The Beacon [h.s]

50

Harry Styles

"220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225..."

I've lost count on how many people I've killed.

"...230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235..."

I'm recounting how many people I've killed.

"...250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257."

Letting out an exasperated breath, I've finally come to the final "X" carved into my wall.

"257." I mumble to myself, resting my hands on my hips while my eyes stay glued ahead, assessing the wall I fucking hate.

257. The number repeats in my head. How could I have been so distracted that I forgot the one number that's most important to me? I know what the distraction is, but I'm not letting my mind create a way in which I will avoid this distraction, because honestly, I don't want to avoid it.

Nyla may be my distraction but god, I've recently found myself not wanting to pay attention to anything else but her.

I've officially made this a problem I need to solve quickly, because the second I realized that I had forgotten the number of X's marked on my wall, I almost had a fucking panic attack. I kept going back and forth between 254 and 255, but I couldn't remember the exact number and that's never happened before. Now I know I wasn't even close, which only makes my problem worse.

I realized I was getting in too deep with my distraction when I spoke words I've deemed as feelings no one has ever heard but my mind, which I tend to keep in lock and key. But this morning after my father had called me, asking me to get to work so he could talk to me about something, the blissful feeling I felt while in bed with my distraction was completely wiped away and replaced with the familiar feeling of stress and sky rocketing anxiety.

I wanted to be distracted for a little while longer, which is why I went into that shower, spoke some words I shouldn't have, and stayed in the arms of my distraction, loving the way she distracted me by just a hold of her arms.

We stayed in the shower together, holding each other for a while until I had that sudden realization about my wall. I'm not sure how it came about in my mind, but it did and it snapped my mind back to reality.

I told her I needed to meet my father at work, but had to stop by the penthouse to change clothes. I wasn't lying, but I didn't include my need to also recount the number of X's on the wall in my room, the main reason as to why I keep that room locked at all times, and my biggest fear that someone will find it and see what a horrid person I am.

So no, I didn't mention all that.

Nyla agreed easily like she always does, I've picked up on how she never wants to be an inconvenience, which I'd never think of her now. Hell, I'd change around my whole damn schedule if she wanted me to stay in the guest room with her all day. But she insisted she came to work today, saying how she wanted fresh air and something to do to keep her mind busy. We arranged to meet up at work, the guys will be there too, I didn't get to greet any of them yet since I left before they were awake. I headed straight to the penthouse and got started on recounting my wall.

257. With the number fresh in mind, I decided to put it in writing, that way if my lovely distraction steers my mind away from this for too long and I forget what number I'm at, I could just glance at my other wall and recall the number. Sticking my hand in the back pocket of my jeans, I slip out the thin stack of mini sticky notes I always carry around with me and peel one off. I stick the rest back into my pocket.

Searching around my room for a writing utensil, my eyes freeze on a stray pen on the floor, my feet take me towards it as I bend down to pick it up. Sticking the note onto the wall adjacent to my carved one, I scribble down the number.