I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands so vigorously that I started to see stars the moment I pulled my palms away. The action wasn't because I was tired, or that my eyes ached despite spending the last two hours reading. It wasn't because they were itchy, scratchy, or any other ailment. It was merely a foolish effort on my part, that failed just as I knew it would.
I had hoped that by rubbing my eyes, Harrys face would disappear from my mind. That I could erase the looks on his face over the last ten days from my vision and memory, absolving me of the guilt and pain I felt for causing it in the first place. It didn't work, of course, but still I tried.
It wasn't like I wasn't used to him looking at me that way. That whenever I passed him in the living room, he would glare at me with this strained blending of longing and hatred, or look away completely pretending I wasn't even there. This was how we had lived together the first weeks of my time in England, so you would think I would have been used to it. Maybe even that it would have been easy to go back to this state, since it had been one that I had learned to navigate already.
But it wasn't. Because every time he looked at me that way, every time he pretended I didn't exist in his life, another piece of my heart broke away. Like the petals of a wilting flower, I could feel it decaying in my chest, a shell of what it had been when he cared for me.
He had looked at me this way so many times, but never like this. I had learned to ignore it, to ignore him, but now I simply couldn't. Because each of those looks burned into my mind and soul like a brand, scarring me deeper than any broken bone or burn Reign had ever dealt me.
Because this time, I had earned those looks from him. Before, I had been an innocent bystander of his internal struggle. Now I was the catalyst for his heart feeling shattered.
My room was dark apart from the lamp on my night table, the comforter doing little to block out the cold that came from within me, having nothing to do with the winter storm raging outside. This was how I had spent almost every day and night over the last week and a half, all but hidden away in this small square space, escaping the looks and blame I saw on the faces of my roommates every time I ventured outside.
Harry had tried to talk to me over those first few days. He would knock on my door for hours, even though I had locked it from the inside, keeping him out of my room and my heart. At one point, he had gotten himself so worked up, so angry, he had started trying to take the hinges off the wall with a butter knife, shouting at me that if I was going to act like a child, he was going to have to treat me like his mum did him when he did the same thing at seven years old. Finally, Louis pulled the knife from his struggling fingers, talking him down from his frantic state, and leading him away.
After that, it was attempts as we passed in the house, waiting outside my classes, or sending me texts at all hours. You would think it would be impossible to avoid someone you lived with, but I will admit I got pretty good at it. Hiding away in my room like a veritable prison was my main go to choice, and after days of pulling away from his grip, refusing to look at him and see the hurt in his eyes, and telling him there was nothing left to talk about, he finally gave up on trying to force me.
Again, just like that night, he didn't follow. But I wasn't angry, because I needed him to stop trying. I needed him to make this decision easier on me, because every shout, every declaration and every promise that he wouldn't let me ruin this only put another crack in the icy exterior I was trying to maintain between us.
I didn't want to end things with Harry. It hurt me deeper than any pain I had ever experienced to think of him across the hall, in his bed, alone. To remember the feeling of his hands on my skin, and the way he made me feel safe. He had slowly started to rebuild me, piece by piece, over these few short months, and for that I would always be grateful.
But I couldn't ignore the warning cries from within me, urging me to tread carefully. The memories of another boy, just as charming, but so fucking dangerous that once I had fallen into his grasp, I almost lost my life trying to break free. I couldn't risk that again, no matter the fact that Harry was so different. Love meant pain in my experience, and I wasn't ready to risk that sort of pain again when I still hadn't healed from the first.
It was better this way, I told myself. Things were moving too fast, I was giving myself away again too quickly. I already felt a tie to him, an invisible line that bound me to Harry and made me feel afraid and naked without him. That dependency was what started with Reign. That feeling of needing him, of wanting to be with him all the time, but then quickly changed as he did. No longer did he call me to him like the evil queen in Snow White, enticing me with promises of love and protection. Instead, he used what I thought had been love as a shackle, twisting all his promises into chains, all disguised in a beautiful poisoned apple.
I couldn't take that risk again. I couldn't let another boy be my downfall just when I was learning to stand on my own.
So, I hid. Through that first week. Through preparing for finals, locked away in my little cave, ignoring the calls and texts from everyone in my life. I barely survived my exams, the information I so desperately tried to retain, all characters and heroes, suddenly baring Harrys face and green eyes. But I got through the week of hell, which now had a completely different connotation than it ever had before.
