Last One Standing
Chapter Thirty Six
*Hannah’s POV*
Last night, I had watched the bloody water run down the drain, taking the last bit of my innocence with it. The water had run cold and my legs had gone numb. My stomach ached, but it might have been the extent of the insides that had been touched. I had crawled out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, letting my hair cascade around my shoulders. I’m pretty sure that I had run out of tears to cry, because, for the moment, I sat, lifeless, on the bathroom floor. My knees were pulled tight to my chest and my body was too numb to react to the cold tub and floor. I stared straight ahead towards the sink and wrapped my arms around myself, not even willing to expose my body to the silence of my apartment. I crawled over to where my dress laid and stood to chuck it in a wad in the sink, filling the sink with water and letting the tattered material soak. I had walked shakily out of the bathroom and used supports all the way to my dresser drawer to get a t shirt and new panties.
I hadn’t slept at all last night. Every time that my eyes closed, his terrorizing smile flooded through my mind. How could he care so little? Every time that sleep attempted to overcome me, the feeling of him inside me knocked down every wall before it was built. Our minds have an illusion of what sex should feel like, but after last night, my mind had no problem with stripping it of all sugar coating. It hurt in my dreams just as it had hurt when I was on the floor of my apartment with him inside of me.
This morning, I lied in bed until the sun was high in the sky, but the air felt no warmer. I decided that I should test my legs. My stomach rumbled, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to eat anything; it was still doing flips and in pain from the flips. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I felt them press against the soft carpet. My toes sunk in and I closed my eyes momentarily. The shag carpet reminded me of the carpet in Harry’s room. My thoughts went dark when I remembered our fight; the one that had caused all of this. Opening my eyes, I tried to stand up. I used the bed to steady myself, as my legs were sorer than the night before, but I felt like I was sturdy enough to move.
I started with going to the bathroom and putting on a fresh t shirt. Half the struggle was getting the other shirt off. I observed the blood stain on the shirt and, with the other entire trauma, had almost forgotten about the knife wound on the side of my right breast. It had stopped bleeding, apparently using my shirt as a bandage, but it still stung. Observing the rest of my body, it could not have been me standing in this mirror. I was stronger than this. This – broken – girl was not me. I was supposed to be independent, capable… strong. Seeing the bruises that covered me was telling a totally different story.
I started with the giant hickey on my neck. I looked away, breathing in harshly as I remembered where his lips had made contact with my neck roughly. I cringed at the thoughts that took a course through my mind and continued observing. I could see definite hand prints from where he had held onto my ribs and there were more on my thighs where he had held me down to finish. I cringed away, quickly focusing on the mirror so that I wouldn’t have to think about it. Inspecting my cheek, there was still a cut there, but it wasn’t nearly as severe as the one on the side of my breast. Turning around, I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me. I couldn’t find an unmarked place on my back. The entirety of it was black, blue and purple. Slowly, I retrieved the first aid kit from beneath the sink and struggled to bend down. I sat on the counter and cleaned my cuts. I hissed, putting disinfectant on the small one on my cheek and I realized how dry my throat was.
When I had both of them covered, leaving the small ones on my hands exposed, I went out the other door and into the kitchen, careful to walk around where it had happened. Scaling the counter for support, I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. It stung running down my throat, but I nearly choked on it when a loud fist pounded on the door. Dropping to the floor, I frantically looked towards the door, almost forgetting whether I had latched the dead bolt or not. Seeing that I had, I relaxed a little until the fist banged on the door once again. My eyes shot open with fear.
