"Harry?" I said. He was lying next to me in the bed with the duvet wrapped around him.
"Yes, babe?" he said, removing a hair straw from my face.
"This was nothing, right?" I felt awful for saying it. I felt like an ego-bitch who deserved nothing. But I had to do it for me.
"Of course not," he shrugged, but I could see... something. "Of course not! We're like Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis in the movie "Friends with Benefits"!"
I laughed. "I love that movie," I smiled. "Justin Timberlake is hot, and Mila Kunis is so beautiful, for not to talk about how hilarious the movie is.." I babbled.
We laid there quiet a while before I spoke. "I'm tired," I said with a yawn.
Harry started to get up, but I stopped him by gripping his arm. "Don't, Harry," I begged. "Please stay, just tonight. I need emotional support."
He smirked and laid back down. "Good night, Sammy," he said, wrapping an arm around me.
"Good night, Haz," I mumbled and snuggled up next to him, even though I got bad conscience.
--
The next day I woke up alone in the bed. I looked around in the room if Harry was there, but he wasn't. The curtains covered the windows, my clothes were lying in a pile on the floor, the door was closed and the light was off.
I turned on the lamp on the night stand and the room lit up. Then I saw it, a note on the stand.
//Good morning, Sammie.
I had to go to my own room. Didn't want the other lads to get suspicious, you know. I hope it's okay.
Harry xxx//
I put the note in the drawer and walked into the bath room. Then I stood there for a while. I stood there in front of the mirror and looked at myself.
It was strange to think that I more or less was a complete different person for only 24 hours ago.
For 24 hours ago, I didn't have any parents. All I had of relatives was my Grams. The strange thing was that I was completely fine with it. I didn't need any father or sister. All I wanted and needed was Grams, my horse, dog and maybe the boys.
But now that I knew that Mark, if all persons, was my dad... It made me wish that I never had won the competition. That moment, when I was standing naked on the bath room floor and looking into the mirror, I just wanted to be home.
I saw in the mirror that my eyes were filled with tears. I had just realised this tour hadn't brought much good. Ok, maybe I had gotten lots of fans, the opportunity to sing on a stage and a boyfriend. But how was it now? I had at least as much haters as fans. For over a week I had been in hospital, ruining the whole schedule. And my boyfriend was now an ex.
I walked into the shower and turned on the cold water, hoping it would clear my mind before I did anything foolhardy.
I washed my hear while the salt tears mixed with the cold water. I didn't know what to do! A part of me wanted to stay because I loved the boys and to stand on the stage. I knew that was the most selfish part. The other part of me told me to leave. To not keep contact with the boys, Peyton, Mark or the amount of fans.
I walked slowly out of the shower. I were now sobbing. I didn't like what I had become. A drama queen who causes drama wherever she goes, and also felt sorry for herself..
I put on grey shorts and a white sweather, not actually caring about what I wore. I took the plastic bag on my bandaged leg and grabbed my crutches. Then I sat down on the couch with a jar of cookie dough.
I had no idea what to do next. Going out meant to confront Mark, and staying inside meant to be locked in my own thoughts.
I took a huge spoon of dough into my mouth and chewed it. I turned the TV on to see that "How I Met Your Mother" was on. I turned the TV off. How ironic.
I heard a knock on the door, and my eyes narrowed. I walked towards it with the spoon in my mouth and the crutches supporting me.
"Who is it?" I asked, still with the spoon in my mouth.
"It's Mark."
I groaned. "Samantha?" Mark asked. "Are you okay? Do you have any pain or..?"
I shook my head, even though he couldn't see it. "I don't have any pain," I said. I wanted to add "Not physically".
"Can I come in?" Mark asked.
"Why?" I didn't want him to come in. I would rather jump off the balcony.
"Because we have to talk," he said. "Just business."
I wrinkled my pan. 'Business'. "I'm not in the mood for a visitor right now," I sneered. I always become feisty after I've cried.
"Don't be a diva," Mark said, the sarcasm hearable in his voice. "Let me in now, Samantha. It's an order."
"Aye, Captain," I mumbled and unlocked the door. I turned around and crutched over to the sofa.
Mark sat down in a chair above me. "Well, Samantha. Lately the management and I have noticed a lot of hate towards you," he started. "The reasons are that you, not directly, have pushed the whole schedule. The fans has tickets to their concert for one special date and-"
"Mark," I interrupted. "I had no intention by being hit by a car. If the fans hate me for lying in coma, they can go the straight way to hell."
"Behave, Samantha. Don't be such a drama queen," Mark said. My hands were trembling by anger. I put them in my shorts pockets. "There's also some rumours that you and Louis have broken up. And we know that's true. Don't you remember the condition I made for you to date Louis?"
"Not really," I mumbled.
"Don't cause drama," he said strictly. "And, to be honest, you've caused a lot."
"I have caused a lot?!" I nearly yelled. "Of course. It was just a plan if mine that your daughter appeared here and flirted with Louis! Another plan was to get hit by a fucking car! That was really funny. Maybe you should try it some day, Mark. Or should I say... Daddy?"
Mark looked at me with huge eyes. He looks kinda funny. His mouth half open and his eyes looking ready to roll out of his head. His face was pale. Actually, it looked like he was about to faint.
"Who told you?" he nearly whispered.
"Your daughter, Mark," I spat. "Or should I say my sister maybe? I don't know. Maybe I should ask why you ran off as soon as my mother died?"
Mark switched colour from white to scarlet. "I... I had to be alone. Your mother meant a lot to me."
I rolled my eyes. "Not enough, obviously." My voice dripped of sarcasm. "As soon as she's dead you run off and leaves me behind. I'm not very sad for that part, though. How you raised Peyton for example?"
"Samantha, don't talk about things you have no idea about. That's lots of years ago now. I was just a kid." He sounded calm, but somewhat he also sounded desperate. I didn't care though.
"Whatever, Mark. Now," I said, gesturing a hand towards the door. "Leave me alone, and don't come back."
Mark sighed and walked out of my hotel room.
-*-*-
Peyton's P. O. V.
"I feel so terrible for her," I mumbled. I was snuggled up against Louis, who had used his day and night to calm me down.
"She had to know it someway," Louis said calming. That's what I loved with him. He always supported me when I had a rough time.
"Dad should've told her. Or maybe her Grandmother," I sighed. I felt so stupid! Why could I not direct my own mouth?!
"Maybe you have a point there," Louis said, making circles on my back with his finger. "But it wouldn't make it any better for Samantha."
I saw pain in his eyes when he said her name. He was still in love with her. But now she showed no interest for him. Another thing caused by Peyton Freyn.
"She has to love you again some day," I stated. I had to fix what I'd broken.
"I can only hope," Louis mumbled.
Then I knew it. I had to fix up my mess.
--------------------
This is terrible. I'm not even going to pretend it's not. I'm sorry. Forgive meeee!
xxx