The others tried to talk to me, but I wouldn't listen. Liam and Louis both pulled me aside, gently trying to understand what had happened. I told them it just didn't work, before walking away. Henley cornered me outside our first exam, drilling me on why Harry was falling apart. I told her I couldn't talk about it. Even Niall, my original referee, had tried to understand. His previous stance on Harry breaking my heart was not completely dissolved, as now he watched my impact on his friend first hand. But again, I refused to talk about it, shutting him out like I did the world.
It was now the second day of Christmas break, and all I wanted was to escape into the world of fiction, leaving behind me all evidence of my new and just as fucked up reality.
A soft knock at the door pulled my attention from the window, my book long ago ignored on the bed beside me. I stifled a sigh, exhausted at the thought of having to talk to anyone else. I didn't have the energy to fight anymore.
I didn't answer, hoping whoever was on the other side would think I was asleep. Sure, it was only seven o'clock, but it was the holidays. Sleeping excessively was an expectation of college students.
Niall's smooth accent called through the door.
"I know you're not sleeping, Montana. I can see the light under the door, so quit the shit."
Normally, his sass would have made me laugh. This time, I just frowned, remaining silent like a petulant child.
"Don't make me get the damn butter knife,"
I groaned, pushing out of bed and unlocking the door before turning around quickly and climbing back onto the soft mattress. I heard the door squeak open just as I pulled the covers back over my legs. Niall slipped inside slowly, like he was entering the cage of a dangerous animal. That was fairly accurate, no? A scorned young woman suffering heartbreak had many of the same tendencies as an unpredictable animal. Rage, lashing out, and incomprehensible consumption of poor food choices were characteristics of both sides.
Coming into the room, I could see the change in Niall immediately. Before tonight, he had been slow and cautious with me, confused and concerned. Tonight, however, he looked determined and focused, immediately causing my walls to rise between us in defense.
He perched on the edge of my bed, angling himself towards me. I stared at him tight lipped, waiting for whatever lecture he had planned to come at me with accent laced hostility. But the longer he took to speak, the more on edge I became.
Finally, I broke our silence.
"What, Niall?"
"What did he do to you?" he asked, pain in his tone.
As much as I knew the question would come eventually, it still stung my heart that he would ask it. Harry had been nothing but incredible to me, treating me the way I wish I had been treated all along. He did nothing but make me fall just enough to frighten me away.
"He didn't do anything, Niall," I sighed, shaking my head. "Harry and I just-"
"Not Harry," he interrupted shortly. "I know Harry didn't do anything."
His response pulled me up short. "Then what-?"
"You know who I mean, Sutton." He clipped, his use of my name over my nickname showing me just how serious he was about the conversation he so badly wanted to have. The moment he referenced Reign, I withdrew, folding in on myself instinctively, protecting my secrets. But Niall wasn't having any of it.
"Look, I get that you're scared. I get that whatever he did to you fucked you up, and I saw it the moment you got here. I hated the look on your face whenever any of us would touch you or come up behind you, because it just proved how much he hurt you. I know I don't have the right to ask for these answers, but I'm going to anyway. You're one of my best mates, and whatever this prick did is hurting not only you but my other best mate, and its fucking hard to just stand by and watch it unfold and not be able to do anything or even understand. So please, just help me understand."
I watched his blue eyes, imploring me to open up to him like I used to. I used to tell him everything when we were kids. He was my safe place, my sounding board and my confidant. Even when time and an ocean pulled us apart, that bond never really went away. And yet, the thought of telling Niall all the things I had kept hidden from everyone for so long terrified me.
His warm hand covered mine, squeezing gently.
"Its just me," he said softly, the harshness of his tone gone. "It wont leave this room. Just help me understand."
A lump began to form in my throat, my body attempting to block the words from escaping. To stop me from breaking my silence, and releasing my demons. Closing my eyes, I swallowed it down.
"He didn't start off hurting me," I said, barely above a whisper. In my minds eye, I pictured the Reign I knew from the start. The smile, the warmth and the disbelief that someone like him would be interested in someone like me. He drew me to him like a moth to a flame, before burning me alive. "He was...sweet. Funny and charming. My mom introduced us, since he is the son of one of the guys in management at the hospital. The moment I met him, I knew I was in trouble. I just didn't know how right I was, or in what way until some time later."
Niall said nothing as I slowly started to open the flood gates, pouring forth a years worth of anguish. He held my hand silently, his thumb rubbing across the back.
