Perspective

Chapter Fifty Three.

"So stay the night
I promise that I won't bite
'Cause without you there
I don't think I could close my eyes

How do I end up this way?
A constant knot in my gut
Tied with uncertainty and with lust."

***

So, after Harry tried to hammer me on the wall like a fucked painting - the rest of the night went well.

I mean, I won't be able to walk up a flight of stairs or anything today but aside from that it was very relaxed.

He followed through with his 'plans' like he wanted to, listening to music and talking.

However, that lasted all of about an hour after we had both showered and had gotten back into my bed.

We both passed the fuck out, well, Harry passed the fuck out. I fell asleep not long after him.

Harry did however one hundred percent figure out how to curb gizmos mood swings - when he let Gizmo back in the room he wasn't even upset. He just looked expectantly for the rest of the bag of treats Harry had brought with him.

My stomach still flutters from flashes of last night, laying there with him in the dim blue lighting with music echoing around the room. All of the soft affectionate kisses, the way he would play with my hair or how his fingers spent their time finding new parts of soon to trace soft patterns against.

The way we were wrapped up with each other in our own little world while I got lost in the sound of his voice as he spoke with that slow tired voice as he started to fall asleep; at this point he could read me a nutrition label on the back of a packet of noodles and it'd sound like poetry to my ears.

I love the sound of his voice. It's gotten me through some of my worst nights.

After Harry had fell into a coma last night, I managed to pry myself out of his grip to then have to climb over gizmo on his back at the end of the bed; so that I could tiptoe out of the room.

I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep otherwise.

I had snuck out of my bedroom and made my way up the hallway towards my mothers, and felt that same anxious fear gnawing in my chest as I stopped at the door.

I pressed my hand against it, and carefully leant in to press my ear against the cold wood of the door: hearing my heartbeat echo in my ears as I did so.

The seconds ticked by, each adding to the uneasiness growing in my stomach.

Until I heard it.

A cough. 

She's breathing.

I always have to make sure she's breathing before I can sleep.

Old habits die hard I guess.

I felt my shoulders slump in relief, and pushed away from the door; making my way back up the hallway staring at the ground but stopped dead when I heard my mother make those sounds she always does.

Those groans and wails, the ones that eat at my sanity because while I know now it's behavioural; it cripples that part of my brain that can only register sounds of pain coming from my parent.

I hear another drawn out groan, and then hear her whine out my name.

I doubt she's even awake. Or maybe she's hoping I hear her from my room. I never know why she does it.

But my whole body flinches when I hear it.

I'm like an animal that's been beaten and cowers when you try to pet it.