earned it [h.s.]

20.

Genevieve.

"You got tan, escort girl." Carrie's shrill voice rang through the hallway and I let out a sigh, mumbling a curse under my breath while trying to jam my key into the lock and hide away before she waddled her way over to where I was.

The smell of cigarettes and alcohol hanging around her, penetrated my nose as I scrunched it up a little in disgust. It was around three in the afternoon and I was back home in Whitechapel.

The entire day had been a blur and all I really wanted to do was get in bed and cry myself to sleep.

Again.

I turned around and forced Carrie a smile, trying to ignore the way she loudly chewed her gum. Her belly had dropped a little bit and her back seemed to be killing her as she smirked, glancing down at the little suitcase next to me, "Seriously, where'd you go?"

"Just a little trip." I muttered, palming my forehead in fatigue. She breathed out a chuckle, "In the middle of the week? Right. I don't believe you."

"Well, t-"

"It was a sex trip." She smirked, "Wasn't it? Some rich guy fucked you for a few days straight and you made big cash?"

I rolled my eyes, biting my tongue before I started arguing about how very, very wrong she was. There hadn't been sex in any way. I had stayed up all night until I heard Blair and Harry returning to the hotel. All I heard was raised voices and hushed insults as Harry tried to silence Blair because I was sleeping next door.

I wasn't, and I could still hear everything. I heard them arguing about work, about kids, about not communicating, about sex. About me. It almost felt strange to hear Harry referring to me as Sloane instead of Genevieve these days. They didn't say much, but I for sure didn't hear squeaky bedsprings after that. It was silent, dead silent as they laid in bed and I was on the other side of the wall, in my own bed. Surrounded by a few empty bottles from the hotel mini fridge and two stumps of smoked blunts.

When Harry and Blair left and left me alone in the hotel room, I tried my best to cope in healthy ways. I took my dress back off, spent time with my skincare before deciding on a bubble bath in their bathroom. With relaxing music and bubbles around me, I tried to tire myself and calm down.

I couldn't.

By the time I got out of the bath, the water had turned crimson from me pushing my nails so harshly into my palm I broke skin and hurt my fingertips.

So I walked around the room in my bathrobe, singing a little, counting my breaths, counting my steps from one wall to the other, from my bed to theirs, from the door to the balcony window. And then I saw the rolled up joint from earlier and I didn't even think twice before lighting it.

And then another.

Until I was crying in my bed and begging myself to slow down and calm down before I got in a full on panic attack and I didn't have any of my coping mechanisms here. I didn't have Derek for sex, I didn't have my Xanax.

I didn't have Harry.

And when morning came and I was suffering from a comedown, I took yet another shower and only met Blair and Harry when we were supposed to leave for the airport. She tried to be chirpy, Harry kept his eyes low and didn't say a word. The entire time, the three of us were just silent and waiting to get home. I didn't help Harry with his crossword puzzle on the flight back, he didn't offer me his window spot, he didn't give me his jacket when I was shivering in the airplane seat.

"Do you need Parker to drop you off at home?" He had asked when the three of us were in front of the house and Parker was still in the car behind us with the engine running. I had glanced at him over my shoulder and then shook my head to Harry with a polite smile, "No, thank you. I'll take the subway."