resurrect | h.s

party thirty seven

Harry Styles

It's been a month since we moved into the cabin. We've been adjusting pretty nicely considering the circumstances.

The guys all know about the pregnancy, and Eliza found out shortly after they did. She was ecstatic. She keeps saying that our kids will be best friends.

It hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows, however. Recently, there's been something happening with me. With my mind.

My visit with my mother made me question a lot.

She and my father were both bad people. I was raised by two of the most hateful human beings on the planet.

So what makes me any different?

I have both my father's and mother's dna inside of me. I'm their blood.

I used to think that having people scared of me was a good thing. I thought it meant that I had power. Then Lydia came along and made me realize that I want to protect her. I want to be a good person.

But how can a gangster...a gang leader...like me possibly be a good person?

I've been lying to Lydia, too. I've told her all this time that I'm ready to be a father.

Truth is, I'm not.

I'm not capable of fathering a child, especially when the only form of parenting and discipline that I know is abuse.

I'm not saying that'll be the way I parent. But I can't help but fear that I'll be a terrible father just like mine was.

Lydia's baby deserves more.

It's been taking a toll on my mental health, which wasn't too great to begin with.

I want to get high so bad.

I want to take a handful of pills and swallow them. I want to dump cocaine on the bathroom counter and snort the white powder up my nose until I feel nothing.

But I'm holding back. For her.

If she weren't here, nothin would stop me. It's always her that keeps me grounded.

I know that if I start getting high, Lydia's going to hate me. Rightfully so.

To replace the need to use hard drugs...I've been smoking weed with the guys regularly. Lydia doesn't mind when I do it. She just doesn't want me to do it around her. The guys and I will go out in the backyard, sit on the deck, contemplate our lives up to this point and pass around joints and drink beers.

It relaxed me for the time being, but I want more.

I want to escape to some euphoric state, even just for a minute. I've been finding more alternative ways to do so instead of drugs.

Sex.

Lydia and I have so much sex.

Shower.

Bed.

Couch.

We even did it on the kitchen counter one time when everyone was sleeping.

It's safe to say that the feeling never gets old. It might only last for less than a minute, but it's less than a minute of pure bliss.

Lydia loves it. Her hormones are up and down, and most of the time she's super horny. She practically throws herself at me. Not that I'm complaining.