Stockholm Syndrome // h.s

chapter eighteen

I have never felt so utterly alone in my entire life. Before I meet Harry I would definitely consider myself alone, but a comfortable alone, an alone that I orchestrated and lived with. But this feeling was much worst than any pain I had ever endured. I finally, finally, tell someone about a piece of my past that I regret so much that it hurts just thinking about it. And look where it got me. 

I feel as though someone took the sharpest knife they would find and stabbed my heart with the weapon then twisted it as to cause even more pain. I have never felt so ashamed of myself before. I thought that Harry would have understood me or even consoled me about my crazed actions. Instead he said absolutely nothing and just sat there while I demolished what ever we had. 

So I left. I took everything I had and left the house that contained many moments of terror, love and hatred. I had to keep reminding my scattered mind that this was the right choice, that Harry had just pretended to be nice and caring towards me, that it was all a part of his master plan to destroy me. But I couldn't help but to think that in those few moments of pure joy, he felt the same as me, that he truly wanted to stay in my presents. After waiting in the room with all my belongs for a while, what hope I had held on to was gone.

I still cared for Harry, regardless of the way he stomped on my fragile heart. The fact that I left him will only help him in the end. Now he could easily go into hiding and never be found to face the punishments set by the authorities. I could now return to my home and have a chance of fixing the tarnished relationship I had with my family, they were all I had left, the only people I could count on. Yet I didn't even know if I could count on my family... My bother seemed to be on my side and to truly care about me, then I wonder why he never visited me? Why he Never sent me even a simple letter for my birthday? For years my ENTIRE family ignored my existence so why should I come crawling back to them after being treated like dirt? 

I carry on down the road, the ever ending road that was surrounded by pure nothingness. I should have felt liberated and free- I had finally escaped my kidnapper!- something I had tried and tried again to achieve with no avail. But I realized that in those last few days I didn't feel forced to stay, I wanted to, I felt safe... 

I hit my head trying to rid away all of my thoughts. I was such a screwed up mess, I had so many issues, so many problems that I hated myself. I thought I was finally over urge to drowned my dreadful soul and to disappear into oblivion but the thoughts keep resurfacing. 

Nobody loves me. 

The world would be a better place without me. 

I'm such a screwed up person that does nothing but ruin other's lives. 

I don't deserve to live.

So I stop my trek and lay down in the middle of the road, the blazing heat taking a toll on my tired and exhausted body as I close my eyes and pray that they will never open again.