lust // h.s.

Part 2|Hate to Love You

{Listen to You & I by One Direction while reading}

Darkness seeped through the crevices between the wispy curtains that hung across my windows and a cool breeze shot across my face, sending shivers down my spine. I kick around the empty bed, and run my fingers across the wrinkled sheets; Harry must have been here.

The thought of him sleeping with me made me want to gag. To be honest, it made me want to hurt him. He really must have some nerve to sleep in my bed, with me, after we'd fought and he'd fucking hit me.

I crammed those thoughts into the back of my mind and fought off the urge while sitting up. Realizing I was halfly naked, oh. So he'd stripped me too? Dick. I stood up a bit unstabably, and walked towards my closet. Pulling open the double doors, I grasp towards a pair of jeans, a Harvard sweatshirt and shut the door while sliding them on before walking out of the bedroom.

Once I'm underneath the door frame, I pause. Seeing a body perched along my couch, Harry's body. My eyes seem to roll to the back of my head at his soft, light breaths and tiny snores. Was it possible for breathing to annoy a person? Even so, Harry had accomplished it.

Shutting the door behind me, I walked into the kitchen and plugged in the coffee maker and began the peppermint coffee that I'd came to live off of during the week. As the coffee brewed I picked up my phone from the spot on the island that I had set it before Harry and I got into it last night; God. That was awful. He'd hit me. Again, and then he slept with me? What the hell was wrong with me?

I open the cupboard to grab myself a mug, while unlocking my phone. A text appears across the screen, From Daniel, 'Are you alright?' another from Austin reading the exact same words that Daniel's text had. Thoughts jumble in my mind quickly, as I ponder among the thought that it was the exact same text.. At the exact same time.

I shake my head, seemingly tossing the thought out of my head and grab a mug from the cupboard. The sweet, blissful, aroma of peppermint wavers across the room as I pour the creamy liquid into my mug. Once it's full, I move towards the terrace door and slip it open before slipping myself out and closing is softly.

I hadn't done much to it since I'd moved here a few months back, coming to think of it five monthes ago and I had done absolutely nothing to it. It was dull, but a dull in which it appeared mystical, or antique. A dull that was old and vintage, but at the same time modern. So now your describing your deck's characteristics now?

I felt like I was going insane as thoughts continued to flood my mind without any sign of mercy. The cars below passed by, people jogged along the trails of central park, men with briefcases walk along the sidewalk's talking- seemingly yelling into their Bluetooth's, and teenagers hustled along the streets with groggy eyes while they made there way to the subway. Everything looked normal, everything was like it always was.

But inside myself, I could feel something brewing. I didn't know what it was. It felt like I'd taken a large pill, dry, with no water and it had gotten stuck in my throat. I wanted to cry. I felt like I had nothing going for me in this world,

My parents gave no sign of caring that there only daughter had moved to New York City alone, and was being stalked by a psychotic stalker named Charlie who was probably watching me at this very moment. Considering the fact that the knock on the door last night had never been answered; at least it'd never been discovered of where the knock had came from, or who had made the knock.

The only person that I felt actually cared about me, at least half of the time, now hated me. I shouldn't have made that remark about Kate, but it just seemed to fit the situation so well. But Harry had loved her, and I had no right to use her as a comeback to piss him off. He just was being so fucking stupid, he followed me home and pestered me about why I was mad- so he had kind of asked for it in a way, but I still felt guilty for last night. Though, it made no sense that I had pity for him after he'd hit me last night. I touched my cheek in rememberence of the slap, and suddenly felt a clash of anger fill my mind as I pulled my hand back slowly.