**Warning For This Chapter - Mild Violence **
"What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt that way.
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you "
**
I didn't see or hear from Harry again after I left his house a month ago, and I can't help but be hurt by it, and it makes me feel stupid and ridiculous.
All of my messages went unanswered, and I would spend my days at work feeling a hopeful flutter in my stomach, only to have it crash and burn the minute I would see it was never him walking through the door.
The one night I tried going to his house, to ask what I had done wrong, all of my knocks were met with the same thing as the next 30 days, nothing.
I don't know what else I should have expected, the fool in me thought that something might have changed between Harry and I after that night, that I'd managed to get closer to him and start to piece together the mysterious puzzle of his life together.
I guess maybe I thought, idiotically, that maybe he hadn't meant it when he said he didn't care about me, that there was a sliver of him that held the same affection for me that I do him, but all of that was crushed by the first week of radio silence.
I've been moping around this entire time, growing more and more angry at myself for that pull in my chest when I think about him, which is all I seem to do. The fact that I miss him so deeply only adding to my self destructive misery.
I feel like I've lost something that wasn't even mine in the first place, and the more I try and make sense of it, the more confused I get.
It's like he's dangled this hope on the end of a string, just out of my reach, only to rip it away from me just as I'm about to clutch to it. I almost feel like it was his intention to get me exactly where he wanted me, where he knew I was in too deep to crawl my way out, and left me there without a second thought.
I couldn't escape his face, it haunted me whether I was awake or asleep, my dreams would become more vivid and torturous, some days waking up and swearing I could smell his cologne lingering in my room.
For a while I was worried, concerned maybe something had happened, feeling sick over the thought that he had hurt himself or maybe he finally ended up 'getting lucky', as he would put it.
I spent nights googling drug interactions, the effects of mixing whatever he mindlessly puts in his body, trying to understand how it works or even how to help.
I even spent one pitiful afternoon calling the hospitals in the area asking if there was anyone that had been admitted by his name.
That worry was quickly splintered into pain when Sophie mentioned she saw him at the club one weekend while she was there, and he seemed to be having the time of his life and not a care in the world. I couldn't explain to her why I seemed so upset by it, why I winced at the mention of his name or her recollection of the night, and I had to excuse myself when she started telling me about him almost having sex with one of the dancers on the couch in front of everyone, before dragging her out of the bar.
I'm such an idiot.
I have no right to be jealous, I'm in a relationship and Harry is free to do as he pleases - but it was the sharp ache over being discarded so carelessly that had me curled up on my couch most nights, flicking through the pictures from the aquarium on my camera and scolding myself at being stupid for crying over it.
If I needed any reassurance that the feelings I had towards Harry were completely one sided, and the things that meant a great deal to me were not important to him what so ever, then this was a reaffirming slap in the face.
I've had my days where I've been furious, completely livid that he went so far to jeopardise my relationship, that he put so much effort into tempting me into something he knew full well I wouldn't forgive myself for, and done so with not even a shred of guilt or remorse.
I should have taken his words more to heart, when he said guilt and remorse weren't something he felt, but the naive good intentions in me didn't want to believe that could actually be true.
The one question that's been ripping my sanity to shreds is, why?
Why did he claw his way into my life just to walk straight out of it the minute I gave into it.
Just why did he do any of it?
I guess maybe I should just accept that he did actually get what he wanted, the pit in my stomach convincing me that he was only interested in the chase, that my resistance was fun to him, and once he finally realised just how wrapped around his finger he had me he was bored, and just lost interest.
I knew it was all a game, and again my foolish habit of wanting to believe the best in people had me played like a predictable chess piece.
It hasn't helped that things have been so tense between Andy and I, he has been irritated over my solemn mood, for the first week he seemed concerned and caring but that soon turned into irritation and telling me that I needed to get over whatever had me acting like such a baby.
Apparently I was inconveniencing him being so upset all the time, he needed to focus on work and he couldn't do that when I was adding the stress to him by being so depressed.
