XLI: it kills me

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A few weeks had passed by, those of which were not spent with Harry. Every day was a struggle for me. I was no longer motivated to go to class because frankly, there was nothing to look forward to anymore.

Golias was an absolute bore to listen to, not to mention his previous notions about me automatically put me in his bad books. He was so old in his ways of teaching and his perception of how kids should learn was completely backwards. Harry knew how to teach us properly. Golias did not.

I was shunned by anyone I had ever acquainted with and more. People had made their accusations of me and so on. No doubt in my mind that Cole was the one to blame for this. After he allegedly exposed what had happened with Harry and I, people I didn't even know wrote me off as a Slut, a Whore, and even a 'Grade-Prostitute' which basically meant I was the type to sleep with teachers in return for good grades.

People didn't understand. They just didn't. They didn't see Harry and I in entirety- their minds were so small that all they could make out of our relationship from their perspective was a desperate, slutty girl, and a dirty man. That was not the case. But I could never explain that to someone.

What I thought- What I knew, was that we were both artists. Oscar Wilde once said that an artist is the creator of beautiful things; which is exactly what we were. Not only were we literal artists who created artwork, we created a beautiful love story out of nothing. It was tragic that that was something not everyone could see.

I was alone. More alone than I had ever been before. It was one thing to have crude names being thrown at you, and have people post about it on social media, but it was a whole other thing to not have anyone to go to for comfort.

I didn't have any friends left. Alice had left long ago, Bella and I were no longer friends, meaning she was also a contributor to hating me, and Maddie was gone.

My days had changed. Nobody had my back anymore, not even Harry- and i'm not sure why. Was this fate's way of punishing me? I wasn't sure what I had done wrong. I was always there for everyone, and now that I was in need, nobody was there for me.

I woke up in the morning, brushed my teeth, and went to class. After classes, I went home, stared at the wall, talked to it for a bit, ate some sort of food and then went to bed. That was what my day-to-day life was like now. I no longer tried to dress nicely, I no longer tried to do my makeup. Why? Because either way I would be ridiculed and called a Whore- so why did it matter?

Some days were worse than others. Some days I would put my dignity aside and call Harry's phone a dozen times, hopeful that he would answer- which he never did. Some days I lost all my dignity and would drive to Harry's house and wait on the front step in hopes that he would answer the door so we could fix the mess we had started. That never happened. It never worked out in my favor.

Nothing worked out in my favor anymore.

--

"Hello, you've reached Mr. Harry Styles. I am unavailable to tend to your call, but please leave a message after the tone and I will get back to you as soon as possible."

I ended the call and held my phone to my chest, letting the beads of tears fall onto that instead of Harry's tee.

The window of my room was open, so soft gusts of wind would occasionally blow my hair off my face and cool the tears that wet my cheeks.

I looked up to the ceiling and exhaled deeply. My eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of something just at the corner of my peripheral field of view. I turned around to face the other wall.

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