I sighed loudly pushing the thoughts and memories of back home to the back of my mind. I push myself up off the bed and decide to do something to keep myself busy.
I tidy up the small mess I've accumulated overnight somehow in my room. I had clothes scattered across the floor, I placed everything back in their rightful place before heading towards the stairs. When i reaches the bottom, the living room was spotless. Harry clearly is a very neat person.
I walked over the kitchen and noticed a couple dishes lying around. I decided to clean them to try and keep myself from dying of boredom. Once they're finished, I stand in the threshold of the living room again and stare at the clean modern space. There's nothing much left to do, I honestly expected his house to be somewhat trashed, but clearly I'm wrong. I decided to sit down for a while and watch some tv to help distract my mind from the thoughts of home. Home, the place I miss most right now.
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I've been at Harrys house for about a month now. Nothing has changed. Everything has moved smoothly for Harry. No one is out looking for us, we haven't had to move to another place again. Harry is constantly working from either his office downstairs or he's out and about doing God knows what. I haven't seen much of his face or any of his friends. I see Harry about once a day, and it's him asking if I made dinner.
Harry has me doing chores now, and one of them is making dinner. As annoyed as I was when he told me this, I'm kind of happy because it gives me something to do. I haven't left this house in 29 days. Harry won't let me leave, he won't take me with him anywhere. I don't know if it's because of what happened that day at breakfast, or if he knows I was eavesdropping on that conversation he was having behind his closed bedroom door. I'm not sure what it is.
But staying in this house is driving me mad. I feel like one of those housewives that do nothing but cook and clean all day so that the working husband doesn't come home and throws a fit when he sees there's no dinner on the table. That happened once with Harry. He broke half the dishes and decor that were laying around in his kitchen; and from that day forward, I made sure dinner was ready and on the table by 5:30.
On top of that, the house needs to be completely spotless. For a man that's never home, his house looks like a tornado had ran through it. When we first got here, it was usually always clean with the occasional article of clothing lying around somewhere. But I guess after he settled in and became more comfortable, the house looks awful almost everyday.
Over night is usually when he has people over. It's obnoxious. I'd be up in my room trying to sleep and it can be two in the morning, but it'll sound like he's throwing a party. When I come down the next morning, there's empty liquor and beer bottles lying around, the floors would be sticky from someone spilling there drinks and sometimes I'd find someone knocked out on the side of the couch.
