Demented ➳ h.s [Editing Starting Soon]

CHARLOTTE’S POV
EARLY WEDNESDAY MORNING

The pain is eating me alive. Literally. I can’t eat; looking at food nauseates me. Looking at anything except the inside of my eyelids nauseates me. I threw up once. It feels like days I’ve been this way when it’s barely been a day. Pain is an understatement when it comes to the emotional and physical state I’m in. Betrayed is more of how I feel and I know there are cheating wifes and husbands out there but I feel betrayed.

I spent hours, days, weeks. Wasted. Wasted time, money, and space. Thinking space, that is. Heart space. I allowed Harry to secretly fill the space in my heart after Liz’s OD and Grandpa’s death, I allowed that. Yet, the hole is back and bigger than before. It’s caving in and I can’t stop it. Maybe it was the words—the things he told me to make me feel loved; wanted.

He told me that I was a work of art. If I were, I’d be the one in the back of the storage room. The one with smeared paint and a sneeze stain. The one that was rotting away at the roots with mice gnawing at it. Rats are gnawing at my insides. They’re chipping the snot-filled, smeared paint. That paint being the band-aids, the tape. The tape and bandages that were holding everything together. I was fine before he came.

Entertain me. Give me a reason why everything happening right now is for a reason? If there is a God, why would he cause so much suffering if there’s supposed to be a light at the end of the road? Is that light death? Who wants to wait possibly their whole life to see the light of what could be, what should be? God: one of too much power and doing very little with it.

That’s my definition of that God people speak of.

He’s sickening, sadistic. If he were up there, why wouldn’t he share the hurt and pain millions are enduring? Instead, he is told to be living in the clouds behind the golden gates of the best thing that could happen to you. Death. Honestly, if Heaven should be the best thing to happen to you, wouldn’t death be the best also?

Honestly, death seems like the best solution now. And I’m not thinking this because I’m a lonely broken-hearted girl with no life left and never going to have one ever again, no. I’m thinking this because it’s sadly true. There’s nothing left of this life of mine. The one person I thought could shed some light is a lying murderer.

Maybe I do love Harry. It’s hard to say when love isn’t even able to be processed in your mind as a word of the dictionary. Love seems new to the face of the Earth; the rocky face of the Earth. Down below is probably better than Heaven itself. That’s where love definitely isn’t heard of the the only emotion you could possibly feel is hate. Just hate. Or maybe even nothing at all, that’d be a lot better. Feeling nothing at all is better than feeling any other emotion in the world.

Hell is probably the best place. The devil looking you in the eyes and telling you lies you’ve heard before. Harry being the devil. That’s exactly what he is now that I think about it, the devil. He probably would sadistically laugh whenever I left at the end of the night. What if I was meant to be next? What would stop him from killing me if he was going to put the body in his room anyway? Unless he had no intention of killing someone.

This internal argument I was having with myself was endless. It was sad that it was eight in the morning and I was still awake thinking about this. That is until my phone rang with an unknown number, “Charlotte Huntington,” my voice was less groggy and tear-filled in my head.

“Hello, Ms. Huntington. This is Detective Wallace. Mr. Styles has been arrested and he’s been asking to speak to you for hours since interrogation. Would you like me to tell him you didn’t answer?”

“No,” I quickly agreed, “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” I got the address of the police station and hung up. I arrived in exactly twenty-nine minutes, marching towards the front desk. “Hello, I’m looking for a Detective Wallace.”

“Name and reason.”

“Charlotte Huntington, personal.” The officer showed me the way to the interrogation room where I found Detective Wallace and Harry. Harry’s bags were hanging lower than they’d ever been and I could smell his lack of sleep from here, if that’s possible. Can you smell insomnia?

“You must be Ms. Huntington, welcome. Well I’ll leave you two alone,” and he did. I sat down and pursed my lips.

I bit the inside of my cheek for a moment and Harry didn’t dare look at me. “How could you look me in the eyes and lie?”

“I—”

“Don’t speak, I’m not done. You lied to me, over and over and over again. Did you mean any of it?”

“Well—”

“I said don’t fucking speak!” That was the first time I’d sworn at Harry I believe, “Why? Why would you do this to me?”

“You?! Do you know how selfish you sound right now?!” He was yelling. Harry took a deep breath before starting again, “I’m sitting here with my hands handcuffed to the table and I wronged you? If anyone in this room is crazy, it’s you. I’ve done nothing wrong and I meant everything I’ve ever said to you. Everything. So don’t you dare tell me that I’m a liar.”

“Well then what or who else am I supposed to believe?!”

“Me! You’re supposed to believe me!” I slouched back in my chair and took off my coat. “Charlotte, we’ve done a lot. You’ve done a lot for me. I need you. With everything that’s happened, you didn’t believe it before. Why would you believe it now?” We both knew it was a rhetorical question considering there was plenty of evidence of why I should believe it.

We stayed quiet for a while, a long while. The air was thick, neither of us wanting to say a word. “I still have everything,” I pointed out. He didn’t look up, he didn’t need to for me to know that he was confused, “The evidence. Documents? I still have all of them.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Are we good?”

“I suppose.” We both knew that was a half and half answer. I’d help him but in no way feel better automatically. Even if the pain lasted for around a day and a few hours, it still hurt. Really badly. “I need to go. I have things to do and the police probably want to talk to me. With me being your therapist and all.”

“Lie?”

“There’s no need to.”

Notes

Super late (1:24 AM) update. I'm pretty sure it doesn't count as a double. Whatever... I still have the Spanish test and I haven't even done the review yet. I have a C already (only because her new grading system is shit and she gave me four fucking F's). Parents sent her an email of complaint a few days ago and she still hasn't responded. Like help. Whatever I hate her.. ughhh. Hope you enjoyed the Harlotte heated chapter. Love your cute faces and check out The Resistance by the best: @XOXOH.