Carolina [h.s]

twenty six

south carolina
july 1990

***

Harry
//

The dream starts how it always does.

That house that I fucking hate is yellow dimmed and the day is Sunday morning when the kitchen always smelt like bacon and coffee. I'm fifteen again, and everything is as it should be.

Time skips and suddenly the dream switches from happy yellow to dark blues and grays.

We're on the freeway, she's driving and everything is okay. Until it isn't. Glass shatters and my whole world is turned upside down in the matter of seconds.

I hear him before I see him. "You stupid piece of shit kid," His voice is loud and shivers run down my spine from the sound of it.

"You're worthless,"

"You're nothing,"

"It should have been you,"

"I fucking hate you."

His hands are around my neck. I can't breathe. He's beating the shit out of me. I've had bruises on me my whole life.

"Harry," Someone is calling but I can't see where it's coming from. "Harry," it says again and this time it rings from all around me, pulling me out.

I gasp awake, sweating and heart pounding. I take in my surroundings. Where the fuck am I?

"Harry?" Her voice calls and everything comes back to me.

Grey eyes are wide and full of concern. Features are soft and her mouth frowns at me. I don't say anything as I stand up from the mattress. Swallowing the burn in my throat, I throw my shirt over my head.

The familiar motel sign glows through the white sheer curtains and the sun hasn't even come up yet.

It was four a.m. and I realize It's a Wednesday. I run my hand down my face, keeping explanations short.

"I gotta go," I stomp on my dirty converse and grab my keys and wallet.

I don't glance at the girl who covers herself with my sheets, her red-yellow hair is a tangled mess of sleep knots coming down over her shoulders. My heart continues to pound as my actions become rushed.

"It's barely morning, where are you going?" She questions. I don't answer. I continued my movement towards the door.

But the girl who isn't supposed to care rushes out in front of me, blocking the door. I don't meet her eyes. "Move," My voice is clipped. I didn't have time for this.

Her hand touches my stomach and I don't mean to flinch away, but I do. "You don't need them, you know." She says stuff about things she doesn't really understand.