Demented ➳ h.s [Editing Starting Soon]

I love it when you breathe on me
because it reminds me that I am good enough to share the air you breathe.

I love it when you brush my hair back
because it reminds me that you’d rather see my face.

I love it when you tell me you love me
because it reminds me that it’s true.

I hate it when you argue with me
because it makes me think you no longer care.

I hate it when you get jealous
because it makes me think you don’t trust me.

I hate it when you force me to hate myself
because it makes me think I need someone else to love me.

~ Me


CHARLOTTE’S POV
NEW YEAR’S EVE

Lights flickered throughout the hallways and in the cafeteria where everyone was gathered to watch the ball drop. The TV; that old thing flickered in and out of apparent consciousness. While everyone and their mother watch the ball drop, I stayed secluded in the corner of the room where Harry always sat. A journal in my hand and a pen in the other. The title being: A Six Word Story. I’d thought of many six word stories:

I am here, you are there.

You’re an open book, I’m not.

You love her, I love you.

Why did you leave me alone?

Many of those bounced against my thick skull. Somehow, my body was just now taking everything in. All the way from Grandpa’s death. Sure, I thought about it a lot and all but everything just clouded over me like a storm. You could hear the TV in the distance fighting itself to stay awake so its tired viewers would be able to watch the new year roll in.

The six word stories were somehow my life. “I am here, you are there,” basically referring to Harry who’d seen me take his place and relocated to the other half of the room. “You are an open book, I’m not,” self explanatory. “You love her, I love you,” referring to my ex who Louis referred to as a dick. And the last, I’m not really sure about the last one.

It has its own hidden meaning. So hidden that I don’t even know what it means. I’m not sure if it refers to Grandpa, Liz, Harry or even myself. Footsteps squeaked against the tile and a body bumped into one of the tables. It was Samuel. “Hello, Charlotte.” His forced voice cause me to look up. He looked terrified, I’m not sure of what though.

“Hi, Samuel,” my greeting probably wasn’t pleasant to hear. I’m guessing it was along the lies of depressed and annoyed. But my mood didn’t stop him from awkwardly taking a seat next to me, nearly knocking Harry’s ashtray over that I wouldn’t dare move.

“What’re you writing there?” His head peaked over my shoulder and I quickly shut the book. Sighing, he looked forward at the TV. I could see his eyes look down from the TV up top in the right hand corner and he looked like he was about to die. Literally.

Noting this, I rested my hand on his shoulder. Although that’s against my better judgement to even want to communicate with Samuel- which reminds me of the date I agreed too -I touched his shoulder lightly to get his attention, “Are you okay?” His leg bounced and he became jumpy for some reason.

“Listen, it was nice talking to you Charlotte. I have to go now,” and he scurried off to the hallways. My eyebrows scrunched together, but I looked forward at what he could have been looking at. It was like he’d looked down into Hell and realized he’d rather be good. Speaking of the devil, there was Harry.

His feet kicked back and arms crossed against his chest. A smirk spread across his lips, he’d scared Samuel away. I rolled my eyes at his cocky stature and picked my journal back up. Before I could write anything, I became annoyed with myself. The fact that Harry was staring at me like he was some courageous lion was utterly annoying and a bit asshole-ish.

I walked up to him while slamming my journal down to the table, “We need to talk.” He told me and got up for me to follow him. This is officially the second time I’d followed Harry in my knowing of his existence. Of course, I couldn’t possibly care less about who was watching since no one really was. They were fixated on the flashing and sadly black and white television that continued to die and come back to life. I followed him to the janitor’s closet.

“Talk,” I spoke while crossing my arms. He stood fairly close to me. So close his breath was on my lips that were close to quivering. A hand of his rested behind me and the other locked the door. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights.

“He doesn’t matter.” His sentence was short but showed much more than I thought it could. After locking the door, I felt his right hand go up and down the side of my coat. I tried to pull away from him but I didn’t try too hard. “You and I both know that,” he added to his previous sentence that seemed like it was said forever ago.

“Stay away.” A small laugh echoed in the closet and he put his finger to my lips, shushing me.

“Now, now. We have to be quiet.” His breath got closer in the blackness, indicating he was moving in closer. Chants outside the door told me there was ten seconds until the new year. Then, he shifted his weight on the number ten. Nine, he rested his right hand on my lower back. Eight, seven, six, five, landing his left hand on my cheek. Four, three, two, his breath brushes my lips.

I learned in that moment that one is an amazing and shit number. On one, he leaned into my quivering lips. Mine were chapped and picked and bitten while his were smooth. Smooth being an understatement. They felt like an angel herself had felt his lips before giving me the honor to make contact with them. To me, he was always picking at his lips but I guess now that’s not the case.

On the inside, I was absolutely dying. Probably literally, too. Harry was kissing me. Then I realized I shouldn’t have been tugging my fingers through his hair like I was. Instead, I should be pushing him away and forcing him out of the closet. But no, it was my first New Years kiss in forever. And I wasn’t letting my controlling personality ruin it. “You’re the best way I know to escape this place,” he spoke between breaths. His breath was once again on my lips. It felt nice.

