One and only warning: This book contains religion, catholic guilt, sex addiction, drug abuse, graphic sexual content and heavy violence. Read at your own discretion.
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"I am a priest, Anna. A child of god. You are a temptation," He whispered out, h...
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I was tired.
I don't know when's the last time I felt safe.
But when my ear was flushed against Harry's chest, and I could hear his heart beating from underneath me, I felt invincible.
Truth be told, I don't remember coming home. When I was back in the med room, everything was a blur. I could barely see straight when Harry was in front of me, it was almost like it was an illusion. A hallucination. I had been having those often that day.
But when he touched me, it was clarity. It didn't feel real that he was standing in front of me, but he was. He was there, very much alive and not something my mind had made up.
For that one time, I had thanked God for the angel he sent to rescue me.
I knew that Harry was a man of God, but I would've never thought him to be an angel. Even if he wasn't in its pure form, he was one in human form, and that showed.
I don't know what I deserved to have someone like him in my life, but I was thankful. I didn't want to question it because I was scared that he would leave as quick as he came.
He hadn't left since the day I came home.
I was laying in my bed, curled up and staring at the wall for the millionth time that day. I didn't want to get on my phone. I didn't want to call anyone. I didn't want to get on social media. Gracie had even texted my phone a million times, but Harry had answered those text messages for me. He let her know that I was okay and resting. In my time of being friends with Gracie, I had never ghosted her. We were attached at the hip, even if we were apart. So naturally, I felt terrible that I hadn't texted her back.
I felt like if I moved a single muscle, I was going to spiral back into another panic attack, the third one for the day to be exact, and it was only noon.
Harry had to make some calls, so he had stepped out for a bit.
He told me that Michael died. I think that he wanted rip the band aid off. Either way, I would've been upset. Upset that he didn't give tell me right away, or upset in general on top of everything else that I was going through.
All my friends were dying and I didn't know how to deal with it.
I blamed myself for a small portion of it. I didn't hold the gun to his head and tell him to go to the village, but I did pull the trigger by not trying to save him sooner. When I saw him, he just looked already too far gone; like something was off. Why didn't I try harder? Why didn't I do anything to help him?
