Demented ➳ h.s [Editing Starting Soon]

CHARLOTTE’S POV
FRIDAY

“Why?” I sat there alongside Harry with my knees supporting my elbows, on top of the table. It was a fairly vague question and I’m not sure he completely knew how to answer it (which is a first).

“Depends on what you’re referring to. I don’t know if you mean why I believe you’re one of the most amazing people in the world or why people fail to realize that no one is perfect,” he let a cigarette hang out of the corner of his pink lips for the longest; he never lit it. He just allowed it to sit there and take up space. Unnecessary space. “If you mean why I believe you’re fascinating, I’ll explain to you,” he stole the cigarette from his mouth and looked at me.

He never said a word, “Well, go ahead.”

A chuckle was short-lived in his throat but nonetheless cleared the air, “That’s why. Because you’re patient, you wait although you’d rather not. You drive yourself to do things no one would ever do in a million years. Such as risk their job to get someone else out of a mental asylum. You’re more of a genius than the word could possibly describe and your beauty will be forever more than radiant. You are a work of art, Charlotte, you really are,” he looked into my eyes for a minute and smiled for that amount of time. “That is, unless you wanted me to explain the latter to you.”

“No,” I replied, “that’s what I was looking for.” He picked his book up to read, “Read to me,” I requested.

Harry nodded and opened the corner to the next page from fifty-five and recited the words on the pages:

“Her lips looked and felt of the finest silk imaginable. Although I knew I should not even consider touching her, the redness of her lipstick was staining my brain and clotting my heart. She was a drug; heroine. The heroine I needed to live off of. Without her, I felt weak; non existent. Like everything else had been sucked from my frail body and my life was devoted to making sure her everything would become mine. The way her curls ran a trail down her back and her scent left a fog in my brain; that’d be mine.”

Harry stopped reading and looked over at me, “Lunch is over.” He told me and got up, waiting for me to take him to session. “I never remembered where the room was,” he was a good liar, unlike Louis. I knew he just wanted to walk with me to the room, and I didn’t mind a bit.

We walked fairly close but not too close and I took my seat at the desk, Harry locking the door behind him for the first time. “Continue,” I said, ignoring the charts over in the corner.

Air released through his nose and he picked the book from his pocket and continued:

“Her name shouldn’t be spoken with vain or anger, only bliss and admiration. She deserves that much. You know your relationship is toxic when you start to enjoy the fights at early hours of the morning and the angry sexual contact in the dead of night. Or when you don’t mind her coming home at night stumbling and drunk off her own pity when she used to be tucked tightly into your arms. Or when you no longer see her face on every woman; you see women you’d want to rather be with. That’s how you know it’s all over. When her face and her voice soon become poison to your ears to the point you’d rather listen to the shrieking cries of thousands of infants than to listen to her nagging. And when you tell yourself that you’re a bad boyfriend and she’s a bad girlfriend, that you’re meant to be. That’s definitely when it’s over. What’s hard to decipher in life is when she’s slipping, you’re losing her, or exactly when you’ve lost her. Because that’s when the heroine is gone; when the high you once had is gone, and so are you.”

Harry stopped and folded the corner of the page. His reading voice was beautiful and sexy all at once. It was pure treasure to find someone like Harry. He was the jackpot, in a way. And all mine… in a way. Technically, he can’t be anyone else’s because I’m pretty sure once I decide to tell him that Raven is possibly alive, he won’t be the same Harry that’s been calm lately.

He’d lose it for real this time. It’s my job to keep him calm and if not telling him that there’s a slight possibility of his ex-girlfriend being alive, I’ll do that. “Thank you for that, that book is really inspiring. It’s quite extraordinary,” I smiled and he looked at the picture frame of my family and I. We all looked happy, Frankie holding my waist and my mom staying as far away from him as possible. I guess we were almost all happy.

“I just don’t get it,” he seemed to be talking to himself when he spoke. I guess he realized that he wasn’t and decided to speak louder, “How can someone like you come from such a fucked up childhood? You’re too good for that.” I smiled a small one and picked up the picture frame that I used to be sensitive about. “I promise to make the rest beautiful.”

“Hm?”

“The rest; your life. I promise, whether I’m in it or not, I promise to make it the best. No matter what happens.” The time ticked away and my phone went off, session was over again. He looked into my eyes for confirmation, he was serious. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

HARRY’S POV

Images of Charlotte flashed through my brain while I laid down in my room. Her long brown hair felt like it was brushing my arm again and the feeling of eyelashes rested on my cheeks. She was honestly gorgeous in her own way. Not in society’s stereotypical views because she didn’t follow anything society says. Charlotte truly is a masterpiece and I’m glad such an amazing work of art could see me almost on a daily basis.

Charlotte is special, to me and just period. Her way of doing things is amazing in itself and the closest thing I have to perfection is her. She’s perfect, at least close to it. Her body; God, her body is amazing. I hadn’t appreciated the importance of curves before. It never crossed my mind, “Man, that girl has some nice curves,” but once you get the chance to meet Charlotte Huntington, you realize curves are very important. They are one of the most important definition of girls around the world and I’ve learned to love Charlotte’s.

From her feet to her ankles, calves, thighs, to her hips and sides, breasts even. Those curves outline her body yet, the curves on the inside are what matter. The point in having curves on the inside is to make sure there aren’t any jagged edges, obviously. With jagged edges comes bad personalities. She could have been spiteful and judgemental. But she’s not, she’s nice and accepting.

In a sick and twisted way, I’m glad whatever happened to her in her childhood did happen. Because if it hadn’t, she might have been judgemental and never would have accepted me or wanted to get me out of here so bad. She never would have willingly gotten to know me or allow me to read to her. She definitely wouldn’t have allowed me to be so rude to her for days, possibly weeks. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even be here. That makes me think, what if Charlotte wasn’t here? I would be in here for the rest of my life and there wouldn’t be shit I could do. That’s why I’m grateful for her suck-ass childhood. It resulted in both of us being somewhat happy. I hope.

Notes

This chapter wasn't really supposed to go up but I felt bad because I feel like some of you may have thought that Fanfic Friday started tomorrow, which it doesn't. I wanted to clear that up. I probably won't be able to update because of this Spanish test coming up Monday and I fucking hate my Spanish teacher. Like who seriously gives a study guide and checks it the day of the test? What's the point in studying if you're studying the wrong material? She infuriates me. Anyway, I thought I'd put a small #Harlotte chapter in just to get the feels going. Thought it'd be nice.

Love your cute faces, goodbye <3