"When he started to change, I didn't even notice it at first. It was little things. Snapping at me for things I said, or losing his temper at me. He would always apologize after, saying he didn't mean it and it wouldn't happen again. But it always did, only worse. He would put me down, breaking my confidence bit by bit, and I didn't even notice it. He pulled me in so far, when I finally realized what was happening, I was trapped. He had moved me in with him not long before he started to change, and by then I was terrified to try and leave him. It started out with him just throwing things when he got mad. Shouting at me and breaking glasses or bottles against the wall." My throat burned at the emotion clawing its way to the surface. "The first time he hit me, was because I spilled his drink. He lost it, telling me I was clumsy and stupid, that no one would ever want me and I was lucky he kept me around. Then he slapped me, I couldn't actually belief it had just happened. I sat on the floor, stars in my eyes, my face throbbing wondering how the hell I had gotten here. By the end, I would have given anything for it to just be a slap."
A low rumble of anger sounded in Niall's chest, but I didn't look at him. I couldn't stand what I knew I would see. Fury, frustration, and pity. So I kept my eyes closed, my head bowed, and kept talking.
"I found out he was dealing drugs about a month after that. I had always wondered how he afforded the nice apartment and clothes, even though it was always a mess. I came home one afternoon unexpectedly and found him sitting around the living room with two other guys, lines of cocaine on the glass table. I remember standing there confused and dumbfounded while these three stared at me with humor on their faces. Reign just laughed, saying the cat was out of the bag, before taking a line. I thought he would beat me for finding out his secret, but he didn't. After that, he didn't even try and hide it. But he told me that if I ever tried to turn him in, I wouldn't live long enough to regret it. And I believed him."
I felt the warmth of tears on my cheeks then, the air cooling the trail they left on my face, but I didn't try to wipe them away. The bed moved as Niall shifted, pulling me into his arms. I didn't resist him, and I didn't embrace him. I just fell into him like the lifeless shell I was.
"It went on like that for a while. I never told my mom, even though I think she knew something was wrong. I was always a bit of a klutz. You know that. So I had a scapegoat for the bruises and scrapes. But I still think she always wondered, since I was always a shit liar."
"She knew," Niall said softly, brushing my hair back. "She mentioned it once to my mom." I tensed at his honesty. "She was scared that if she confronted you that you would run. That you would disappear and she would never see you again. She didn't know what to do."
My heart throbbed, aching in my chest. "I didn't know what to do either."
Niall only rocked me, not saying anything.
"After he broke my arm, and I had no choice but to go to the hospital, it all came out. I couldn't hide it, because no one believed me anymore. My mother was frantic, obviously, calling the cops and forcing me to file a restraining order. Like a piece of paper was going to stop him from coming for me if he wanted. I knew he always had a gun in the back of his jeans, because he reminded me of it whenever I pushed back. All he had to do was place a hand on his hip, and I would back down. I was like a fucked up version of Pavlov's dog, but he trained me well."
"Don't fucking call yourself that," Niall snapped. "That isn't-"
"But it is, Niall. He trained me to believe everything negative he told me. I learned to believe that I couldn't survive without him. I was conditioned to be quiet, be subservient, and to never leave. The only reason I did, was because the police were involved, and the hospital. My mom wouldn't even take me to her hospital that night because she didn't want his dad to know anything. When I was released, we moved in to one of the rental houses one of her coworkers owned, just so he couldn't find us back at my moms. She sold that place, and uprooted everything to help me escape. But just leaving his house wasn't enough. I still saw him everywhere, had nightmares every night, and couldn't escape what he had done to me. I tried therapy, but it didn't work. Nothing worked. Finally, my mom was out of options, and decided I had to come here. That it would be the only way I could really feel safe, and start over."
Niall sighed, his warm palm running up and down my back. Usually, the action would soothe me. But tonight, I was too numb to feel anything.
"Harry isn't like that," he said gently, angling his chin to look down at me. "He would never."
"I know that. I know he couldn't be more different from Reign if he tried. But the last time I let myself fall for a boy, he destroyed me. I barely escaped with my life, and even though I know Harry would never do to me what he did, I still cant chance losing myself to someone else. I cant risk falling again, and never getting back out."
"Falling isn't a bad thing, Montana. Yeah, you had a really shit experience, so I get why you would think falling for someone would mean you lose yourself to them. But that isn't what it really is, not when it is with someone right. You don't lose yourself to them. You find yourself with them."
