Rehab was hell. Group sessions were slightly less painful but still shitty enough.

He wanted nothing more than to just fall back into the old routine with Scarlett. At least she would have kept him company.

No one even bothered to speak to him here unless they were begging him for drugs or hitting on him; he wanted neither.

At night, he found himself wondering if she ever thought about him the way that he thought about her, all the time.

In a way, it helped to keep him sane and asleep at night when the halls seemed eerie and almost ominous.

He got himself into trouble quite a few times after getting carried away in dirty thoughts of her. He couldn't help it; he missed both her company and their sexual encounters.

It wasn't long until he relapsed, even got back into the cigarettes the moment he got his hands on one.

They had this program where they introduced them to new concepts each week and whichever they took to they were supposed to use instead of drugs or alcohol.

Recently, Harry had taken a keen interest in art. And according to everyone else, he was quite talented in the subject area.

The only problem was that whenever he set to it, all he would ever end up with were portraits of Scarlett.

An urge surfaced in the middle of the day and he took out his new sketchbook and set of pencils.

He had just finished drawing when a voice suddenly asked, "You draw her a lot. Who is she?"

Harry's face fell, "She used to be my lover...in a sense."

The stranger took a seat beside him, "What do you mean when you say 'in a sense?'"

He ran a hand through his hair and sat back in the cushiony chair.

"She started out as just a one night stand. Then we made a deal to be both drug and fuck buddies. Somewhere along the way, she became my friend. And after that, I felt myself falling. I left her with a note a few days before I came here."

His head turned to the girl when she didn't answer; she appeared to be trapped in thought.

"Did you ever tell her how you felt or did you just leave?" Her gray eyes met his, reminding him almost of Scarlett's, although hers were much darker and more vibrant.

"No. I lied first and she got upset with my answer to one of her questions. I left before she woke up. The note told her that I had personal issues to resolve."

Her brows knitted together in an almost angry expression, "Define your personal issues?"

Harry sighed; this girl was beginning to irritate him.

"I was-I am in love with her."

"That's a stupid reason."

His jaw clenched, "This is a stupid conversation."

He didn't wait for her to answer and quickly grabbed his things, stalking off toward his room.

It wasn't any of her business whether or not he loved her. Why would she care anyway?

This place was driving him crazy.

                         * * *

He had been in one of those moods that got him in trouble but he couldn't help himself.

He hated getting himself off but with no other relief there really wasn't much he could do about it.

The door opened halfway through his sinful act and in popped the girl from three days ago.

Immediately he stopped his actions, throwing the sheet over his exposed manhood quickly.

"What are you doing in here?"

Her eyes moved to the bulge in the blanket, "I was listening as usual. Your room was interesting."

Harry rolled his eyes and shifted uncomfortably, "Yeah well, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish so please, get the hell out."

The girl did exactly the opposite, biting her lip as she moved to the edge of the bed.

He watched her carefully, trying to predict what she would do.

Before he knew what was happening, the blanket was thrown away and her mouth wrapped around his throbbing length.

His eyes screwed shut as his hands formed fists, "No..."

The girl hummed and he couldn't help the moan that passed his lips. She didn't let him finish like Scarlett always would before her skirt was lifted and her underwear pulled aside as she slid onto him.

He hated that this was happening but couldn't seem to stop it, he was too needy, and it had been so long since he had been with anything other than his hand.

It wasn't long before she was screaming his name, he tended to have that effect on every women that he slept with.

But rather than saying her name, which he didn't know nor bother to ask, he said Scarlett's over and over again, imagining that it was she that was with him and not this strange girl.

She didn't bother to remove herself as he came and he hoped to dear God that she was on some kind of birth control.

Removing herself she spoke, "Definitely interesting. Goodbye Harry."

She left without another word and he the threw the unlit lamp at the door.

"I hate this place!"

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