Chapter 2

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I met Maria in the parking lot and she glanced down at my dress and raised an eyebrow. "I see why Harry writes his songs about you now. That's different." she chuckles and I frown even further at the mention of his name. It still hurts. "I used to work with him in the studios and I'd be stuck in these every damn day." I mutter and she just keeps quiet as I get in the car. 

The moment we stepped in the fraternity house, the instant reminder of what made me catch Harry in the middle of sinful murder returned. The smell of pot, sweat, and alcohol. The first time I smelt it, the atmosphere was too much, if I would've stayed, I would have never met Harry. I wouldn't constantly be living in the memory of what it was like to be with him everyday, watched him change before my very eyes, and grow to let him be the love of my life. Now I'm stuck with that. I hated him at first but now I wish I would have argued a little less with him, and loved him a little more. 

I felt  a slight sting at the back of my eyes and searched for a bar or a table with cups. "Where's the drinks?" I ask Maria and she laughs, tugging my arm. "I like the way you think." she says and I shrug. "I don't know why." I mutter back though she couldn't hear me over the music. 

She opened the fridge and dug out a full bottle of vodka. I took it and popped the lid off, tipping it up to let the burning down my throat take over my senses. I haven't drank since I turned, but tonight my goal was to drink away the memories, drink away the sight of him out of my mind, drink away the little things I miss like, the way he held me, or kissed me in the morning and night, and cooked for me, and.... I'm losing my mind. I sit on the counter and gulp most of it down as fast as I could while she grabs another bottle for herself. "I never pictured you as the drinking type." she comments and I shrug, looking at the glass bottle. "I blame Harry." I say darkly and she leans on the counter next to me. 

"I used to be a good person once, believe it or not. I used to be nice to people, I never drank. I had good grades, never wore makeup or did my hair up. I never got into trouble or anything." I take another few big swallows. "I actually met him after my first frat party. I never partied and lasted 20 minutes at that party and tried to walk home. Then I ran into him." I recall, picturing everything in my head all over again. It only seemed a little more clearer than I wanted it to be so I drank some more. 

"You're a good person." she says and hops up on the counter. She had barely made it down to the quarter mark on her bottle, I was half down already and feeling swirly. I shake my head. "No. He ruined me. That's the reality I've come to face. I just want to move on with my career. If I work hard enough, I don't remember him as much." I lie to myself.

"You've been here almost 4 months, Caroline. I knew your depression was for something just didn't know what. It's obvious your still holding onto him." she says and my hands start to get a little shaky. She's right. I do still hold on. That's always been my problem through life. 

"I live in a damn apartment that he put me in, I drive a car he put me in, I go to a school that he put me in. I'm surrounded by him! Where the hell do I turn? It's fucking pathetic." I tip the bottle up again and finish it. I keep the empty bottle in my hand and stare at it for amusement. 

"He just... he just dumped me here and expected me to forget him like nothing. No calls, no warning, just cut me off completely. He said I knew it wouldn't work." I step off the counter and pace in front of her, my head swayed. "Why is everything taken away from me when I get close to it? What did I ever do that's so bad? What was so hard for him to just shut up and love me back?" I start to cry and my heart rate started to grow more erratic. My breathing got heavy and I started getting sweaty. 

"He said he did love you... over public radio."  she reminds me and I flinch and dig my nails into my scalp. "Yeah, he told everyone else he loves me but he could never say it to my face. Whenever I'm around, he could never say it. Why am I such a fuck up?" I shout and stop as my hands fisted up. "I need to punch something." I say and she grows a little anxious and weary. "Okay, okay. Take it easy. Let's just go out back." she says tugging my wrist and I follow. Only a few people were out back and I chuck the bottle at a tree, pretending it's Harry. I was yelling something but wasn't aware of what exactly I was saying. I think I was repeating "Why?" as I slammed my fist into it several times until I felt a sharp pinch in my hand and then I sun to the ground. I've held it all in this time and now it's coming out. 

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