** ATTENTION: Chapter in the POV (point of view) of Harry Styles. The letters in bold chronicles what happens after Harry talks to his mother, the rest are the next day after. Please read my author's note as well :D THANK YOU.
***
My heart combatively drummed within my chest, its malignant rate completely depriving me from my ability to properly communicate; however I unwillingly nudged the phone closer to my ear with flimsy determination. The anticipation grew increasingly agonizing with each expectant ring as the phone rocked unsteadily under the negative influence of my fidgety hands. It felt as if my mind had been sucked into a vortex of undesirable memories, my heavy breathing pattern growing inconsistent with each recollection as I anxiously weaved my fingers through the collection of sloppy brown curls that sailed above my jaded set of eyes. I would be deceiving myself if I said I wasn’t tired, but accomplishing this task was much more substantial than my wearisome state.
“Hello, this is the Psychological resilience and medical assistance building. You have reached Doctor. Abigail’s office, how may I help you?”
My ears instantaneously perked up at the sound of a clearly aggravated woman with a thick and overly dramatized Hispanic accent that annoyingly poured into my ears. Although I couldn’t see the source of nuisance that sat on the other end of the line, I could impeccably associate her disgruntled visage which I had creatively sculpted in my mind with her monotonous voice knitted with disinterest, and peculiarly, her estimated level of carelessness had warranted the exudation of confidence upon my once concerned demeanor.
“Yes, erm hello.”
Deepening my voice to achieve the most convincing and conversational tone I could feign, my mind rummaged through lists of acceptable replies as I attempted to tame the mildly spastic explosions surging through my body.
“I’m calling on behalf of uhm, Rose Altkins.” I replied uncertainly, while nervously fiddling with the rumpled piece of poetry in my hands. My mind was immediately sucked out of the conversation as I allowed my eyes which were clouded with skeptic disbelief to scan over the number neatly printed on the paper multitudinously to assure its validity upon the situation.
Why would Lavender have a medical assistance buildings number? I mean, what did I even originally think the number was going to lead me to? Certainly not Lavender, but it was worth a try even if the probability of a fulfilling conclusion was unlikely.
“I assume she is a patient. Are you calling to confirm an appointment sir?” Her voice sliced through the once incredibly mute silence like a pack of freshly sharpened knives, and even with its victorious ability to have wavered me out of my own thoughts contaminated with dubiety, her negligent attitude that radiated off of her tone of voice easily resonated through the telephone frequency with fluidity. I didn’t know the lady, yet her vocal competence was enough to make me flinch in clear annoyance.
“Yes… that is uhm correct.” I confirmed with incertitude while mentally slapping myself in the face for my idiotic response, yet inwardly expressing my gratitude for the mere fact that the secretary was maintaining authority over this conversation. The obnoxious clacking of a keyboard and the exaggerated prolonged sigh that slipped out of the woman’s lips pursuant to my request could faintly be heard as I restlessly paced back and forth, impatient for a satisfying answer. This was my only hope. My last chance at searching for answers before I was long gone. The clock couldn’t have ticked slower, and the minutes could have crawlingly dragged on for more than an eternity as I coveted for a reply. Everything seemed to be inactive, except for the sound of my feet which were moving frantically fast from the injunction of my very own nervosity.
After reaching good terms and experiencing a pleasant moment of concordance with my mother, I immediately jumped to the central core of my very own predicament, starting with calling the obscure number scribbled on Lavender’s poem. The curiosity was lethal. The alacrity to take action was inevitable. The results were ambiguous, and as much as I hated to admit it, the final product driven by my forced optimism and wishful thinking could lead me to futility.
A dead end.
“Yes. Rose Altkins. I see her name in our records. She has an appointment early tomorrow at 8:00 am Section B26.”
I let out a lengthy exhalation composed of pure elation and relief over the perceived news I had initially sought after. My nerves were finally reposed as my body and mind reveled in the blithe attribute of the moment. Matters were finally falling into to place, and I could only anticipate that they wouldn’t lose their skillful sense of direction along the way.
