The Monster [H.S.]

Chapter 19

Today I was going to finally be sent back to camp. I couldn't wait to feel familiarity. But there was the nagging at the back of my head, and I knew they wouldn't like it. I didn't know how to ask them. It was needless to say that they wouldn't agree on the first word. They were going to fight and riot. But those few who might listen, they were all I needed for a chain reaction, and for everyone to listen. Joseph and Betty Armary were sure to listen. The old couple who lived on the corner shack, and fed daily meals to the kids. They were sure to listen. I was sure of it.

"Come" Harry said as he walked into the room, a towel in his grip.

"Where to?" I asked.

"A shower. Yeah, I know, you can finally wash the rag on your head" he smirked and I shook my head.

"When do you get to wash yours?" I grinned, his dimples deepening as he turned out the door and I followed behind.

"You good about today?" He asked as we walked down the second corridor.

"Why?" I asked sceptically.

"Am I not allowed to ask or some shit?" He snapped.

"It's not what it's why" I snapped back, and he turned suddenly, his eyes gleaming silver, over and over.

My instinct was to step back but I stepped forward so he towered over me but letting him know I would build a bridge. He breathed deeply before he continued down the hall, his shoulders tensing and untensing. I wonder if anyone else has the pleasure of getting Harry so wound up.

"In there" he stopped, opening the door and smacking the towel to my chest.

"Thanks Har" I mocked, stepping onto the wet floor and slamming the door.

As soon as the water hit my skin I was done. The stress and the trauma of the past month or so disintegrated into nothingness. Warmth spread from the top of my head and ran down to my feet. I tilted my head backward with pleasure, letting myself be soaked all over my body. I looked for the bar of soap but could find it nowhere. There was just bottles of liquid everywhere. I thought about Esestry Stylic and how he named the unknown colour pinkille. I picked up the pink bottle, assuming this was what he saw. The bottle read 'shampoo' but I didn't know how to work it. My heart rate began to pick up as I realised I had been tricked. These were probably bottles of acid and God knows what. I hurriedly ran out the shower, wrapping the towel around me and bursting the door open. I saw Harry crouched on the ground, his arms resting on his knees and fingers linked together before he looked up and quickly stood.

"What is this? What are you trying to do? I trusted you!" I screamed.

"What are you on about?" He scoffed.

"What are those bottles?! The 'Pinkille' ones?" I mocked.

"It's shampoo!" He screeched.

"Why is it in those damn bottles?! Are they poisonous?!" I screamed, but he stayed quiet.

He stared at me for a moment, before he began to chuckle. It got louder and louder, before his green eyes were shut tightly, and his white teeth blinded me. Fuck. It was happening again. My heart began to beat faster and and my stomach erupted in a flutter.

"What?" I asked.

He continued to laugh, bending over slightly and clapping his hands together.

"What?" I asked through a small laugh. My father had always told me laughter was the most contagious disease.

"Tell me!" I shouted, laughing as I hit him on the chest with the back of my hand.

"It's just a bottle of shampoo" he cackled "I'm not trying to burn your scalp off" he laughed, and soon my lungs screamed for blood as they squeezed shut as I laughed.

It sounded so silly when Harry said it. If they wanted to kill me it wouldn't be in their shower with a bottle of poison to the scalp. I lunged forward for breath, laughing so hard my stomach began to hurt. My laughter began to die down as I saw Harry look at my exposed flesh that my towel didn't cover and his face turned sour.

"Just get into the shower" he growled, looking down the hall to see if anyone had witnessed us.

Normally I would have come up with some snide remark, but this time I couldn't close the door quick enough. There was a pain in my chest by the way he looked at me. It was like he was disgusted by me. It shouldn't hurt me what he thought of me but it did. I had never bothered about my appearance before, I've never had anyone to impress apart from aspiring soldiers and anywhere to go apart from the battlefield. The way he looked at me made me wish I was pretty. That I was something to marvel at. I dropped the towel and looked in the mirror in front of me. 3 scars that each stretched from one side of my body to the other. Bruises; some purple, some yellow, coated my body. Scratches on my legs and arms, and scars everywhere; one on my forehead that I have always hated the most. But worst of all, the one out of the thousands of scars I have I hate the most, is the one Harry gave me. The one across my stomach under the 2 across my chest. I hated the one on my upper arm from the time he video taped me, and the one on my ankle from the time he cut me. I hated them. They were the ones that will always have scarred me the most. They are the ones that will always make me imperfect no matter how hard I try.

Thankfully the mirror steamed up, every imperfection slowly blurring until finally I was gone. I let the water burn down my skin once more, my dry, dead hair becoming soft again, blood and dirt washing down the drain and the smell of rum and black current surrounded me, the same scent as Harry that I loved so much. As I reached my tattered all in 1 suit I noticed a new one next to it. No blood or tears, or blood or spit, just cleanliness, something I hadn't seen in a while and hadn't realised how much I had missed.

When I opened the door I mentally rolled my eyes at the sight of him. The hurt had been shredded, burned and thrown away, and anger refuelling me.

"I'm done" I said obviously.

He got up from the floor, looking at me but studying me a bit longer this time. He dragged his eyes from my face, to my chest, to my stomach, to my thighs and down to my feet, before he looked at me in the eyes again.

I thought he might say something but he didn't. He just led me back to the room. I sat on the bed, looking down to my feet in boredom and anger, and maybe even still hurt. Harry sat at the other side, facing away from me. It was like our relationship in 1; polar opposites.

I heard rustling behind me but I didn't bother to turn around or even look up, until I saw his feet in front of me. I slowly looked up to find him with no shirt on, and I gasped at the sight.

I turned away, my instincts reminding me he was the devil and I hated him, that I had spent my whole life fighting him, but when he caught my chin and his hand and tilted my face towards his green eyes, nothing could stop me. My eyes dripped down to his abdomen, a defined 6 pack protruding from his skin, but covered in scars. There were few clear areas, scarless areas stretching only about one centimetre apart, criss crossed and seamed together. Fresh cuts ran across his chest and down to his stomach. His shoulders were broad, his muscle like nothing I had seen before. It was as though he was made of steel. His arms overloaded with muscle even though he wasn't contracting them, but they were covered in bruises and cuts. I reached my hand up, my finger touching his stomach before my conscience pulled it back, but he took my hand in his and placed it on top. I ran my hand down his torso, no smooth areas touching my skin. But he radiated warmth. The room was cold but he made me feel warm. I stood from the bed, our faces only centimetres apart as I looked up and down his face, my breathing unsteady as the estranged feeling came back and my heart once again began to beat rapidly.

"For every scar you have, I have 2. Don't let anyone ever tell you they're not worth something." He said in almost a whisper.

My breathing sped up and I felt my head become blurred. I couldn't think straight and no thoughts formed in my head. Suddenly I found his lips getting closer and myself leaning in, and then they joined, his soft, raspberry lips on my cracked, strawberry ones. I closed my eyes slowly, his green orbs fading away as I lost myself. He took the back of my neck into his hand, pulling me deeper into him. His tongue sweeped across my bottom lip before colliding with my own in perfect harmony. Everything else I had ever known vanished and was recanvased as a curly haired boy with green eyes and dimples, and nothing else would ever matter to me.