Harry in Greendale//h.s au

Chapter Nine

Winter

She sat alone in her room. Her legs were raised in the air and her hands were tucked behind her frizzy un-brushed hair. The air was different that night. It was thick and stale and full of oxygen she refused to breathe.

Her tan face was paling. Red lips became blue. Raised legs fell limp.

Just as she smiled at the thought of leaving this Earth, her mouth gasped helplessly for air.

It was as soft as skin on silk sheets, as quiet as the girl who sat in the back of class, the world invisible to her and her invisible to the world; it was faster than when her world crashed around her, but she knew it was there.

It was a kiss lost in the wind. A meek whisper among screams.

She had never told anyone of the strange occurrences, not out of fear, but because she had no one who would listen to her.

Her beauty had not yet revealed itself. It was hiding amongst the shadows of bushy eyebrows and tainted skin and cracked lips that were purely for decoration. She had no friends to try and get her to see deeper than the surface. No one to tell her bittersweet lies of how she just couldn't see her own allurement.

Every night she convinced herself that she didn't need any friends. No man. No family.

She was on her own and that was okay. Her daddy was a drunk and didn't know how to love like a father should. Her mumma had disappeared but she swore it was for her own good. Her brother tried to love her good but deep down he knew she wasn't alright--she was sick, both physically and mentally.

Her eyes bore into the sickeningly sweet pink wallpaper, taunting her with everything she was supposed to be: dainty, desirable, thin, perfect.

But she was nothing and so she wanted to be everything.

I flipped through the pages of my journal. It was one of the only possessions they allowed me to take with me upon arrival. At first, it was painfully empty, a reminder of how dull and unfulfilling my life had really been, but slowly it became something: a dark, twisted and cruel something, but something none the less. It was partially fictitious but every word I had written came directly from my heart.

One day I was going to publish my works. The whole world was going to see life through my eyes.

Oh I could just imagine it. A mother frying bacon and eggs in a frilly baby blue dress, peach lipstick hiding her thinning lips and foundation concealing her aging skin, as her devoted husband (who was rushing through food to hurry off to his work) read the newspaper.

"Did you know that girl, Winnie, I think her name was, the one that used to live down the street, was sent to a lunatic asylum?"

The wife would shake her head. "Poor girl. She was so young."

"Poor girl?" the husband would say, exasperated. "Poor girl my ass!"

The wife would widen her eyes in horror, although she had said much, much worse things in her head toward her darling husband. "Don't use such language in this household."

"I will say what I please."

And he would. And she would continue to put up with it.

"Did you look at the article?" she would say, squinting her eyes. Her eyesight was poor but her mother warned her glasses ruined a woman's perfect appearance. "Oh my! Look what it says occurred in her household. What a tragedy. Poor, poor, girl."

The wife would go on with her day, and the husband would go on with his. But she would constantly have my face scorched into the back of her mind, never being able to let go of my misfortunes, because if she hadn't followed her mother's rules, that could have easily been her.

I didn't want sympathy. I just wanted people to listen and understand what it is that I went through, what we went through,  on a daily basis while they ate their medium rare steak and had the pleasure of bathing without someone watching.

The sound of footsteps sent shudders throughout my body. My breathing fastened. Who would be coming into my room at this hour of the morning? I couldn't dare look but I couldn't dare look away. Whatever it was that was going to happen would not break me. I refused to let anyone else hurt me. I was strong.

I needed to be strong.

"Winter," dear Ashton said. "Winter it's okay. It's just me."

I ran into his arms the way I never could with my mother. I clung to him so tight. My arms wrapped around his neck and my legs squeezed against his chest.

"Promise me," I begged. Tears fell from my face and onto his crisp blue uniform. "Promise me, Ash. Please say it."

He nodded. This was routine for him. "I promise."

"And?"

"You already know this, Win," he said, refusing to look into my eyes. "Do I really have to say it every time? It's kind of pat-"

I tilted my head and bit my lip. I was a complete and utter pathetic mess. Every day I promised myself it would change. I would develop the strength to not let everything hurt me. But I was weak. I was weak with and without him.

"Fine," he said. The sleepless nights he had spent worrying about me had finally caught up with him. "I will never, ever, ever, in a thousand years hurt you."

I nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "Thank you."

"You need to go to bed," he said, pulling my hands and legs from his body. "I have to go. My shift ended a while ago. You know how strict she is with leaving when your shift is done."

He placed me on the bed in a strange way. It wasn't forceful or rude, just empty. There was no smile on his lips or a playful touch of his hands. He didn't tuck me in and give me a kiss on the forehead. It was robotic and programmed.

"Goodbye," he said, as he made his way toward the door.

I couldn't sleep with all this vagueness floating through my head.

I sat up, my back straight against the wall, as I licked my lips repetitively. "What happened?"

He turned his back and got the keys out, ready to look me inside these four walls.

"Ashton," I demanded. My hands tugged at the roots of my hair. My head had begun to spin with all the possibilities of what had happened. "Ashton!"

He slowly closed the door behind him.

"Please," I cried. A single tear shed from my eye. "Please, Ash. You promised you would never hurt me. That you wouldn't leave me like everyone else did." I buried my face in my hands. "You lied to me."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Dun dun duuun. What do you think Ashton did? Sorry for the long ass hiatus but here's a chapter for you all to enjoy. I hope you like it. It's really fun to write in Winter's point of view. 

Love you guys xx