Short A/N: Please read the A/N at the end of this and I also suggest reading the last chapter since I've edited it a bit and its been a while. Side Note: Please listen to the song "Our Love Comes Back" by James Blake that I've linked on the side. Just have it on replay, it's very nice and makes you feel some type of way. Enjoy, lovelies.
VIOLET
“A selfish person can still love someone else, can't they? Even when they've hurt them and let them down”
The thought of ever leaving my bed hasn't crossed my mind much. I get up every now and then to head to the loo or maybe grab a cup of tea, but that's been about it. No more, no less.
I can just feel him all over me. Trace. His rough caresses over my breasts or harsh thrusts against me and I just want to drown myself in my mattress. Dad has tried to comfort me but I haven't been able to explain what's wrong. I can't say the words. He says my forehead is on fire and I feel that way. I feel a fire in the pit of my body and not the sultry, sexy kind.
I understand Harry now. I understand that burning desire in me to be dead. I thought I understood before, but I never really did. I feel it, that dead feeling in me. My corpse is just laying here and my mind is somewhere in a desperate, fantasy land.
I sit under the sheets and count how long I can last without breathing. It's a stupid game I play with myself, I guess. About how long would it take for me to stop breathing? Thrashing the blanket off of me, I gasp for air. I want to die, but I'm a coward. A f-cking coward. I want to feel pain, but I'm too cowardly to try. I have felt as if I've experienced the worst of pains. Worst than breaking a bone or slicing your wrists. Those pains heal, mine just sits and constrains me for hours, days.
I know I have to get back to work for Dad, and Burta, and my group patients, and Harry. But all motivation evaporates in seconds when the thought of Trace crosses my mind.
Yesterday, I got myself up and ready (as much as I could, though I looked like I hadn't slept in days). I even drove myself there and it was about five in the afternoon when I arrived. (The desire to go early wasn't the vital thing on my mind, I just felt I shouldn't abandon my group therapy patients. They were the only reason for me to get out of bed that gloomy evening.)
I walked in and caught similar eyes all wondering in my direction. I knew I looked awful, but hadn't anyone seen a sleep deprived human in their life? The elevator had taken me to the teen/young adult section of Whemmington and as the doors opened, I caught Burta's stare. As her mouth widened to say something, I lipped her a small smile and walked my way to the rec room. I looked through the glass window in the double doors and saw everyone sitting in a small circle. Nurse Claudia was already seated and conversed with my patients. I soon saw Harry with folded fingers in is lap and a blank expression, staring at his feet. I knew Harry, I knew he did that when something important was on his mind. But I couldn't stand the sight of him. Claudia had it under control and I didn't belong. The fact I've let him down the past weak for my own selfishness hit me.
I couldn't be here, I had let everyone down.
My feet ran before my mind could, before I could even process the thought of moving. I had my head held low as I passed the pharmacy. I knew Trace would be there and the possibility of seeing him in person made me weak at the knees. I had almost reached the elevator before I felt a hand on my shoulder.
My skin crawled and I jerked away from the disgusting sense of touch.
"Violet! It's just me, Harry." I heard, it sounded faint and muffled. Once I realized it was indeed Harry, the eagerness to leave revolted my urge to stay. I told him I had to go and tried to make my way but he yanked my weak limb his way. The touch was unsatisfying and I yelled at him before eluding his company.
That was the most energy I had used in days.
I headed home, got in the shower, and scrubbed my skin until it was red and bumpy. I couldn't cleanse myself completely even if I bathed in holy water.
+++
You can't deny the real world forever, my conscious said. I knew I needed to get up, I knew I couldn't lay in bed forever, no matter how desperately I convinced myself I could.
I got up and ready, drank coffee and ate cereal, I even let my dad kiss me on the cheek despite my urge to flinch. Soon dragging my overly caffeinated body inside of my own car, I still didn't have any desire to sit alone with Dad for a half hour to work.
My feet lazily switched from clutch, gear, gas, clutch, gear, gas. I sped past the forest I've known most of my life. I know exactly where I used to meet up with Trace when my parents were fighting. I'll always remember getting my first kiss next to the small stream in the middle of all the foliage. I knew the best hidden parts where me and my friends would get drunk or roll a spliff. (Those rebellious secondary school years, I might add.) Even my favorite spots to just sit and read. My teenage life consisted fully of that forest. Whether it was unwinding under a voluminous tree with my favorite book or heated hook ups with cute boys on the forest floor.
I smiled, remembering the simple years no matter how many struggles I thought I had. I wish I could go back to the naive me. Naive and simple, I miss it more than anything.
Truly speaking, I didn't mean to end up at the cemetery. It just kind of... happened. I unconsciously made my way to the grave of the woman that made me who I am today. If she was here, I'm sure she would guide me to the right path.
"I miss you, mum." My finger grazed the top of the polished tombstone. Beloved Mother and Wife. She was more than just two minor titles. She was smart, brave, loving, the only best friend I needed. "I know if you were here, you'd know exactly what to say. Maybe you wouldn't, but I know that you being here would help me figure it out.
Did you feel like I've felt when you died? So shocked and disturbed, offended, crippled even. Or was it way worst for you? I couldn't imagine." I sighed, "I wish you didn't just run away from your problems like that, I'm on my own now. Kind of selfish of you. I need you more than ever, you know?"
