Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Seven.

The traffic downtown on Monday morning was more gruesome than usual. By the time I made it into the police stations parking lot, it was six fifty- five. A bad start to my day. Fucking great.

"Harry." Lily was standing right next to the door as I walked in. She was tacking things to the board that usually held pictures of runaways or missing pets.

"I know I'm late, Lily. I don't need any fucking grief about it," I snapped, plopping down in one of the plastic chairs.

She looked at me confused for a moment before going back to tacking the stack of papers in her hand to the wall. "I was just going to see if maybe you could help me hang these up after you get settled in," she mumbled.

I sighed, standing up and grabbing a few papers from her hand. She stared at me as I hung the first one up, it was for a girl named Emma who had gone missing Friday night.

"Sorry," I told her.

"For what?" She asked as she handed me more tacks.

"Being an ass."

She was silent for awhile. Maybe she wasn't going to accept my apology. Not like I have a fuck anyway, but it surprised me.

"It's alright," she finally said. "I guess it's just who you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked defensively.

She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. From that look alone, I knew that this small discussion had just turned into an argument.

"It means that you're literally a jerk all the time, Harry. You even said so the other night." She shrugged and went right back to tacking the damn papers to the wall. I wanted to smack them out of her hand so badly.

"You act like you're any better. You're the most stuck up person I've ever met in my life." I wanted to push her to the edge. I wanted to see how angry she would get. I wanted to hurt her feelings, maybe then she'd realize that she probably shouldn't mess with me.

"So much for becoming friends," she sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. "If you're doing to act like a baby over every little thing then-"

"You actually thought we could be friends?" I laughed. It wasn't a genuine laugh, it was a laugh that was fake and mean. "I don't want to be your friend, Lily. You have this messed up vision in your head that you can get everyone to like you. You can't. We. Will. Never. Be. Friends."

She looked as if she might cry. Mission accomplished. "You're an evil man, Harry. You're bitter and you're mean. I think you need some serious professional help."

"I don't give a fuck what you think I need," I snapped. Who did she think she was? What a bitch. Anne had forced me into therapy when i was fifteen. There was no fucking way I was doing that again. All she did was sit there and agree with everything I said. It was pointless and I fucking hated it.

"I think you might be bipolar, Harry," she stated. She was fine now and back to talking in her normal, quiet voice. She was completely calm and I was fuming.

"Who fucking asked you?" My hands began to shake, and I got the overwhelming urge to punch something. This urge was the main reason I had been in so many bar fights. Alcohol didn't really mix well with my temper.

"You have all the signs," she squeaked. "My mother had it. I wouldn't suggest if I didn't know."

I covered my ears with my hands. I couldn't hear anymore without flipping out. A police station wasn't the greatest place to lose your temper in. I took deep breaths and counted to ten. I needed to get as far away from Lily as I could.

"Maybe you should stop playing doctor and leave it up to the professionals," I said into her ear. I walked right out of there, not caring at the moment about any of the consequences.

Lily thought I was bipolar? Only crazy people were bipolar. I wasn't fucking crazy. Sure, I had a massive temper, but that shouldn't classify me as a lunatic.

I didn't go anywhere. I sat in the drivers seat of my truck, staring out at the busy street in hopes of calming myself down.

After about twenty minutes of silence, my phone rang, filling the truck with the annoying marimba ringtone. By the time I fished it out of my pocket, the person had given up and and decided to leave a voicemail.

"Harry, I am so so so so sorry. I was angry and I shouldn't have even suggested it. I can see you outside in your truck, please come back in. I'll make sure you don't get into any trouble. Just.... Please." Lily's voice was almost desperate through the phone.

"For Stanford," I said as I climbed out of the truck. The station was nearly empty by now, most of the officers dipping out at exactly eight am.

"I'm so glad you came back. I'm so sorry, Harry. I really am," Lily said as I sat down at my desk.

"I accept your apology, but don't think that means that I'm your fucking friend."