“Thank you very much.” I hurriedly muttered, the acknowledgement of her assistance barely emphasized through my indolent reply.
Before the nameless voice had the chance to respond, I carelessly hung up before tossing my phone off to the side of my disorderly bed in a precarious fashion. I kicked off my shoes to the corner of my room while collapsing on to my duvet from the abundant level of feebleness that had ultimately depleted the remaining amount of vitality available in my incredibly exhausted body. Gradually twisting my neck to the side, I managed to look past my chaotically dispersed locks which were now disheveled from the numerous amount of times my hands had uneasily glided through them in worriment, while barely reading the flickering numbers on the dangerously red digital alarm clock placed on the center of my bedside table – 2:00 am. Although this was a major setback for my plans I had specifically for tomorrow, I had to embolden myself despite such obstacles. It was essential. As I relished in the opulence of my beds warmth and desired comfort, my mind had, without meaning, traveled back to her persistent, yet hauntingly alluring figure.
The way her rich mahogany brown locks cascaded into flawless waves that elegantly migrated down her petite frame only to adorn her glowing porcelain- skin which always made me overwhelmed in every way manageable. The way her thick fence of lashes faultlessly shielded her cerulean blue eyes in which fully illuminated the most crepuscular nights. The way her nervous mannerisms constantly drove her towards the playful toying of her fingers and the effortlessly sensual biting of her pink, plump, yet insanely inviting lips that drove me absolutely crazy. She was the picture of perfection. Had she smiled, the world and all its wonder would enter a euphoric state of joviality at such a sight. Had she laughed, the world would carouse and feast over such musicality. Had she wept, the oceans would offer their condolences through the serene activity of their waves, and the world would rush with such urgency for the simple reason of consoling her grief-stricken condition.
I craved for her.
Had I given up on her, the world would have endeavored to shower me with an evilly tenacious and unforgettable form of remorse.
The world wouldn’t have cared.
***
I pushed through the impeccably pristine glass doors of the medical institution whilst battling to adjust my beanie which screamed for salvage as it clung loosely over my excessively tousled hair. Slouching my taut shoulders back to achieve a higher sense of impudence and significance, I confidently swaggered my way down the dimly lit entrance hallway, the gleaming, yet undefiled white surface of the smoothly tiled floor blatantly glaring in the direction of the florescent lights with mild supremacy as the faint projection of light danced along its external cover.
My exterior appearance practically oozed confidence, but if you were to strip me to my core, you would learn that my stomach was writhing in unstoppable anxiety as I lacked the normal possession of my social acuity.
Why was I even here?
The lingering question had managed to keep me up. Although it may appear to be a rather straightforward answer, the ceaseless list of possibilities as to why I had such a strong impulse to drag myself to a medical assistance building as early as 8:00 am on the exact same day as my scheduled flight to England, completely baffled me in every way imaginable. Whether I was in search of my long lost sister Rose, or delving to sew back the seams of my immensely convoluted encounter with Lavender, all I knew was that I yearned for answers.
Without thinking, my feet had ushered my lean figure towards the front desk, my free hand absentmindedly running through the cluster of stray curls which poked out of the woolen textile of my burnished colored beanie. My eyes wandered over to the two woman seated behind the stretched counter with overflowing proficiency, one of whom was chatting animatedly on the phone with an evidently irritated client, the other of whom was actively typing away on her computer, the pads of her fingers speeding across the keyboard with fluent rapidity as I examined their sophisticated environment.
Thoughtlessly leaning my side on to the counter in an apathetic manner, a rather lazy habit I had grown accustomed to, I cleared my throat while observing the woman that was once noisily typing on the computer as she instantly stopped and shot her head up only to absorb my escalating level of impatience. Her eyes glued back to her computer screen for a fraction of a second, the powerful radiation reflecting off her rectangular shaped glasses which unfixedly hung off the bridge of her nose before tearing her gaze away from the computer monitor and intensely molding her eyes directly into mine once again.
