Twisted Minds [h.s]

F I F T Y E I G H T

Birds chirping and tree branches rustling.

Cars driving far in the distance.

Hot, blistering sun melting my skin, feeling like wax dripping off a melted candle, coating my fragile body.

As soon as my consciousness sets back in, I listen to my surroundings, and it only takes a few moments before I remember everything that took place last night.

My eyes struggle to open, but once they do — all I'm met with is the same side of the road that I passed out on.

He never saw me.

I feel my heart physically ache in my chest.

How did he not see me? He would've had to drive past me to get back home?

Did he.. drive past on purpose?

No. He wouldn't.

... But maybe he would?

I exhale deeply and move my arms under myself to push my body upwards

- and instantly regret it.

I let out a painful groan as all the scrapes, cuts and bruises that cover my body, all start to burn and sting at once.

Fucking fantastic.

I tuck my bottom lip under my teeth and bite down before I use every ounce of strength I have within me, to finally push me up to a sitting upright position.

I slowly lean forward and roll up my dirt stained pyjama pants on both of my legs.

"Fuck." I cry out in complete agony as I look down at my sprawled out legs, with the hot sun now beaming down on them.

They're covered in dirt and tiny rocks have stuck themselves to my now dried and bloodied cuts and scrapes. And if there isn't a cut or scrape in a spot - then it's a deep and dark, purple bruise.

You can't see one inch of my normal skin.

I pull up my sleeves and see my arms basically in the same shape.

Fuck, I must've fell out of that van pretty goddamn hard.

It takes a long, few minutes to be able to push myself onto my aching legs to stand up.

And once I do, the pain is absolutely indescribable.

My breaths are shaky as I brush off dirt from my pyjamas.

I slowly make my way down the road to the bridge. My barefeet burn with every step as I walk on the sun soaked road.

A small whimper leaves my mouth as I stumble and almost completely lose my balance.

I need Harry right now. So fucking badly.

As I approach the same spot last nights events took place, I exhale deeply. The road is empty, with Harry's car gone and the van, probably sunken to the bottom of the other side of the stream by now.

I shut my eyes and press my lips in a thin line.

How did this happen to me?

I should've just fucking stayed in Harry's bed, and maybe right now I would be in the kitchen with him, drinking coffee and talking shit.

But no. I'm on the side of the road, alone, looking like a piece of roadkill.

I slowly open my eyes once more, and the first thing I notice is something on the road, only a metre or two in front of me.

I stumble over to said object, bending down and picking it up in my hands with delicacy.

It's Harry's gun.