𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈

THE thing about medication-induced sleep is that it isn't really restful. There's a grogginess that lasts throughout the day, a painful kind of nausea in your stomach when you wake up.

I've gone from sleeping an hour a night to almost twelve hours. I go to bed right after dinner. When Mom asks if I'm okay, a voice that doesn't sound like my own snaps at her.

"You wanted me to sleep, so that's what I'm doing."

I'm getting really good at sleeping.

I wonder if Dr. Sheppard will diagnose me with Borderline Personality Disorder at our next meeting. I can't see things as having gray areas. I either sleep too much or not at all.

The sky won't clear. It's angry and gray and painful. I used to walk at night, at first to the bench but tired of the constant disappointment of finding it empty, I ended up just wandering town, wandering the woods, wandering anywhere. I hoped a truck would run me down, that I'd get mauled by a bear, just something to end this dread. I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't want to go home, I didn't want to walk anymore, and there were no stars to distract me.

So I slept. When you're sleeping, you don't feel lonely or upset or empty.

Sometimes I dream. They mostly involve Imogen Greene and between the dream itself and waking up and remembering it wasn't real, I get a brief moment of happiness. The pain that follows is excruciating.

And it's not like I have any friends to notice how I'm doing anyways. I'll occasionally grab a burger or something with Austin on a Saturday afternoon but he's usually so busy being Mr. Grace Jenkins that his head is somewhere else.

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for him. I am. I spend lunch third-wheeling them because Olivia doesn't sit with us anymore and Grace does make an effort to include me but I can't really be bothered. I'm too preoccupied with staring at the table at the back of the room to participate in whatever it is they're talking about.

Every day Lexi spends her time whispering in Chris' ear and Imogen sits two seats away, head on the table. Her head is always down when I see her, even in class.

I haven't seen her face in weeks.

I miss her more than I've ever missed anyone.

It's agony.

* * *

Austin has mustard on his lip; stuck in the moustache he's trying to grow. It's all I can focus on. The plate of fries in front of me sits untouched. I don't have much of an appetite lately.

"Look, it's Chris," he says suddenly, mouth full of cheeseburger. I glance over my shoulder and sure enough, there he is, all muscle and smiles as he places an order to go.

"Poor guy," Austin says and I scoff. He looks like he's on the top of the fucking world. "I'm serious. It's Lexi's thing. In two months he'll be wishing he never caught her eye."