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His breath tampered on my neck as he backed me into a corner.
"Look at me." he demands in a disturbingly-menacingly-calm tone.
I couldn't.
He wants to hurt me. He wants me dead.
I felt his paradoxically gentle, soft hand grip my chin...
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Harry Styles
two months ago...Charleston, SC
Half drunk on a bottle of whiskey, I stumble through the halls of this hotel Ricky bought out.
Someone had attempted to stab me at the restaurant just hours ago, and they ended up getting Charlotte in the arm. What a fucking day. And when I thought it couldn't get worse, it did. I argued with Charlotte all over that fucking kiss.
I had to pretend I didn't remember it, that's what was best for both of us.
But that hurt her. And if she didn't hate me before... she definitely did now. The look on her face when I told her I had no memory of the kiss is burned in my mind.
I'm an awful fucking person.
But after losing Krista, the idea of falling for another person terrifies me...and Charlotte makes me feel things that I shouldn't be feeling. It's scary and I hate it.
She took her key and escaped into her hotel room a while ago, and since then I've been drinking.
I know she despises me. I can't blame her though, because I took her from her life.
Every time I ask myself if I regret doing it, I always tell myself I don't. But I'm starting to feel that guilt that I've been trying to suppress ever since I lost Krista. That dark, cloudy feeling that hangs over me and puts an intense weight on my shoulders--I can feel it again.
Getting drunk numbs the guilt. It really numbs everything...including fear.
I walk past my hotel room but I don't go inside it. Instead, my body brings itself four doors down, to room 306.
Charlotte's room.
What am I doing?
I raise my fist and I knock on the wooden door three times.
No, what the fuck am I doing?
"Uh-who is it?" her voice shouts from the other side of the door.
"Who do you think it is?" I reply back, sounding a bit colder than I intended but it was due to the whiskey that was slowly impairing me.
"Um.." she hesitates. "It's open."
I open up her door and stumble inside, gripping the neck of the Jack Daniel's bottle. I see her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at me confused as I give her a grin.