He was always pointing out I was being selfish for doing this to him. I can't help the change I've noticed in Andy, Harry's words about him planted firm in my brain like an insidious weed.
Maybe the change isn't Andy, maybe it's me.
It only added to the crippling loneliness I felt.
I can't say Harry didn't warn me.
*"This isn't good for you Harry, you could get hurt" I try to reason
The self assured smirk falls from his lips as he closes the space between us, searching his eyes back and forth between my own "I could say that same thing to you Abby, and yet here you are"*
I really only have myself to blame.
God I feel pathetic. I hate that I cared so much, that someone I barely knew consumed me so quickly.
I'm stuck at this dining table, dragging myself over hot coals in my own mind, sitting through another mundane dinner with Andy's parents, straight back into the routine of how we spend most of our Saturday nights.
I feel so discontent with all of it now, the things I once just rolled with the motions of without question now have me feeling restless and bored.
Everything seems so grey in comparison to the violent explosion of colour Harry catapulted into my life.
I push my food around on my plate, that same solemn look on my face I've had for weeks, and I don't think I've heard a word anyone has said tonight.
Everything around me seeming to remind me of Harry, I can't escape him.
The green moonstone pendant hanging around Andy's mothers neck has been glaring at me all night, reminding me of those green eyes that felt like they read my mind.
The smell of the whiskey his father has been sipping on all night, a torturous reminder of the scent that fills my senses when his lips are close to mine.
Even the stupid fucking butterfly painting on the wall is taunting me, filling my mind with images of his carved torso, or the way the butterfly tattoo on his sternum would peak out and tease me from his carelessly unbuttoned dress shirts.
This must be what hell feels like.
Andy places his hand on my knee, gripping my attention, and I look to him, only to be met with annoyed glint in his brown eyes.
He looks to my plate and back to me, and I already know he is irritated I haven't touched my dinner, thinking I'm being rude and insulting by not gushing over the meal his mother prepared.
I don't see why it matters, the maid cooked it, not her.
"It's been a profitable week son, you did a fantastic job with those terms and conditions in our contracts" Andys father praises, his thin lips pulling into a prideful tight smile.
I've always found Andys father intimidating, something about him reminds me of those cut throat politicians you see on the news, his presence can be a bit daunting.
Andy puffs his chest out, straightening his shoulders as he gives his father a firm nod "Thank you sir, our profit margins should almost double with the changes I've made"
A sickly laugh rumbles through his father's chest, as he wipes his round chin with a napkin "It was genius, our clients will be paying higher premiums for less cover and they won't even realise it"
Andy smiles, looking like a proud peacock sat next to me.
I frown, looking to his father "I'm sorry, I don't understand, how is that fair that people will be paying more, thinking they're getting better health insurance when they're getting less?"
Andys fingers dig into my leg, and I wince, whipping my eyes to him to see a smile covering the angry flare in his eyes.
Andys father gives me a patronising smile "Don't worry that pretty head of yours over these things dear, that's Andys job, it's all business, I wouldn't expect you to understand"
I blink at his father, fighting the irritation and offense flooding my chest at being spoken to like I'm some incompetent little girl.
"Sorry" I smile "My mistake, I was just under the impression doing things like that were illegal, not to mention immoral, but what do I know?"
Andy stiffens beside me, grabbing my arm and pulling me to him to lean into my ear "That's enough, just sit there and eat your dinner, and leave the talking to the men dear" he hisses.
I pull my face back, staring at him in disbelief.
The Abby I knew would have just sat there, the Abby I knew wouldn't have even spoken in the first place.
But I guess I just don't know myself any more.
I rip the napkin from my lap, slamming it on the table, pushing my chair back and pulling my arm out of Andys grip as I turn to walk off.
"Where are you going?" Andy asks, completely shocked by my abrupt and out of character behaviour.
"Back to the damn kitchen where I belong apparently" I snap without turning around, pushing the kitchen door open and letting it slam behind me.
I go to my purse on the kitchen counter, digging my phone from it and writing a quick message to Sophie.
