Schizophrenic // Harry Styles

Chapter 11

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Chapter 11 – Chloe’s P.O.V.

            Chewing on my bottom lip feverishly, my eyes skittered after each copy being made. After they took over once more last night, I wanted to occupy myself as much as possible. Harry still taking care of me is beyond my surprise, but I’m glad he hasn’t tossed me to the curb… yet. I know its coming; it’s bound to. They don’t like when I get happy, but I haven’t even been happy until Harry came into the picture. It’s something about that boy that I just can’t orient in my jumbled thoughts. He’s so different from everyone else, but it only makes me like him more.

            Harry kept the copy room door open for me this time, but I really don’t think that would’ve stopped them from coming. They come whenever they please, just to pester me and downgrade me further into the hole I’m already buried in. I don’t know how it got this bad, but it’s slowly easing up every day with Harry. Like I said, something about him makes it so easy for me.

            “You look quite focused.”

            I nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the deep voice coming from behind me, the accent being similar to Harry’s but not quite exact. My heart was pounding when I spun around, only to come face-to-face with the boy I met yesterday; Zayn.

            He gave me a warm smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just coming in to fax some finances.”

            As much as I felt I should return the kind smile back at him, I couldn’t bring myself to. I don’t smile often, not unless Harry is around, and I almost feel somewhat possessive over that thought. I don’t want to be sharing any kind of enjoyment unless it’s with Harry. I’ve never been one to hold possession to such amazing things, and I know it’s just the voices making me feel strongly about this feeling. Even when they hate Harry, they make me torture myself by liking him. It’s confusing, I agree, but they seem to find amusement in my lack of sanity.

            Keeping my eyes on the copies as they finished, I began organizing them into the neatest pile I could manage.

            Zayn looked at me with an amused grin. “You like to be organized, yeah?”

            I nodded, not making eye contact as I desperately tried to escape the room. I don’t like being one-on-one with anyone; unless it’s Harry, of course. Being alone with only one other person makes it feel like the walls are closing in on my, my lungs clenching and struggling to comply with each breath I inhale.

            Zayn let out a small sigh, as if he were slightly upset with my lack of speaking. It’s not the first time I’ve upset someone. It’s not the first time I’ve been a disappointment. My life is a disappointment to everyone.

            Feeling a little guilty when Zayn makes eye contact with me, I mustered a smile and he merely returned it. I then skittered out the room, clutching the stack of papers tightly against my chest as I made my way to Harry’s little cubicle. I didn’t like being so exposed, everyone being in one room, but Harry’s presence seemed to ease that large amount of tension and fear inside me. I don’t know how, but he does.

            I stopped dead in my tracks, my lips parting at the sight of Elizabeth speaking with Harry. Her hands were firmly on her hips, his large hand raking through his hair. I’ve come to the conclusion that he does that when he’s stressed or confused. He does it a lot, but I kind of like that habit of his.