Take A Roadtrip With Him - A One Direction Fanfiction

Reconstruction and Reflexes

I'm so sorry this took a long time!, i moved houses, so we didn't have internet. I also bought a new book, which I am going to recommend to ALL of you 'Invisible Monsters' by Chuck Palanuik. It is the second best book i have EVER read in my entire life, I highly highly HIGHLY encourage you to locate it. It's pretty hard to find, but it's worth it. I spent my time reading and writing when I didn't have any internet.
This is a good chapter, It's long and It's cute. Enjoy it!
oh, and it may be a little triggering to some people. 

Song of the chapter- 'Headlock' by Imogen Heap
I think this song really outlines Astrid's situation. I love it.

***oh, and by the way, the flashbacks are in bold because Wattpad isb eing stupid with italics.***

CHAPTER 5- Reconstruction and Reflexes.

________________________________________________________________________________

 
Louis dials memory-held numbers frantically into his phone.
“if he doesn’t pick up, I'm calling the police” he grits. His legs shaking.
it was amazing to see the support and worry from the boys. All panic stricken and fragile. There was so much love and support. Something I couldn’t be involved in.
You had to love someone to worry.
“are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?” someone says to me, but I am too lost.
We were sitting in the hotel lobby, all of our bags resting on our legs.
you had to love someone to worry.
“Astrid?” Liam asks, again.
“oh” I snap away from my thoughts “-What?”
“Harry, did he say anything to you before he left?”
“No, nothing at all” I lie.
I am going to fix you, Astrid.
that was the last thing he had said to me. That he was going to fix me. How could he damn well fix me if he’s nowhere near me? How could he fix me when he was the one who left?. Maybe he finally realized that i wasn’t worth it. That i wasn’t worth all the pain.
That’s all i was, really. Pain and scars. Covered in bruises, outside and inside. It hurt to know i couldn’t stitch myself up, i couldn’t even apply my own arnica cream.
“any idea where he could be?” Zayn asks me. I just shrug.
“No clue”.
I remember where he used to go in Venice. Where his favorite coffee shop was, where he liked to read, and cry and think. Where he liked to make love, and where we shared our first kiss. But not here. I remember where he sat for hours, remembering and crying about the time when he wasn’t who he was, when he wasn’t known for the amount of people he had slept with. I remember when he was looking for a special book for me, he went to so many book stores in Venice, trampling the streets for just one copy of Chuck Palahniuk’s ‘Invisible Monsters’. Even then, I knew where he was. But not anymore, I don’t have the right to know where he was anymore.
But i hated this. I hated not knowing.

“Astrid, are you alright?” Niall is suddenly next to me. Call in damage control.
I know the warm flood of tears are there before I actually feel them drip down the sides of my cheeks.
why am I always the one that cries?
I am pulled into a hug. I can smell Vanilla.
It only hurts because it’s raw. Because it’s a new type of pain.
Harry’d been through so much, and he’d helped me through just as much. It hurt to know that i couldn’t help him with the things he’s dealing with. I want to tell him that everything is going to be okay. Just like he did with me. I wince at the memory.

~

I attempt to reach the phone again, this time i get it the first try.
It falls onto the floor and i pick it up lazily. The blood-loss was making me dizzy.
Locating Harry’s number on my phone, I hit the call button, putting the phone on loud speaker and dropping it at my side. I was weak and unsteady. My arm was burning.
It rang a few times before he picked up.
“Azzy!” he says, all too cheery “-What’s up?”
i can’t form the words. They weren’t in the correct order in my head. So i just talked.
“mother, hates me. Asked to leave” my breath was shaky and the blood was pooling on the floor, warm and thick and red. I look down at my arm.
“-blood, everywhere”
His voice was suddenly hoarse. Filled with worry and torment “-Astrid?... What happened”.
I couldn’t hold my eyes open anymore, the dizzy spells weren’t just dizzy spells anymore, they were mini-blackouts.
I feel it then, the sudden darkness enveloping me.
I was the white-blonde hair’d girl, bleeding on a kitchen floor in Venice, The one distinct stain in a room full of beautiful things. A red/white contrast.
Then, all of a sudden, I am gone.