Her lips broke into a manifestly fake grin. “Hello doctor Abigail’s office, how may I help you?” She politely asked.
Her tone of voice was artificially high-pitched and perky; however I was thankful that the vibe she imparted wasn’t as antagonizing as the woman I had previously communicated with over the phone.
Forcing a crooked smile with the friendly companionship of my dimples on to the surface of my face, I managed to push out a reply. “I would like to see Doctor Abigail if you please.” Self- consciously running a hand through her sleek sheet of pin-straight platinum blonde hair, she tossed it carelessly over her shoulder before beaming at me with exorbitant interest. “Of course,” she slowly replied before sending me a suggestive wink.
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I watched as she conversantly typed something into the computer system while scrolling through a series of appointment sheets. "May I please have your name sir?"
"Harry Styles," I simply replied before shooting her a dazzling smile, the very action completely adept at commanding her cheeks to be painted a light pigment of crimson red. Her eyes glided hastily across the surface of the computer, her overwhelmed expression altered to one of extreme confusion embodied by the expansion of her eyebrows which induced wrinkles of uncertainty to ripple on to her forehead. "I'm afraid you don't have an appointment booked," the flustered lady replied in a sorrowful tone. She crammed a frown on to her face which was already layered with an unnatural amount of makeup, the substitute emotion only managing to broadcast the incredibility of her facade all the more.
The smile which was once originated from contentment over my persevering mindset of proceeding with this plan was instantly wiped off my face, as a mixture of unsettling emotions instigated an expression of bewilderment to fall across my heated countenance. I might have rushed into my plan a little unprepared, but you can rest assured that I would be prepared to go through great extents and measures just to get through to Dr. Abigail's office. This was my very last chance, which technically insinuated that I needed to take my very own.
"Wait, what do you mean? I need to get through." I snapped. Both my palms were now firmly pressed along the countertop in a rather authoritative manner, my voice exposing different hues and tints of the uttmost desperacy. The woman shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her hands uneasily traveling up to adjust her name tag which was hanging askew reading "Lauren" in severely bold italic letters, her sharp actions accentuating the institutions stringent system, and the employees excellent sense of control when it came to preserving decorum in the rhythm of unpleasant situations caused by clients.
Something told me she wouldn't be so permissive, but that's where the charm becomes a useful appliance.
"I'm sorry, but our rules strictly state tha-" Before she could even finish her completely valid argument, I craned my neck forward only to have my lips barely meet her right ear, as I nearly witnessed her dangerously accelerating heart rate due to its evidently rambunctious movement and the potency of our close proximity. "Now Lauren, you don't think you can bend the rules... just once? For me?" I slowly whispered in a hushed tone, my tongue emphasizing each word as the very act controllingly emitted the array of shivers which were gradually launched down her spine.
Keeping the position, I dipped my hand deep within my pocket while fishing out $40 in the process, my hand cautiously slipping it through to her stunned figure, as she mentally savored the moment. From the corner of my eye, I captured a side glance at the other secretary who was privately continuing her heated conversation in the back of the office, giving me the convenient opportunity to freely bribe her through the undeniable force of my magnetic appeal and thick bundle of cash. "So what do you say? Hmm?" I playfully inquired in a faint tonality.
Distancing myself away from her dazed state, I instructed the corner of my lip to twist upwards only to form a broad smirk of achievement at the sight of her head which vigorously bobbed up and down in clear understanding and surrender. Enveloped in the effects of my insuperable trance, I watched with amusement as her trembling hands collected the ransom I had provided her with, the decision relinquishing the professional title she had once acquired.
"Room 214. Third door to your left" She informed, her demeanor held captive on a cloud composed of hypnotic energy, the very source remaining to be my captivating and witty attitude.
