The Real Reed

Chapter 16

The fact that they seem to annoy me,
Doesn't mean that it really bothers me
But,
Do I seem to get and be affected by them?
Does my life go according to how they say it goes?
Am I really a heavy block?
Or a burden, as they say?
Can I stand it as they push me around?
Making a fuss over this
And over that
My real friend is-
There no matter what
But,
Blood
It trickles down my back as I'm stabbed
Stabbed in the back
By who?
Who? I ask myself
And the silence is stirred up
And out it comes, revealing a true identity
Of who she really is.

                                     -PreshyKenna

Harry's POV

I honestly didn't know what I wanted the favor to be, you could say I was getting ahead of myself.

As the seconds tick into minutes and the silence continues to drag on, I start twirling one of the many rings on my fingers, absentmindedly.

"What do you want me to do?" She asks cautiously, not taking her gaze from my ring-cladded fingers as I continue my insistent ring-twirling, occasionally taking off the one on my index finger, only to put it back on and repeat the process .

Isn't that the million-dollar question?

I could literally ask her anything and everything. I have so many questions running through my head that I can't seem to focus on one.

Why is she closed off?
Why doesn't she like to be touched?
What does she think about me and living here?
Why was she so freaked out to see her sister?
Who is she?

I knew I'd be overstepping boundaries when I start to pry, but sometimes curiosity is a bitch.

There were so many missing pieces to put together, and that gnawing feeling of needing to know everything doesn't help the least bit.

You've obviously been hanging out with Gemma too much, My subconscious rolls his eyes.

True. Very true.

But it's not just about wanting to know these things.

I can't explain it, but I want to know everything about her. I want to know her likes, dislikes, her deepest fears; just about everything.

I need every bit of information that can help me build some sort of relationship with her, earn her trust, be there for her and to support her; just to be close to her.

I want to be close to her.

No.

I need to be close to her.

I'm probably going crazy; I'm very sure I'm losing my mind. But I can't help it. I know for a fact that I care about this girl sitting in front of me and I'll do just about anything for her to let me in.

The bags under her eyelids are a clear indication that she's exhausted, and not just physically. She looks drained and I can't begin to imagine all the things that are running through her mind right now.

And something at the back of my mind keeps hammering me, telling me that I have just what she needs.

Something to help her, something to heal her.

But what is it?

I can't shake off this feeling of needing to squeeze her fragile soul into a tight hug.

OK, now I know I'm drunk.

I notice the expectant look she's giving me when I manage to pull myself out of my thoughts. That's when I realize that I've just been staring at her for the last couple of minutes and I haven't exactly answered her question.