~

I awake to the front door opening, then rushed footsteps.
“Astrid?!” the voice calls “-Where are you?!”
I can’t speak. Too lost.
He stomps through the house, looking for me. The kitchen door was closed and locked.
I hear him come closer, he’s noticed the kitchen door.
“ASTRID?!” his voice is filled with fret. It could almost make me cry. I hazily look down at my arm.
Was a gruesome sight that was.
My porcelain skin wasn’t so porcelain anymore, now was it? It’s been faltered, blemished, sliced.
The blood had pooled under my wrist. It was now cold.
The door was busted open, and Harry appeared in the doorway. He gasped once he saw me.
It must have looked terrible, the blood, the knife, the open wound.
He rushed to my side, grabbing my wrist and applying pressure. The more he moved it, the more it bled. Like the cuts you get on your legs from shaving.
“Jesus fucking Christ” he mutters, shaking me violently “-Wake up!, we need to get you.. to a.. to a hospital”
I lazily turn my head. I felt off the hinges.
He held my gushing wound on his hand. Harry ripped his good white shirt and wrapped it around my arm, closing the gaping slice.
Too lost to care anymore.
I had reconstructed myself. Taken out all the important things. Who needs feelings?, who needs guilt and hatred and poorly excused self-loathing? Who needs anything other than a body?, a piece of meat.
I was missing some building blocks in my system, I had taken them out and put them away for unsafe keeping. No more Astrid.
Harry had called the ambulance, the distant sirens were at my attention.
He pulled me into his arms, his shirt staining completely red. I was still limp.
“Everything is going to be okay” he cried as he hushed me softly, tears dripping down the side of his face like candle wax. The sight shocked me; until that moment, I had assumed men were as incapable of crying as they were having babies.
I closed my eyes again. Drifting off.
I’m broken, I have cut myself wide open. I can see my heart and it is not what I had believed it was, it is not good and kind and all the things I had always thought it was. It was damaged and strangled with wrong intentions and poor judgements of myself. Now I had a scar to show for it... Like someone’s poorly executed home surgery. My desperate attempt to reconstruct myself.

~

I look down at my wrist. The scar had healed white, leaving a permanent mark on my skin, along with a few needle marks from the drip I was forced to have. Like I said, I was proud of my scars. They reminded me that I’m still alive, about the human ability to endure.
It was Harry. He had saved me. Kept me from bleeding out.
For a long long time he thought it was something I did on purpose, like I slit my wrist because of the emotional pain, but it was an accident, a simple slight of hand mistake. He never believed me. I never believed myself.
If he helped me from bleeding to death on our apartment floor, then i’ll help find him in the middle on nowhere. It was the least I could do.
“Has he called any of you?” I ask, the boys seemed to be stunned that I had started the conversation.
“Nope” they all say in unison.
“Calling him a bunch of times doesn’t help, it just makes him more nervous to pick up his phone”.  I knew this because I was the one who ran away, I ran from my mother the instant I had the chance. I ran with Harry to Venice.
Where would i go if i was running?
The only place that caught my minds attention was Venice. The beautiful rivers and bridges and buildings made my insides warm. I wanted to wrap myself up in the beautiful comfort when I was there. No blankets compared to Venice and Harry’s arms.
“What about Venice?” i ask them. They all seemed to stay stunned. “-it’s a serious question, what if he just wanted to go to Venice?, remember Venice?”.
They all thought about it. Remembering how wonderful it was to be there, together. It was the one time i was truly happy with myself and everyone around me.
“He has his wallet, doesn’t he?”
Louis‘ brain clicked.
“-and his passport is missing”.
“Jesus christ” Liam huffs, standing off of his seat. The rest of the boys follow.
“-He’s gone to fucking Venice... without us!” Niall grumbles, throwing his tote bag onto the ground.
Everyone seemed rather frazzled that he would do such a thing. I wondered how he actually got to the airport.
“I could be wrong, guys” I clarified. “-What if i’m wrong, i mean, he could be meeting a friend somewhere”.
“Then why didn’t he tell us?”
“-Because it’s just a Harry thing for him to do, when does he ever tell anyone anything?”.
“He tells you everything, which is why i’m speculating your whole story, Astrid” Liam says
“Excuse you?”
“You’re hiding something from us, you probably know where he really is”
“IN CASE you haven’t noticed, Liam, Harry and I aren’t together anymore, he doesn’t even talk to me to the full extent anymore, Why would you think he’d tell me where he was running off to”
“It just seems a little suspicious, I heard you and him last night... You were arguing”
my face flushed crimson.
I felt meek.
“-He... he uh.. He was in my room last night, we had a fight”
“Jesus, Astrid!. Why didn’t you tell us this!?”
“-I didn’t think it was important”
“NOT IMPORTANT?!” Zayn yells “-THIS IS BLOODY WELL IMPORTANT!”