𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.
"Y-you want to kill me?"
"No, I want to ruin you."
Death Hood.
A cloaked serial killer that leaves behind blood trails, corpses with the same cause of death and nightma...
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It takes four painkillers.
Four painkillers to make the pain that aches my body stay quiet for longer than ten minutes.
After I showered, I didn't think too much into it and I got a bath ready. Sinking my body in the water, leaning my head back, I felt so relaxed. My body feels so relaxed, but my mind? Definitely not.
I cried in the bathtub and when I was done with my bath and stood in front of the mirror, I cried some more. When I thought I had stopped crying for the second time, I changed into comfy pyjamas and the moment I settled on the middle of my bed, more tears leaked without realizing it at first.
I hate being so emotional. In fact, it's one of the things I worked on when I left my home town for college a few years ago. It's like Harry erased so much progress I've made with myself ever since I paid so much attention to Death Hood. Being emotional, learning how to fight back, ignoring not legal temptations- all of that progress and growth was for nothing.
I can't blame Harry completely even though I wish I could. I really wish I could. I'd love it if somehow I hear the thoughts running through his head, and learn why he's doing what he is.
My brain hurts while I think of strategies to get myself out of this mess but I've soon realised that it's not something I'm going to come up with overnight. It makes me think that Harry didn't come up with his plan overnight but he had because there's no other explanation.
Why me though? The past ten years of my life, it's been an insane rollercoaster and the last few years finally felt like I had my life under control. Not anymore. I thought it was because Harry was in my life, he kept everything sane and when he was gone- chaos happened. Now he's back and the chaos that I locked away for a few years has also returned.
Now I've realised that I'm going to have to change the way I see Harry. I can't keep referring him to 'my Harry' and 'this Harry.' They're different but no matter what, they're still the same person so I can't continue to differentiate them.
Part of me feels broken now that I no longer have the hope of randomly running into him at the grocery or cafe and we reunite, returning to being best friends and using every day to catch up on all the years we lost. Yes, I believed that one day we'd find our way back to each other and everything would be okay.
This is not okay.
The same hand that choked me yesterday in my own home was the same hand that killed over five people. It's also the same pair of hands that would cuddle me to sleep, wipe my tears and hold mine when either of us was scared. That was then and this is now, Esrin.
