[Harry]
Lazily, I get up of the bed and take a look at myself in the mirror, staring at my reflection. There stood a heartless boy, or at least that's what they say.
He has tattoos littered all over his body. Piercing on his left brow, on the right corner of the lower lip and on the middle of his tongue.
Stupid curls all over his head, like some bird died in there. He once loved them. He would shampoo them everyday and comb them until they looked per-fect. Then he would give them a final touch by placing a flower crown that would go with his outfit for the day.
Green eyes,that are now dull and lifeless. Once they were the brightest green that shined like emerald. He loved them too. He would always try to pop them by putting on some of Anne's eyeliner and eye shadows.
His face now paler than ever. No single sign of a smile at all. There used to be a time when he wouldn't stop smiling because he was always so happy. His mother made him happy. His friends made him happy. Even when he'd be alone, he would steal some of Anne's make up and sit in front of the mirror. He would look up for those gay make up artists on YouTube and follow their steps until he would find the perfect look. That used to make him happy.
But now, four years later, He hates his hairs, hates his eyes, hates in face,... and his damn life.
He had an amazing reputation at school of being a slut. Yes, a slut. Well, now that's absolutely not a lie. He wasn't always a slut, he just became one. He would hook up with random people at the clubs, even bring them home. But he got a reason for that. Which he would never tell a soul.
Now, that's me! You see the change?
I sigh at my reflection before walking into the bathroom and doing my morning routines. When I'm done, I step out of the bathroom to see my one and only mother standing in the middle of the room. My room.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" I growl at her, to which jumps in horror. After a moment of calming down, she speaks up.
"When are you gonna stop being an ass Harry?" She asks kind of tired.
"When you stop being a Bitch!" I snap. Now, I know that was mean and way too rude but ask me if I care.
She stares at me for a good two minutes and her face moulds into a sad expression.
"Where's my little baby boy, my precious Harry, I want him back." She says sadly.
"He can't come back." I reply coldly.
"Why?" she whispered. Is she for real?! Doesn't she know!?
"Because he is dead! You killed him, Anne and you got the nerves to stand in the middle of my room to ask me this? Don't you remember the day you brutally murdered him? Left him to die, left him to cry, left him to break! He's dead, Anne you are fucking dead for him as well." After screaming at the top of my lungs and letting it out after so long, I was panting for air.
"Fine! I just came to see if your room is presentable. Your friends are coming next week. Maybe one of them will be sharing this room with you." She says a little above whisper, shocked at my outburst.
"I'm not sharing my room with anyone. You invited them to stay here without me knowing... So now it's your look out where they stay." I state coldly without looking at her.
"But... "
"Not my invitation. Not my problem." I say while spraying some deo on my body.
With that she storms out of my room, slamming the door behind her.
I sighed. It's not that I don't love her. I'm just mad at her that she was against me when I thought only she was the one who would support me.
She blamed me when I needed her the most. She called me a name that day and I'm still working hard to prove her right.
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