To Sophie:
Sent 7.30pm
Are you free tonight? I want to go out. I need a drink. A lot of them.
My phone chimes almost immediately
From Sophie:
Received 7.30pm
Who is this and what have you done with my best friend?
To Sophie:
Sent 7.31pm
She's had enough shit for one day and needs to forget about it
From Sophie:
Received 7.31pm
:( awe babe. Jacob and I are going to placebo at 10pm we can share a cab?
To Sophie:
Sent 7.32pm
I'll see you then x
Before I even have time to process my reckless decision, Andy comes barging through the kitchen door looking absolutely livid.
"What the hell is wrong with you? How could you embarrass me like that?" he snaps, stomping towards me until my back is pressed against the kitchen counter.
"What's wrong with me?" I scoff "Being spoken to like I'm stupid is what's wrong with me"
His face morphes into a look I haven't seen before, something dark and black coming over his eyes.
Andy wraps his hand around my upper arm, digging his fingers so hard into my skin his nails bite into it. "You are going to go back out there right now and apologise, do you understand me?" he hisses.
I glare at him, only feeling more furious "No"
His eyes narrow into slits, his jaw ticking in anger "What did you just say?"
"I said no" I repeat, raising my brows at him.
He pinches his fingers harder against my skin, squeezing his hand and I wince at the pain "Get your ass out there now Abby and apologise for humiliating me like that" he seethes
I jerk my arm roughly away from him, hissing as his nails break my skin as they scratch across it as I pull it from his vice grip.
"Fuck you" I growl at him through my teeth.
I feel like what happens next all goes in slow motion, Andy bring his hand back and I flinch away from him as he swings it towards me.
I close my eyes preparing for the brunt of the contact, but it never comes.
I squint my eyes open, to find a shocked looking Andy, staring from me and back to his hand only inches from my face.
"Abby..." he whispers in disbelief, regret contorting his whole face.
He brings his hands to cup my face, looking completely guilt ridden and panicked "Sweetheart, look at me, I am so sorry - I would never, I would never hurt you, I don't know what came over me, you have to believe me, I didn't mean it" he stammers, his voice becomes more grief stricken and desperate with each word.
I stare back at him, with my face etched in hurt, my lip trembling from the realisation that he almost hit me.
He smoothes his hands over my cheeks, treating me as if I'm a delicate flower that could disintegrate at any moment "Nothing like that will ever happen again, do you hear me? I would never hurt you sweetheart, I swear, you just made me so angry, I couldn't help it, I don't know what I was thinking, I am so so sorry"
I bring my hands up and pull them away from my face, clearing my throat to compose myself, I can't even look at him right now.
I'm still in shock at what almost happened, it's like my brain can't even process it.
"I'm going" I tell him, watching hurt drown in his eyes."I need to leave"
"For good?" he gulps, his voice wavering with tears threatening his eyes.
"I don't know" I reply trying to be as blunt as possible. I feel almost numb at the moment, like my brain can't cope and has just turned my emotions off completely.
"Okay" he nods, looking to the ground "You need some time, I understand"
I will away the guilt in my chest at how lost and hurt he looks, I don't know why I even remotely feel sorry for him after what just happened.
I grab my bag from the bench, throwing it over my shoulder and push past him to head for the door, my head pounding with a million thoughts hammering around in it.
"Abby?" he pleads softly as I reach the door.
I turn my head to look over my shoulder, to see him staring at me with devastated bloodshot eyes.
"I love you" he croaks, sniffing as he wipes his hands under his eyes.
He looks broken.
I frown, biting onto the inside of my cheek as I watch him.
I can only manage an acknowledging nod, turning my eyes to the ceiling and swallowing the lump in my throat.
I hear a muffled sob as I turn my face away, swinging the door open and walking out, not even acknowledging his parents as I walk as quickly as my feet will take me to the front door.
Once I'm outside, I suck in a deep shakey breath, threading my fingers into the front of my hair.
I need to get away, I need to get away from my own mind. I can't handle all of this, I just need to drown all of this out until I don't even remember my own name.
***
Me @ Andy: