After the End: Book 4

15. Five Days

Harry's pov

I was stuck again. It had hit me so fast this time, I didn't even really see it coming. I had known things had the potential to get worse, but I'd be lying if I said I totally predicted the heaviness that fully encompassed me within a few hours. I was worried about myself as a flight risk. This was the opposite of a flight risk. I could barely move.

"You have to get up," Phoebe insisted. "Or shower, or eat something. I don't actually care what you do, but it can't be this."

"I know," I replied.

I didn't move to accompany that statement. I was laying in bed, where I'd been since walking off on her the previous day. I didn't think I'd slept, although I couldn't really tell. Things had started getting a bit delirious in my head. It was like having an intensely worrisome concussion. I thought maybe I had one on account of how Ash had hit me, but I didn't have good awareness of that. What I did know was that I felt heavy, and that I was at the start of a budding spiral. I was falling into a dark corner again and I was scared shitless of doing that with Phoebe watching. I understood why Louis cleared out the sharps in the kitchen. It suddenly made a lot of sense to me.

"You can't just say I know," Phoebe argued. "You said that already. You have to actually move."

"Yeah," I agreed.

My voice was tired and soft. It didn't match Phoebe's insistent and concerned edge. She was bordering on hysterical, but she was trying to mute it. We'd been having this conversation for a few hours and she'd started out softly suggesting I get up. Now it was probably nearing noon or later and Phoebe wasn't content with the way I'd seemingly decided to turn to stone. It was actually bothering her quite a bit. I'd been stagnant since coming to bed before it ever even got dark the day prior, so I understood. I was stretching this beyond a reasonable time limit.

"I'll get up," I added after she scowled at me. Louis had probably told her to be persistent in this. He seemed to have covered all the bases.

I didn't look like I was going to get up. I was still lying on my side, and my face was half compressed into a pillow. She was observing from just a foot or so away where she stood over me. It was an amusing deadlock if we looked past how deflated I looked, limply staring up at her. Even that was exhausting.

I was agreeing to everything she was saying. I meant my agreements too. I wasn't trying to mislead her or manipulate her into believing that I was trying to do something that I wasn't. I wanted to sit up. I wanted to get out of bed and eat for her. She was definitely right about the shower. It felt like I hadn't showered in a long time. At least a couple of days had passed. I would probably enjoy that, if I was even capable of enjoying things.

The point was, I completely agreed with Phoebe and I thought that if I agreed out loud then I'd be spurred on to do what she wanted, but it wasn't working. I was just making myself into a liar. That single recognition set off a chain of thought in my brain against my will.

I'm already a liar. This doesn't change anything. I lie all the time to all kinds of people. I lied to everyone about being sober before getting caught. That was a big lie. I lied to Louis when I told him I'd never endanger his kids. I lied to Lux when I told her I'd never touch anyone else.

"Wait, what's wrong?" Phoebe suddenly asked. She crouched lower to be face level with me and observed something in my face intensely.

It took me a minute to realize that the anguish of my inner thoughts had flooded into my facial features. My eyebrows were furrowed. My face was lightly contorted with grief. I tried to push it away but there really wasn't anywhere for it to go when I was in this low place. I was helpless.