see her pull something out of her back pocket. I pause the video, rewind and zoom in. A small silver blade is on full display as she takes it out of her denim clothing. She covers it with her palm and points it upward as she launches towards me. As Oliver shoves her back, she loses her grip, it slides back and cuts her palm, but as she pushes forward again and actually grabs my arm, I watch in slow motion as it pierces my skin.

Holy fuck. 

I take a video of my findings on my phone and send it to the group.

"Nvm, bitch is crazy. It was a blade." 

I don't wait for their responses as I shut my lid and eagerly find myself rushing back to my room. I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach now. Was she actually trying to jab me with a knife? What the fuck did I do to her to deserve that?

I walk quickly through the lobby and press the button to the elevator. My anxiety is pulsating. I can hear my heart beating inside my head.

Thump, thump, thump.

Gotta love the consistency of developing at the wrong times.

"Harry!!" I hear someone scream. Oh God, don't tell me my mind is about to replay what happened yesterday. Anxiety of what could've happened or what can happen is enough for the moment.

The elevator dings and I step on only to ponder the quietness inside the confined walls. The chaotic energy dissolves.

Wait a minute...