+++
My insufficient office is quite the mess. Papers are still scattered across the desks, dust layers everything from the computer screen to my Physiology books. I immediately begin to clean before I overwhelm myself with the chaos in the cramped space. My OCD takes over and soon enough the room is spotless. It's almost nine o'clock and I already want the day to be over. I start the day off with the simple tasks, avoiding the pharmaceutical area, all the while. I put my earphones on and let James Blake hum through the buds. I photocopy papers, type up doctor reports into the system, and highlight the important things to remember in my textbooks.
I want to be the best I can be, better than my mother even. I want to benefit people and I think that would make me feel like less of a burden to everyone. It would help me help myself. And how does anyone expect me to support others without supporting myself, too?
The afternoon creeps by and I casually make my way to the lunch room. My eyes casually roam for that unruly, disarray of curls but I don't find what I'm seeking for. No sign of Harry. I don't know if I should be satisfied that I don't have to face him yet or if I should be concerned as to why he isn't with all the other patients. I catch myself wandering towards his room, out of familiar habit. And I'm about to knock on his door before I realize that its already somewhat open. I saunter inside to find an empty bed and vacant lav. Confusion rushed over me. Has he been released?
I stroll to the front desk where Burta is generally seated. "Hey," I simper.
"Love! I'm so happy you're back." She ran around the counter and wrapped her petite arms around me in a caring embrace. I hugged her back. The first woman that I could touch and hold and know would never dare to hurt me. (I only hoped.) And I stayed strong throughout it, I didn't shed a tear no matter how aggressively the salty water threatened to break free. She let go before enthusiastically grinning at me and placed her wrinkly hands on my stiff shoulders. "It's so nice to see my favorite youngin. I'm happy you're feeling better." She sat back down on her swivel chair. "What can I do you for?"
"Do you know where Harry is?" I sought. She snorted under her breath, shaking her head side to side. "What?"
"It's nothing, but he's probably at the library. Always got a book in his hands, that boy."
"Thanks, Burta. See you around." I praised her. How did I not think of that? I promptly walked to the best part of this whole hospice. Rows of book cases littered the vast area, I scoped a few aisles before I finally saw him. A sleepy Harry sat on the floor with his eyes melted into the book he was reading. He licked his thumb before flipping to the next page and continuing. His emeralds scanned the words he's read before. The Stand by Stephan King. I took a deep breath before approaching him. I felt like I was seeing him for the first time in years. A few days ago, when he saw me, I was a complete mess. Well, I'm still a mess but I'm not as lifeless and deceased looking. That's socially acceptable, right?
I was about two feet away, leaning against the bookcase before I croaked, "I hate Stephen King."
He nonchalantly looked up and smiled small, "I know." He rose to his feet and instantly loomed over me. "It's nice to see you. Do you not hate me so much today?"
Bewilderment struck me. He thinks I hate him? "I don't hate you, why would you think that?"
"It's not important." He leaned down to pick up the book.
"Yes, it is. What made you think that? I know I haven't been here, but-"
"Trace just said some things to get under my skin, I guess." He shrugged. My heart stopped.
"What did he tell you?" I couldn't bare to say his name.
"Nothing, Vi. I have to to go, it's lunch." Harry exhaled, he began to walk away before I grabbed his forearm and gently tugged him back. Goosebumps raised on my skin but I tried to ignore it. Harry looked down at my hand before I quickly let go.
"Tell me... please." I rubbed my arm to settle the insignificant bumps. Harry eyed the healing bruises on my wrists before looking back up at me.
"He just told me that you go home, tell him the things I tell you in confidence, and then f-ck him. That's s'all. Why should I care?" He looked away and I shook my head. No. Harry believes this bullsh-t from Trace. No. No. I shook my head more harshly. I can't hold back the rush of tears anymore. Silent cries from my throat float from my lips and Harry is quick to hold my face in his hands before I bury it in my own. He wipes my blubbering tears from my cheeks. "What did I say wrong?"
"Everything, H-arry. How could you b-elieve him? You're so wrong." I sobbed.
"I'm wrong about what?" He inquired.
"That I tell him things you t-ell me. I would n-ever." He wipes a few more tears. "And that I... slept with him."
"How am I supposed to know when you've been gone for two weeks?" I shoved his hands from my face and then wept into my own.
"You haven't put the pieces together, have you? Harry, he did something awful."
"What do you mean?" My vision was blurry but I could still see the utter confusion on his clueless face.
"I didn't f-ck him, voluntarily by any means." I whimpered as I lifted my shirt high enough for him to see the bruises on my hipbones. And as understanding hit Harry, his arms were already around me as I sobbed more painfully than ever into his shirt, clenching the fabric like the last bit of sanity I tried to hold on to.
A/N: I'm so bad at updating lately and I'm so freaking sorry for that. This chapter isn't my best but I had such a burning urge to update. School has started and I have all honors, AP, extracurricular activities, and sports that I'm juggling. I'm sorry I don't have much time to sit and write. I wish I did, though. I love it when I get in the zone, I'm able to write a whole chapter in hours. But I have a seriously amazing English teacher. I'm going to have him for Creative Writing next year. He's the first teacher that says, "Yes! You can start a sentence with 'because' or 'and'! All your other English teachers are a load of shit!" He's quite the catch.
Goal: 100 votes on this chapter and 200 followers! If I don't reach it, I'll still love you all but if I do I will update in 48 hours or less!!! Comment where you all are from, I want to get to know my lovely readers. Love ya, angels.