Nodding my head in acknowledgement before estranging myself from the front desk, I couldn’t help but bask at the pleasant feeling of triumph I had achieved. I had managed to fool the front desk. Let’s just hope I wasn’t fooling my heart with the central rreasoning behind my arrival.
After ambulating my way down the interminable corridor, the area’s lack of color availability succeeding at issuing a feeling of depression to fill up my spirit to the brim, I had finally reached room 214.
I wasn’t sure what to feel. I didn’t know what to expect. It was all unpredictable. Was I going to finally meet my long lost sister Rose? What would she look like? Would I enjoy her presence? Or maybe my decision is just driving me towards a disappointing and useless end result, similar to the scenarios I had originally knitted in my mind.
I could feel my violently evident pulse beating within my ears, choking out all external sounds except for my drawing of irregular breaths. My lungs began to expand against the durable walls of my chest as I stared at the what seemed to be, a never-ending door, my stomach clenching in agitation. Fearfully hooking my fingers around the door handle, I had managed to amass the remaining amount of vigor that willed me on, the simple, yet forceful push permitting the hinges of the door to swing open only to expose an image I wasn’t prepared to see.
My eyebrows jumped up in astonishment as my mind searched for the right words to say. “Lavender..?”
Buried in the solitudinous atmosphere of the deepest corner of the room, my abashed face slowly surveyed the beautiful teenage girl that sunk deep within the waiting room sofa as she intently intertwined her fingers in a sullen and high-strung manner. Her long, luxurious coffee-colored mane had been straightened, her fringe naturally falling just above her brow in an effortlessly perfect fashion embellishing her angelic features. The image of her long, slender legs were on full show, the olive green shorts she wore accurately hugging and beautifying her body shape, complimenting her radiant skin tone. As I’ve analyzed before, she had been playing with her fingers, and abstractedly chewing on her bottom lip probably due to the profoundness of her thoughts, and because it was one of her many nervous habitudes that were undoubtedly embedded within her uneasy soul; nevertheless I still adored it all.
Her head boosted up in alarm only to welcome my bewildered expression. I could have sworn her face was instantly ignited with a sense of jubilation at the sight of my arrival; however every trace of exultation that had once graced her features was dexterously camouflaged by the frown she had managed to mask her veritable emotions with.
“Lavender… w-what are you doing here?” I asked while jamming my eyebrows together in puzzlement. The feeling and fact that Lavender was in the same room as me after our unpleasant dispute at the lake made me more than content, but I couldn’t hold back or even further deny the amount of remorse I would feel after being granted the second chance to lock my eyes with her once more, yet carry the unfortunate knowledge that within a matter of hours, our indefinite relationship would be detached. Forever.
“I’m pretty sure the real question is what are you doing here?” She pressed, while folding her arms across her chest in an illegitimately heated manner.
“Lavender… I” I paused for a brief moment trying to grasp the amount of pain my words weighed and what that could possibly effectuate. “I’m leaving for England… tonight. I was going to tell you yesterday… but you left so suddenly and I was so trapped in this state of pure happiness, I just… I couldn’t.”
The words fell out of my mouth the same way her face fell from most likely shock and disbelief, completely rupturing the progressive streak of the obstinately dark emotions she was attempting to showcase. The walls of the façade she had built, completely annihilated by my unexpected and stupefying piece of information. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it seconds later as she was completely rendered speechless. I took that as my cue to speak up.
“I’m- I’m sorry about what happened at the lake. I know what I did was wrong I-“ Feeling my emotions spiraling my expression out of control, I paused for couple of seconds before proceeding. “God Lavender- I just- it was awful. Even though I barely know you, the past few hours I’ve spent without you have been torture. I feel like I’m going insane!” My words had come out as more of a personal confession rather than a statement; however the sincerity deposited in my tone of voice seemed to have a mild effect on Lavender. It deemed to be unavailing. Her angry and disappointed attitude had assuaged, but her lack of speech made me question my actions.
“I’m going to miss you so much. More than you will ever know” I quietly murmured to most likely myself.
I took a minute to meticulously memorize and craft every detail the moment has presented me with into my mind. The way Lavender’s right leg respectfully draped over her left. The manner her hair gracefully fell over her petite shoulders embroidering her facial features. Even how her eyes had lost their lustrous shine and were staring over at me in a passive nature. The attire she was wearing and how it meshed with her skin. The manner she nibbled on her bottom lip without awareness, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. How she tried to act annoyed, when she was genuinely in high spirits over my visit. Even if the description didn’t gage a moment that would be labeled worthwhile, it was the only one I would get with Lavender before my departure.
I had to capture every moment, like it was my last.
This one was most definitely my last.
“Harry, I-“
Before Lavender could even respond, the rather high-pitched sound of the door being shoved open had ordained our awkward gaze to disconnect, as a posh and modish lady emerged from the door frame, the interference quelling the agonizingly intense atmosphere.
“Rose Altkins" She called out, while directing her gaze towards a terrified Lavender.
My blood ran cold.
"Hello, I’m Dr. Abigail. You can call me Anne. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come on inside so that we can start our first session,” She flawlessly recited in a pretentious air.
Had I heard that properly?
My eyes frantically switched over to Lavenders only to confront the look of sheer horror and its dominion over her alarmed expression. Our silent interaction of troubled emotions were openly channeled through looks of confusion exchanged, disappointment and the beseechment for explanations. My eyes furiously landed on Dr. Abigail, her intensifying level of impatience characterizing her every feature, and soon enough I found myself drowning in a familiar pool of a lush green colour.
Dr. Abigail's eyes.
Her eyes latched on to mine for the very first time, the astonishment outwardly modeled on her face indicated by her mouth which hung wide open, her green orbs cruising down my face as if searching for something.
I was suddenly consumed by a wave of recognition as the puzzle pieces fittingly connected only to exhibit an ingenious revelation.
Lavender’s conflicts with her parents.
The depression she had suffered from for years.
The bullies that preyed upon her all throughout Middle School.
Lavender was here for professional help.
Most importantly, her haunting past.
If Lavender was my long lost sister Rose, why would she lie to me about her name? Did she know that we had once grown up with the same parents?
Why didn’t she tell me?
The way she painfully stared at me at that moment in time, her eyebrows contorted in an imploring manner as if urging me to comprehend the reasoning behind her actions was absolutely heart wrenching. Her eyes that could once challenge the sun’s most incandescent of performances, were transformed to eyes that discharged colossal amounts of grief and guilt.
Although I promised myself to retain the moment for memories I would eternally carve into my mind before my destructive trip to England,
This was an expression I rather wouldn’t want to memorize.
Instead of solving one puzzle, I ended up creating two.
I ended up finding much more than Lavender.
Much more than Rose
Much more than I intended.
_______________________________________
AUTHORS NOTE -
Hello my lovely readers. Okay so I haven't updated in a LONG while. Once again, I appologize. I also recognize that due to my prolonged absences, my story has been immensely declining in popularity. Boo :( I STILL LOVE YOU ALL THOUGH. I understand why it would. Anyways, I'm sorry if this chapter is horribly written and has many grammatical errors, I was extremely lazy to edit and proofread. I will correct mistakes tomorrow. I've been working on this chapter for the WHOLE holidays so I REALLY hope you guys enjoy :D
PLOT TWIST in the next chapter (:
AND WHAT WHAT? THE SECRETS OUT! Lavender is ROSE, but she technically isn't Harry's sister. They just grew up together.
Anyways what do you think Harry's second mystifying discovery could be? What do you think will happen to ROSE and Harry?
LOVE YOU GUYS. 24,000 READS? NO WAYYYYYYYY. Thank you all!! You don't even realize how much this means to me. There is nothing that can descry or express my increasing level of gratitude. Thank you to all who read, vote, comment and stick around.
I appreciate you all.
You're all beautiful!
Happy holidays, and as usual...
xoxo.