Evelyn Brown, a twenty-seven year old trying to get her foot in the door to establish her dream as a photographer. Her mind is plagued by the ghosts of her past - consumed with the reminders of her sins.
Everyday is a constant battle, until she mee...
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I jolt awake with the sound of a harsh gasp, only it wasn't my own. I whip my head to the side, panic overriding me as I watch Harry covered in sweat, breathing heavily with tears streaming down his face, staring into the darkness.
My heart drops, and I sit up straight. "Harry?-"
I shuffle over to him, placing a hand on his chest. "Harry, baby. Look at me." I run my hand up to his jaw, cupping his face slightly to turn him to face me.
Fear fills his eyes, his body trembling. As he makes eye contact with me, clarity seems to overcome his features, and he lets out a small sigh of relief. "You're okay?" His shaky voice seems so quiet, even in the dead of night, but I nod.
"I'm okay." I smile slightly, brushing my thumb along his wet cheeks. His breathing begins to calm down, and he nods. "You're okay." He breathes out, placing his hand over my own on his face, so light that I can barely feel his touch.
After a few minutes of calming him down, he closes his eyes briefly. "What... um.." He mumbles sleepily, "What time is it?"
I lean over him, tapping his phone. I lay back down with my head on his chest, not taking any notice of the thin layer of sweat covering it. His fast heart rate still drums in my ears, so I trace patterns on his chest with my nails gently to try and calm him more. "Four in the morning."
He sighs heavily, lifting his hand up again to rub his face before placing it on his stomach. "I'm sorry." He mumbles again.
"Don't apologise. Did you have a nightmare?" I whisper, only to be met with silence. I take that as an answer in itself, trying to keep my eyes open.
"What was it about? Did you want to talk about it?"
He hums softly, his other arm wrapping around my back and tracing small patterns up and down my spine. "I'll be alright. Get some sleep Lyn." He leans forward, placing a soft kiss to my head.
"Are you sure?" I yawn softly, his heart rate beginning to calm down.
"Of course, go back to sleep." His soft voice calms me down enough for me to almost instantly drifting back to sleep.
—
Both Harry and I stand at the door of the bathroom, neither of us making another move to open the door. Its been nearly three days since I've showered, and Harry has been the same. Whilst both of us stand in silence, we realise no words are needed to show how one another is feeling.
Both of us went through something traumatic three days ago, and even though we put smiles on our faces and avoid the questions we desperately want to ask one another, or refuse to give the answers we definitely want to say, we are here. We are still here together, even if we are struggling silently beside one another.
Unfortunately, we both smell. Three days of not showering really does catch up with you, especially when unpacking an apartments worth of stuff.
Its weird, seeing someone else struggle with your issue. It doesn't make a difference to you, it's your issue. But then when you see the person you love struggle with it, it hits home.
