Chapter forty-two

“Harry?” I said, the air felt thin and my volume was minimal. What was he doing here? I thought to myself. But before I could express my surprise, my sheer joy at seeing his lovely face in person, he was shaking his head and turning away. “No,” I whispered, “Harry, wait!” I beckoned, gaining volume as I ran after him, trampling the flowers that spotted the floor. He didn’t stop. He pushed through the heavy doors, into the cool air. April showers were apparent, and neither of us had umbrellas. “Harry!” I yelled, getting frustrated. Why wasn’t he stopping?

“What were you thinking?” He spun around at me. He was irate, his shoulders shaking, running his hands through his hair. His anger startled and shocked me to my core.

I shook my head.

“Harry, you don’t understand, it’s not what it looks like it–”

“Then explain it to me, Sarah!” He said loudly, stepping towards me. His behaviour was erratic, and I unthinkingly took a step back away from him. He laughed one hard laugh without a trace of humour. “You know what it looks like to me? It looks like you’re sleeping around for grades.”

I was flabbergasted.

“No.” Was all I could manage.

“Who are you? I feel like I don’t even know who you are, because the girl I love, she would never do this to me!” He bellowed. That’s when I lost it. Tears, both angry and sorrowful, streamed down my cheeks.

“How dare you,” I breathed, hurt at his accusations. But he didn’t even care that I was offended.

The rain was picking up and, somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled and rumbled, shaking the earth.

Harry ran an anxious hand through his fringe again.

“You know, ever since you got back, there have been reports of you seeing guys.” He stated. I waited for him to say more, to say anything really.

“You better than anybody should know that’s a load of shit.”

“Should I?” He retorted, again stepping towards me, only this time I did not flinch. I stood my ground as we shouted in each other’s faces. “Because I come home to surprise you, and you’re with him?!” He pointed towards the school building.

“You don’t even know what happened!” I screamed over him, but Harry was deaf to it. He’d already made his mind up to be angry; there was nothing I could do.

“I don’t really care, Sarah.” He said, turning and walking away from me.

I stood there for a moment, just watching him leave.

“Harry!” I yelled, and when he didn’t turn around I ran after him. I yanked his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “What do you mean you don’t care? What are you trying to say?” I demanded.

“I don’t know, but I can’t deal with this right now.” He turned to go but I didn’t let him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I asked point blank. He looked my face up and down, leaning in almost as if to kiss me. Rain was drenching our clothes and hair, smearing my already smudged mascara. Despite my anger and hurt, all I wanted was to feel his arms around me. After weeks apart, all I could think of was the taste of his lips, the texture of his hair, the feeling of being pressed tightly against his body. There was a tangible tension between us, filled with angst and rage, neither one winning or losing but rather just existing, making every word, every action more poignant. His lips failed to form words, remaining open, drawing in breath. He finally broke the silence.

“I don’t know.” He repeated. I looked down at my drenched shoes and shivered: disappointed. “But I don’t want to be around you for a while.” He broke away from my hold on his shoulder, hands in his pockets as he stormed away.

As I watched him go, all I could think was: what now?

--

I felt like I couldn’t go home. And after our fight, I didn’t even know where home was. Immediately after our confrontation, I’d gone to the Dean at the University and filed my complaint against Professor McAllister. I didn’t know what good it would do and I didn’t even know if I wanted to continue with the University, but right now all I could think about was Harry. Eventually, without ever consciously giving myself permission to do so, I’d made my way back home. The train, the drive, it was all a blur. When I stepped inside, however, it was evident that someone had been here. On the table where we kept our keys, there was a folded piece of paper with my name on it.

Sarah,

I’d planned to spend the night here with you before flying out tomorrow evening, but I just don’t think I can. I need time to think things through. I don’t know where we stand so don’t ask, in fact, I think that it’s just better if we don’t talk at all for a while. I’m not expecting you to move out. You can stay if you want to… or go. I really don’t care.

Harry

Fucking prick. Sure, maybe he was angry, but now so was I. He didn’t know what had happened, just assumed the worst and didn’t give a shit about the explanation. He didn’t give a shit that I’d been assaulted, that I was a victim. He was so self-centred sometimes. He only saw things from his point of view. I threw the letter to the floor and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I burst through our bedroom door – what would soon just be Harry’s bedroom door – and started packing my things, throwing them in nearby bags. I only took the essentials, eager to be rid of this place. In that moment I was so glad that I hadn’t given up my flat. I trudged downstairs, weighed down by my belongings, and slugged them into my car.

--

Driving back into the city was treacherous. Visibility became increasingly poor as the sun fell and the rain picked up. Twenty miles out, my car ran out of petrol.

“No, no, no, no! Come on!” I urged the little car, stomping on the pedal, trying to bring it back to life, all to no avail. “Shit!” I smacked the steering wheel, so hard that my hand throbbed. I leaned against the window and, for a moment, pretended that I was five years old, and that the raindrops were racing each other to the bottom of my window. But I wasn’t five years old, and the pang in my heart made me painfully aware of this. I became startled, however, when my phone began to ring. Without looking to see who was calling, I answered it.

“Hello?” I said, my head resting in my hands.

“Love, you alright?” Zayn’s worried voice sounded from the phone.

“I’ve been better,” I sighed, pleased to be hearing his voice.

“We’ve just heard from Harry, what the fuck happened?”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it, still in disbelief that things had gone so wrong.

“He doesn’t see that I’m a victim of assault, but rather wants to believe that I’m a cheating slut, willing to sleep around for marks.”

“Babe, what do you mean assault? Are you in trouble?” Zayn asked frantically.

“No,” I said, devoid of emotion, “I’m fine. I’ve actually run out of petrol, I’m fifteen minutes outside of London, so I’m going to let you go.”

“Don’t leave the car, I’m going to call a friend of mine, he’s got a towing company. I don’t trust just anyone to help you.”

I smiled.

“That’s sweet, but I’ll be fine.” I told him.

“Nevertheless, he’ll be there.” I heard him chuckle. “You sure I can’t keep you on the line for a bit, have a proper chat?” He asked, but I could tell that he was just worried and anxious which made me even more worried and anxious.

“No, thanks Zayn, but I’ve had a shitty day and I just need to think it through.”

“Alright, take care, Ben will be there soon! Love you, we all do, you know that.” He said.

I sighed, my eyes drifting closed as pain struck at my heart again.

“I don’t think all of you do anymore.” And without another word I hung up.

Notes

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