[ hi ] h.s.

▒Chapter Eight▒

▒Chapter Eight▒

Strenuous, not to mention messy, hard work in the greenhouse was concluded when the sun began to balance on the horizon, its sleepy rays staining the cloudless sky an orange-pink.

I decided to take a brief shower to cleanse myself of the soil and whatever else I managed to have spilt on myself.

The water was relaxing and warm and I felt at ease simply thinking of nothing but how my fingers massaged my scalp with lavender shampoo.

I turned the knob off, pulled back the waterproof curtain and wrapped my body in a towel. My bathroom was steamy and hot and I couldn't help relate the intensity of warmth in this room in comparison to the icebox attic.

The attic.

My mind wavered back onto the subject of the eerie room and Harry as I inconveniently stood dripping on the tiled flooring, surely bound to leave a puddle of moisture.

After waking up this morning, I was sure Harry was a dream, something my imagination simply conjured up. But there was still something, possibly hope, that made me wish he was real and that I could unearth his story as to why he was up in there.

It's unorthadox to think someone is simply aboding in my attic however.

Mysteriously, I don't exactly recall how our conversation came to end. I remember us small-talking for a short period of time but then...I can't quite decipher. I woke up this morning to the sound of my dear Grandmothers voice and that's it.

I'd never experienced a dream so vivid and clear before. It felt undeniably real, everything did.

Perhaps my subconsious would be gracious enough to grant me another dream with the ever-intriguing Harry.

I shook my head, readjusting my towel as I walked over to the sink. Hanging on the wall above, a mirror was positioned. It was bronze-rimmed and too gaudy and ostentatious for my taste. It came with the house so I decided to tolerate it until I could be bothered to buy a new one.

The glass was steamed up from the heat of the shower and I instantly thought of the window and how it said, "Hi".

Harry was reposible for this, the boy from my dream but I remember clearly the night I found the message on pane. I was most certinally not dreaming then.

Was I?

No, I wasn't.

And how could I forget about the other times I went up into the attic only to encounter a mysertious doing? From messages appearing to windows, to the rickety door mysteriously closing itself, to lights switching off without aid...something about the attic was not quite plausible and I intended to find out exactly what it was.

I bent over the counter which held sink and pressed my finger to the glass, swiftly writing, "hi". I underscored it twice before literally running out of my bathroom to my room to put on some clothes.

I don't know what exactly pocessed me to write on the mirror but I felt a sense of empowerment and almost determination as I did so. I was going to investigate and discover the truth about that room if it was the last thing I'd ever do.

I threw on some ugly grey sweats and a frumpy oversized hoodie, letting my damp hair just flop down wherever. I grabbed my trusty orange flashlight and made my way to the room next door.

I pulled the string, stairs tumbling down and I immediately crawled up them, torch in hand.

I flicked it on as soon as I entered the room and was greeting be the impending arctic atmosphere, naturally resulting in me to shiver.

The room remained identical to the other times I had visited, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I scanned the entirety of the room with my flashlight before moving towards the infamous window, inspecting it carefully for my analysis.

"Hi"

"Hi"

Followed by an arrow, replicating exactly what I had dreamt.

I flicked my torch to the shaded corner but it was empty, bare of any signs of Harry. He really must have been a dream.

I must have subconsciously wrote the messages on the window myself for there is no evidence of an enchantingly beautiful boy up here whatsoever.

I move towards the empty corner and slide down the wall, feet stretched out in front of me, similar to how Harry had sat.

I rub my eyes and sigh frustratedly, I'd never felt more paranoid or crazy, it was an excruciating feeling.

"So, what?" I ask aloud, "Is my mind playing tricks on me or is this room haunted or something? Because I would feel a lot more mentally secure if someone told me there was a ghost or something responsible for all of this."

I end the momentary silence by laughing to myself.

"A ghost? Wow, I'm loosing my mind" I state nonchalantly.

I could have sworn I was locked in here before, I could have sworn my torch flicked out that time and yet, nothing. Nothing is up here and I've never felt more barbaric and stupid.

"I almost believed there was a boy up here" I almost whisper, "his name was Harry"

I shake my head and rub my temples.

"None of this makes sense" I groan, shutting my eyes from my internal annoyance.

The suffocating silence and lack of response from the room is abruptly ended when the familiar voice I was longing to hear sounds from in front of me.

"Then allow me to explain" he says.

▒Author's note:▒

I've nad a rather rough week which I will put as an excuse to my lack of updating.

Long story short, relationships are hard and boys are assholes.

Well not all of them but please allow my to express my anger haha

This one is kind of short but the next chapter certinally should make up for it

I'm also still in need of a new book cover so If anyone is willing to help out I will love you forever and ever and ever

- em x