“Hannah?!” I let out small sigh of relief, hearing the husky, morning voice from the other side of the door. “What the hell, Hannah?!” My heart sunk as Harry’s raged voice came through the closed door. What was he talking about? “Liam told me that you left me last night.” I still stayed silent as Harry’s voice calmed, but this filled me with worry. I knew better than anyone that this came before the biggest blow of them all when it came to fights with Harry. “He told me who you left with.” I burst into tears; I could hear his words slurring. He probably hadn’t been sober since we started drinking at the club last night. “God Hannah, open the damn door! I can hear you!” he bellowed. I cringed at the loudness of his voice. “You know what?! Fuck you!” My breath hitched in my throat at his harshness. “You’re supposed to be mine, and then you go and screw around on me with Marcus?! You’re a dumb bitch!” I cringed, remembering that these are also words that I had heard the night before. “I came back here to be with you, I came back to take my chances with you, but what the hell am I leaving with?! Nothing! This is it Hannah! You are nothing to me and you’re nothing to everyone!” My sobs became thicker as I let his words penetrate me. “Yeah, you go ahead and cry, but no one cares. Next time you want someone in your life, don’t go and fuck someone else!” If he only knew.
I sat there, leaned against the island for God knows how long, just sobbing into my lap. How could he say those things? Well, of course he could say those things; he had no idea what had happened to me, and he obviously didn’t care to know. He thought he knew what was real, but he didn’t. The worst part is that now, I couldn’t do anything to fix it, change it. I felt my necklace move around my neck and I helplessly reached for it. I looked down at the puzzle piece and the key. ‘His only.’ That no longer was true. I had been someone else’s, even if I didn’t want to be. I pressed both pieces to my lips, wanting to go back in time, wanting to take back what happened and have the opportunity to be in the warmth of Harry’s arms right now.
Sitting there, I waited for the yelling to start again, but it never did. Harry didn’t care about me anymore. When my sobs subsided, I crawled from the floor. My stomach grumbled slightly, but there was nothing that I could think of that I would be able to hold down. Feeling a clenching feeling in my heart, I closed the door and went running for my room, stumbling a few times along the way. Crashing onto my bed, I clenched my hand around my necklace and held it tight, thinking that maybe; just maybe, I could wish him back into my life.
I spent the next few days like that. I would fall asleep for ten hours at a time, my sleep filled with the same nightmares. I would wake up and it would be a new day, yet I was still stuck in the past.
It had been three days since he brought me home. I woke up in the same apartment, in the same clothes, in the same sheets, in the same pain, in the same state of mind that I had been in for the past three days. Bringing myself to a sitting position, I decided that even I could tell that I stunk, so I climbed out of bed and trudged towards the bathroom. Ignoring the sink that was still filled with soaking, red water and my most likely pink party dress, I undressed and crawled into the shower, sitting beneath the steaming water with my knees pulled to my chest.
Later, I sat on my bed, brushing out my still wet hair. I saw the bruises that were still engraved on my wrists from where he had grabbed onto me. The ones on my back were at there worst, as were the ones on my thighs; I could see them looking down at my bare legs (I wasn’t going anywhere, and the only thing that I had had the energy to put on were t shirts and panties). They were turning colors that I didn’t know bruises could turn. The cut on my face wasn’t healing right, because every time that I yawned, I would feel it reopen. It wouldn’t bleed, but it would pinch and then sting until it started to close again; it looked like I was going to have a scar across my right cheek bone.
In the past three days, I had eaten about five saltine crackers and all that I had done was throw them up after about half an hour. I didn’t eat because I wanted to, I ate because I thought that I was going to starve myself to death if I didn’t, and that’s obviously what I needed right now -_- I lounged around my apartment, bringing myself to walk to the couch and slowly plop down. I had the full intentions of coming out here to watch the telly, but I lost all motivation to grab the remote. After about twenty minutes, I had just gone back to my room, sitting on the edge of my bed and pulling my knees tightly to my chest.
There was suddenly a subtle knock on the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I crept around the corner of my door frame and it sounded again. Checking the door from a distance, I saw that the dead bolt was still in place. Why wouldn’t it be? I hadn’t gone anywhere since it happened. Creeping closer, I stood on the balls of my feet, giving me a little extra height to see through the peep hole. I jumped and crumbled backwards onto the floor after I was met with big, brown eyes.
