*Story containes MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT*
THIS IS A SEQUEL / PART 2.
Read "Stall" before this book, unless you just like spoiling things for yourself. If that's the case, you do you boo.
"Something can be both delicate and violent"
***
Harry lowe...
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I'm baaaaaack. Miss me? I missed you lil saucy croissants.
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Today is the big day.
Well.
Afternoon.
I've barely had any sleep after getting Harry out of that bathtub, but we at least managed to make it out of the house in one piece.
We. That's the important part.
I managed to talk Harry into tagging along to this appointment with me, simply to meet Steve's friend and consider talking to him. He's driving me to the appointment and waiting while I'm there; and he agreed to at least see if he felt comfortable enough to make an appointment for himself.
I may feel half dead from the lack of sleep, and nervous as all hell about this appointment but the fact Harry agreed to come and really didn't put up a fight at all to the idea - even though he seemed extremely pessimistic about it, gave me that glimmer of hope I needed.
It's a step in the right direction. It's seeking some kind of help, or at least attempting to find it.
The day hasn't been free of ordeals though.
We had an intruder in the house, and I was held hostage in the kitchen - it was terrifying.
It was my screams that alerted Harry, and had him running from our bedroom as fast as his feet would carry him until he stopped in the kitchen doorway holding his gun, ready to shoot whatever had those sounds of terror screeching from me.
He had found me, standing on the kitchen counter, damn near trying to climb up the wall while I stared at a brown field mouse that was snacking on Ludo's dog biscuits in his bowl next to the kitchen sink.
I may have gotten to know Chubbers, but just like with Harry, my fear didn't just magically disappear. That experience did help, but Chubbers was also domesticated.
This fluffy demon is not. It is wild and dangerous - vicious even. It had no fear.
It tried to attack me.
Which is how I ended up on the kitchen counter. It ran over my foot.
Once Harry realised there wasn't an axe murderer in the house but a mouse, he let out a deep breath of relief before he pressed his lips firm together in an effort to not let out the laugh that his lit up eyes were giving away.
He gave me a sympathetic look while trying not to laugh, because if there's one thing he does understand, it's the toll a phobia takes on you.
The demon in fur was totally unbothered by my breakdown and high pitched pleas for Harry to help me, it either had absolutely no prey instincts or it was literally in a food coma from devouring dog biscuits.
