The Therapist [h.s]

19

Harry's POV

My phone beeped loudly at 3 am and groggily I grabbed my phone and went to see what they wanted.

It was from Niall, and he had simply sent me the link to a website which I clicked on; I was slightly annoyed that he had woke me up just so I could see some stupid website.

When the page popped up, I read the headline with wide eyes.

HARRY STYLES' THERAPIST DEFENDS THE POP SENSATION

I didn't even need to read the rest of the article to know that I needed to speak to her, we needed to sort things out. Grabbing a jacket, I ran out my house and almost sprinted to my car.

***

I ran up the familiar stairs to her office and I ran inside only to see that everything was placed in boxes. I stood stunned in the doorway, not knowing what to do.

"Its probably not what it looks like," I whispered to myself as I walked further into the room, inspecting what was in the boxes.

I rummaged through her drawers, trying to find a reason for all the madness. I had almost given up when I spotted her notepad where I had watched her write countless notes. Flicking through the pages I came to the last thing she wrote. It was in scribbly handwriting and there were spaces where the ink had become blotchy from a liquid being spilt on it. I read it slowly.

I don't know where else I can write this, I guess this probably isn't the best place. But its the only place. Harry left me today, right after we did something very sacred. I know I shouldn't be so hurt, I know he means it well but I feel like a worthless object. Maybe that's what I am to him- no I can't think that!

I keep getting this thought at the back of my mind that he doesn't feel the same way as I do. Maybe I'm the problem, maybe I'm taking it too seriously. I don't feel like I can tell him this...

"Excuse me sir? What are you doing here?" A voice startled me and I looked up to see a rather plump man wearing a suit.

"I was looking for Camila," I said quietly, cursing myself for leaving the door wide open.

"Well she doesn't work here anymore as you could probably tell," I let my eyes go around the room again, I saw the boxes that littered the floor.

"She would have told me sir, are you sure?" I said in a pleading voice, hoping to hear some good news.

"Camila doesn't know yet, I will inform her tomorrow. It has come to my attention about your relationship with her, Mr Styles. She had violated many of our rules that we have in place. I have to let her go," the man walked away, and I began to run my hands through my hair.

I had made her feel worthless.

I had hurt her.

I had made her lose her job.

I didn't deserve her.