D A M A G E D • HS

38

TW: descriptive panic attack,
quick mention of blood

HARRY P.O.V

I freaking the fuck out right now. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to say, and I hate not knowing.

Arlo is shaking, her breathing is extremely jagged and uneven, her eyes are distant, as if she's not here with me right now.

I haven't left the parking lot of Lush yet, I'm too frazzled myself to do anything. It's like I'm frozen in place, trying to get my body to catch up with my mind.

I don't even know what the fuck happened back there. One minute, Arlo and I were having a good time, dancing with each other, the next, Arlo was on top of a girl, beating the living pulp out of her.

I, never in a million years thought Arlo had that much fucking power in her. She might be tiny, but she knows how to fight, especially when she's mad.

I don't like her mad. I don't like when her face is stuck in a glare, I don't like when her hands are curled into fists, I don't like when her chest is heaving up and down, I don't like when she's angry. She doesn't deserve to be mad.

She deserves smiles, laughs, joy, happiness. Back there, Arlo was anything but that.

I should have helped quicker. I shouldn't have stayed frozen in place watching the violence unfold. If I didn't, then some random people she doesn't know wouldn't have touched her, they wouldn't have yelled at her, and she would have felt safe.

I could see that the moment some guys from the crowd came rushing over, attempting to pull her off of the other girl, her fight or flight kicked in. I could see that she felt like she was in danger, like she had to fight for her life.

Only then, did I snap out of my trance, and rush over to help her. Seeing her in full panic mode scared me, pained me even.

It was as if all my senses clicked, and I could finally react to what was happening to her before my eyes. I couldn't even tell you what happened. It's like everything happened in flashes. One flash, I'm watching Arlo freak out, the next flash, I'm hauling Arlo into my chest, and holding onto her for dear life.

I hate that I didn't react faster, I really fucking hate myself for that.

"C-can you please leave, I want to go." Arlo croaks out, her voice cracking from tension. I snap my head towards her. She is looking blankly out in front of her, trying to control her breathing.

"Fuck, shit, yeah, I'm sorry." I panic, quickly throwing my car into reverse, backing out of my parking spot.

I've never been happier for driving to a party in my life. Usually I don't drive because I always plan on getting fucked up, but tonight I made sure I drove, so that I could leave when I wanted to.

I reach my right hand out to blindly grab hers. Once my hand finds hers, she grabs onto mine tightly, for dear life.

Her hands are shaking the slightest bit, which breaks me. I want to know so badly what is going through her head right now.

I know it can't be anything good, but if she would let me, I would sit here, and let her pour her heart out to me.

I've heard that talking about hard shit with someone you trust can be relieving, but I wouldn't know, since I still haven't told her about what has been haunting me for the past five years.

Arlo and I never talk about deep shit now that I think about it, but at the same time, now thinking about it, maybe we do.

I mean the first time we went to Arlo's lookout point, and we shared a joint, we briefly talked about something deep.