Again, the lump in my throat throbbed, fresh tears falling silently from my eyes. "I'm still too broken to do it, Niall. I wish I wasn't. I wish I was normal, and could let myself feel everything I am holding back. I wish I could give myself to Harry without fear, and enjoy every minute of the fall, but I cant. I am still trying to put myself back together. That is what coming here was supposed to be, me rebuilding myself and a life. I didn't plan on meeting him."
"I know that, babe. But who says it has to be one or the other?"
His question confused me, causing me to pull back and look him in the eye.
"You don't have to choose, Sutton. It doesn't have to be your healing or Harry. You can do both together, because he can help you get there like you helped him. You don't know what he went through when Ana died. He told me he told you about that night, so I wont go in to all the details. But watching him try to live after that was...hard. A lot like watching you when you first got here. Walking through life like a zombie, seeing blind. Sure, he slowly started to find some form of functioning, even if it wasn't the most normal or effective. When you got here, I didn't even realize how much you looked like Ana until he lost his shit. That was why I didn't really get too pissed at him that day because when I went into his room to cuss him out, all he said was her name. Just once, and I realized. It hit me like a punch to the chest, so I could only imagine what it was like for him. He tried to ignore how much you looked like her, but I know it was hard for him. Even now, I cant explain how eerie it is even for me. But as he got to know you, I saw him coming back to life. He was talking again, going out with us to parties. I knew he was getting attached to you, which was why I freaked out at first. I didn't want him to use you as an Ana replacement."
"I was,"
"No, you weren't. You couldn't replace Ana, because you aren't the same person. You look like her, but you aren't her. He didn't fall for you because you looked like her, Sutton. He fell for you. He talked about you, not how you reminded him of her. He wanted to do things for you, not reenact his moments with her. Everything that happened with you guys was between you and him. She wasn't a part of it."
My eyes had dried up, but the burn behind them did not ease as I listened to his words.
"I don't know how to do this," I cried, my voice breaking. "I don't know how to let go of what he did to me, and really be with Harry. I'm scared that if I give myself away again, I might not get me back."
"You might not, but you would get him instead. He is a bit of a wanker, and his hair is stupid. He is a neat freak and I love nothing more than socking him in the nuts when he pisses me off. But I think it is still a pretty good trade, if you ask me."
Unable to hold back my laugh, I giggled stupidly as I wiped my face with my hands. I felt exhausted even though all we had done was talk. I wanted to believe everything Niall was saying, but I still felt so confused. I hated hiding away in my room, but I wasn't ready to face Harry and everything I had broken. Again, for completely different reasons and on the other side of the world, I needed an escape. Just for a little while.
My phone buzzed softly against my bed, breaking the moment between Niall and I.
"Fucking girls and their phones," he muttered, earning himself a smack on the shoulder from me. Bringing the device forward, I grinned as I saw a new email from my mom.
"Hi honey,
I just wanted to check in and see how your exams went. You've been awfully quiet this last week, is everything alright?
I put up some of the Christmas decorations today. I will admit, I wasn't going to do it. Not much point when its just me here, but before I knew what I was doing, I had dragged the box out and started hanging little things around. It looks nice, but still kind of lonely. Christmas wont be the same without you, Sutton.
I miss you. Give your old mother a call soon. And tell Niall I said hello. His mother asked me to ask you to tell him to call her. She hasn't figured out email all that well.
Love you,
Mom"
I felt my chin quiver, a new ache burning in my heart. The thought of my mother decorating her small apartment alone was painful. Just as painful as the idea of both of us spending it alone on opposite sides of the world.
I needed an escape from the shattered piece of the life I had built here. I knew I couldn't run from Harry like I did Reign, but I did need some space. I needed air to breathe and time to figure out exactly what I wanted without knowing he was just on the other side o the door with his frown, green eyes and a butter knife. And it sounded like my mother needed me, too. Just so she didn't feel so alone.
With a newfound resolve, I closed my email and opened a new browser. My sense of determination must have tipped Niall off, because he peered over my shoulder.
"What?"
"I'm going to go home for the holidays," I said firmly, scrolling through the flights from England to Montana. " I need some space and time to think, and my mom shouldn't spend the holidays alone just because I made a bad choice."
Of course, Niall frowned. "Is it safe? I mean, what if you run in to him?"
I was already shaking my head. "I wont. Its been six months, Niall. He didn't even care about me when I was there, why would he still hold a grudge over losing me all this time later? I have no doubt he has moved on, and I'm not going to let him stop me from going home."