Bet On It | H. Styles

xxvix

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I didn't feel like myself anymore.

I laid in bed, staring at my fan, the humming noise of it being the only sound circulating the room.

Yesterday hurt me. So badly.

After I finished crying into Harry's shirt, and apologizing profusely, I made my way back into my room, never leaving. Patty came to check on me on the hour every hour, offered to stay with me, but I just couldn't bare it. I couldn't let myself bring down her high of her wedding being in four days. Albeit, her in-law's already partially did that, but I didn't want to ruin it even more.

Harry never came to check on me. Not that I really care, because that whole. . . two hour moment was just a fluke. It would never happen again. Because truthfully, if he saw me like this, I would break down far more than I already have. And I don't know if there's any coming back from that.

I meant to call Dr. Hill eventually, but anytime I touched my phone this burning sensation – more figurative than literal – coursed through my hand. Probably to tell me that I needed to overcome my problems alone for once. But I had to do it because if I didn't, I would reset to this shell of a person that was a mute and immobile and just miserable.

I didn't even want to watch TV. I just wanted to stare into space forever to collect myself as best as I could. To the point where I would be well enough to put on a good act. I've done it before, I can do it again.

A knock on my door sounded, startling me from my daze. Patty peaked her head inside my room, that pitiful look on her face as she looked at me with sad eyes. I hated that look. But I guess I deserved it, because I was. . . a mess.

"Okay to come in?" She questioned softly. I nodded my head, thinking now would be a good time to start to put my act on. The sooner the better, after all.

Patty gently shut the door behind her, shuffling over to the empty side of the bed. Picking up the covers, she laid beside me, joining me in watching my fan spin round and round. To any person this would seem very strange, potentially delusional; but to us, it was nowhere out of the ordinary. Not when you have me around at least.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, everything, right?" She spoke up, turning her head to look at me. I turned on my side to face her, letting her know she had my attention instead of that fan.

"I know," I said meekly. I wanted to. But I couldn't.

"Whatever it is that has you like this, it seems very serious. And not to be like that bitch or anything, but why the hell does Kenny know and I don't?" She laughed, now turning onto her side.

I let out a small smile but that quickly vanished as I thought over her words. She's my best friend, practically my sister. I felt horrible that Kenny knew and she didn't. But he only knew because of coincidence. "He shouldn't know either."

Patty gave me a confused look, furrowing her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"He only knows because he – I guess had to know. Trust me, Kenny is not more important than you and if I could tell you, I would," I tried to explain, but everything I say just comes out cryptic.

"But why can't you?"

I sighed, my eyes falling shut, "It's too hard."

"Wendy," she trailed off, her hand cupping my face.

"You won't look at me the same. No one will. I'm far more damaged than you know, Patty."

Her heart shattered; I could tell. There wasn't that pitiful look anymore, just a broken one. Her lips parted in shock, her hand falling from my face. Patty just shook her head profusely, denying my statement.