“You’re the best way I know to escape life,” and I kissed him again. I thought of my current state: getting drunk on the idea of Harry being my paradise. More like wasted on that idea. Feet pattered down the hallway, the event was over. Both the outside world’s and our own little world’s.

“I have to go.” He didn’t bother to say goodbye again but instead closed the door quickly behind him and followed the crowd back to his room. I quickly thought of a reason why I would have been in the closet but once I was out, no one was around and I found it pointless to even remember it. I’d taken the extra late shift to basically avoid Celia. I didn’t want to look into the eyes of the dying again.

I’d done it twice before.

She’s not literally dying, as far as I know. But her spirit is dying, I can tell already. She’s emotionally unhealthy. And I couldn’t do it to myself to look at her and know that she could possibly never be the same person again. It was like looking at another Liz. And that’s a bad analogy considering Liz was physically sick and Celia is emotionally sick, but it was true.

Celia has her own drug addiction. The drug being an emotion only she knows of. Hell, I’m a therapist and I barely know what she’s thinking. The only person who could possibly know what she’s thinking is her. And she damn sure isn’t sharing her thoughts with me. I realized this while packing my things up and stuffing my coat that smelled of Harry into my bag. A hand rested on my shoulder. It was Samuel once again. He looked less frightened and seemed at ease now that he didn’t have Harry staring into his soul. “Sorry about earlier, I don’t know what came over me,” he apologised.

I think he knew that I knew what he was really afraid of but neither of us mentioned him. “It’s okay, I was just going home.”

“Oh, can I walk you? It’s pretty late.”

“No, actually. Sorry but I have a car now. No more walking around,” I smiled and continued packing and putting my coat over my shoulders. Preparing for January England weather is fairly hard since it seems to only rain here. But, you don’t want a rain coat because it’d be too cold. So, you just buy a winter coat and hope for the best.

Samuel seemed upset that I had a vehicle now but nodded and bit the inside of his lip, “Well then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tomorrow was Wednesday but couldn’t feel anymore like a Monday.

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed and walked out quite fast. I wasn’t afraid, just anxious. Tonight wasn’t exactly expected, obviously. The events that took place in that closet would hopefully never be spoken of even though I’m positive Harry would want to open his mouth about it tomorrow. What disturbed me more about it being a Wednesday was that I actually had to work.

I honestly dread seeing Harry tomorrow. I don’t want tonight’s events to ruin our toxic… friendship? If you’re crazy enough to even call it that. Harry’s crude. He has a dry humor with a cocky side effect. I have no idea why I find that attractive. The walls I build are tumbling down in a fitting rage that I can’t seem to control, only he can.

I thought a lot of things while driving home, which was very dangerous to do. The thinking part, I mean. Thinking and driving is good because it shows you’re aware. But not thinking about driving and thinking about something like your personal life is dangerous. I somehow didn’t care if I kept driving. I even missed the exit off the highway twice but I eventually found my way home an hour later.

Celia could be heard in the kitchen and I knew she was probably drinking. “Celia?” I called but she didn’t respond. I sighed and shook off my coat, setting my bag down. “Celia are you-” and there she sat. Her back was against the wall in the kitchen and she had a bottle of hard liquor in her hand. Her knees were about a foot or two from her chest and the elbow of her left arm propped on the left knee. The right hand held the vodka and her head hit against the wall. “Celia?” I called her once more.

She looked up at me and responded, her words slurring, “Happy New Year.”

I nearly cried looking at her. Sure, it’s normal for her to be drinking on New Years but not like this. She drinks happily, she’s a happy drunk. Right now, that’s not a happy drunk I’m looking at. It’s one crying for help. Maybe that’s what I never understood. People’s emotions, ironically.

I’d basically isolated Celia for the longest and barely talked to her yet she invited me to live with her when she knew I needed it. That wasn’t kindness. That was love. Love is indescribable in a sense that no one truly knows what love is. People have felt it and thrown it away yet they can’t describe it. Some people say it’s like falling into an abyss of darkness and the only light being the other person.

That is not love.

Ones that have felt love tell the story from the beginning, leaving out the falling in love part. They do this because they have no words to describe what it’s like to fall in love. They can’t pinpoint when exactly they fell in love, they can just tell you everything after that was blurry. And pure bliss. Bliss is all people want, it’s the answer to everything. My mind dragged my spirit back to the real world and Celia on the floor, taking sips of the liquor.

“I love you,” she spoke. “You’re the only person I have left to love and I fucking love you. And I know that one day, you’ll probably forget about me or I’ll forget about you and this day will be nothing but a memory stored in a black hole of our minds that will eventually become shit over time. But regardless of whether you or I die alone, together, talking, or ignoring. I will always love you.”

A tear split into two on her cheek and a tear slid down my cheek too. I grabbed a cup from the cupboard and sat next to her in the same position. Then, I stole the bottle from her and poured my cup full. She knocked her glass bottle with my cup, “To loving each other regardless,” I promised and toasted. There has never been a more perfect New Years for me, ever.

Notes

Been texting and getting mad all day. Even cried a little. Buttttttt, I'm good now and hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I love your cute faces and can't wait for the next chapter. Guys, seriously go read the "It Takes Patience" series by literally the best person in the world, @XOXOH. Here is It Takes Patience, the first book HEREEEEE

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