Good Intentions

MEGHAN’S POV

I have to gain his trust back or this will go nowhere fast.

I listen as my parents close their door and go to bed. I grab my journal and a marker and the chair and head to Will’s room.
I put the chair next to his bed an he sits up. He’s still mad at me, at all of us.
“I know you’re still mad at me, but I don’t think you will be after what were going to do.”

I get my journal out and open it to the pages filled with the pictures of his tattoos.
“Hold your arm out”
He holds his left arm out and I take the marker and start drawing the tattoos in their place.
“What if they see this?” he says quietly
“It comes off with water easily”
I draw the anchor pretty well on his wrist and push his arm up and start to draw a mermaid on the underside. I do the best I can and laugh a little at how stupid I made it look. When I’m finished he looks at it and makes a face.
“What the hell is that? A fish?” he laughs
“No silly, it’s a mermaid see?”

I turn his arm over and try to draw a Bible and make my way up writing ‘You booze, you loose” with a bottle looking thing. I turn it back over and make a lousy attempt at a rose.

“That’s enough” he looks at what is on there and laughs. “Thank you. What else do you have?”
I show him the other sketches and we look to where they were located. I touch the area if he cant see it.

I show him the pictures of what was on his body and he laughs, “So that was a moth butterfly looking thing.”
He takes the journal from me and looks at the small drawings, touching where they were on his body.

“You need to see these, put your feet up here” He lifts his legs up and he sees the ones on his ankles.
“Why haven’t I noticed these before now?” He touches them and smiles. “Oh and I know about the Brasil one on my hip, or used to be there.”

I sit back and watch him as he tries to take it all in and memorize it.

“Her name is Anne, my mum.” He says sadly. “My sister is Gemma”, he looks to me as if he expects me to say something.
“I’m sure they miss you”
“Why cant I go home? I need to know why I’m here.” He says pleading to me.
“I don’t know” I lie, sort of. I don’t understand why he’s here. I know what I’ve been told but I don’t understand.

“How would you feel in my place? Taken away, with little to no memory of your previous life and as things come to you, you cant tell anyone and it would do no good if you did. I’m stuck here. I wouldn’t know which way to go if I could leave.”

I watch him as slumps back on the pillow in defeat and I start to feel sorry for him.

I pull up the covers from around his feet. “I’m sorry Harry”.
I clutch my mouth as soon as it leaves my lips.

The green in his eyes pierces through me. Faster than I can think he has his hand wrapped in my hair pulling me to him. I all but wince in pain.
“How do you know my name?”
“I cant tell you right now.”
“You can and you will. Spill it.” He says gripping tighter and pulling me closer.
“I cant with out going to my room and making noise. You’re going to have to wait til another night. Please, I promise I’ll tell you. You have to trust me.”

He lets go of my hair as a tear slips out and runs down my cheek. I hold my hand on my head where the hair was pulled.
“I don’t trust you, but its not like I have a choice in the matter. Get out of my room.” He spits quietly at me.

I grab my journal and marker and make my way back to my room to put my journal under my pillow.
I return to his room only to get the chair and put it back at the table. He doesn’t acknowledge I even enter the room.

I get dressed for bed, crying silently. I don’t know if he scared me that’s making me cry or the fact that he no longer trusts me. I touch my head and its still tender.

I lie back on my pillow and wish him gone

Notes