Last night, I had watched the bloody water run down the drain, taking the last bit of my innocence with it. The water had run cold and my legs had gone numb. My stomach ached, but it might have been the extent of the insides that had been touched. I had crawled out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself, letting my hair cascade around my shoulders. I’m pretty sure that I had run out of tears to cry, because, for the moment, I sat, lifeless, on the bathroom floor. My knees were pulled tight to my chest and my body was too numb to react to the cold tub and floor. I stared straight ahead towards the sink and wrapped my arms around myself, not even willing to expose my body to the silence of my apartment. I crawled over to where my dress laid and stood to chuck it in a wad in the sink, filling the sink with water and letting the tattered material soak. I had walked shakily out of the bathroom and used supports all the way to my dresser drawer to get a t shirt and new panties.
I hadn’t slept at all last night. Every time that my eyes closed, his terrorizing smile flooded through my mind. How could he care so little? Every time that sleep attempted to overcome me, the feeling of him inside me knocked down every wall before it was built. Our minds have an illusion of what sex should feel like, but after last night, my mind had no problem with stripping it of all sugar coating. It hurt in my dreams just as it had hurt when I was on the floor of my apartment with him inside of me.
This morning, I lied in bed until the sun was high in the sky, but the air felt no warmer. I decided that I should test my legs. My stomach rumbled, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to eat anything; it was still doing flips and in pain from the flips. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I felt them press against the soft carpet. My toes sunk in and I closed my eyes momentarily. The shag carpet reminded me of the carpet in Harry’s room. My thoughts went dark when I remembered our fight; the one that had caused all of this. Opening my eyes, I tried to stand up. I used the bed to steady myself, as my legs were sorer than the night before, but I felt like I was sturdy enough to move.
I started with going to the bathroom and putting on a fresh t shirt. Half the struggle was getting the other shirt off. I observed the blood stain on the shirt and, with the other entire trauma, had almost forgotten about the knife wound on the side of my right breast. It had stopped bleeding, apparently using my shirt as a bandage, but it still stung. Observing the rest of my body, it could not have been me standing in this mirror. I was stronger than this. This – broken – girl was not me. I was supposed to be independent, capable… strong. Seeing the bruises that covered me was telling a totally different story.
I started with the giant hickey on my neck. I looked away, breathing in harshly as I remembered where his lips had made contact with my neck roughly. I cringed at the thoughts that took a course through my mind and continued observing. I could see definite hand prints from where he had held onto my ribs and there were more on my thighs where he had held me down to finish. I cringed away, quickly focusing on the mirror so that I wouldn’t have to think about it. Inspecting my cheek, there was still a cut there, but it wasn’t nearly as severe as the one on the side of my breast. Turning around, I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me. I couldn’t find an unmarked place on my back. The entirety of it was black, blue and purple. Slowly, I retrieved the first aid kit from beneath the sink and struggled to bend down. I sat on the counter and cleaned my cuts. I hissed, putting disinfectant on the small one on my cheek and I realized how dry my throat was.
When I had both of them covered, leaving the small ones on my hands exposed, I went out the other door and into the kitchen, careful to walk around where it had happened. Scaling the counter for support, I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. It stung running down my throat, but I nearly choked on it when a loud fist pounded on the door. Dropping to the floor, I frantically looked towards the door, almost forgetting whether I had latched the dead bolt or not. Seeing that I had, I relaxed a little until the fist banged on the door once again. My eyes shot open with fear.
“Hannah?!” I let out small sigh of relief, hearing the husky, morning voice from the other side of the door. “What the hell, Hannah?!” My heart sunk as Harry’s raged voice came through the closed door. What was he talking about? “Liam told me that you left me last night.” I still stayed silent as Harry’s voice calmed, but this filled me with worry. I knew better than anyone that this came before the biggest blow of them all when it came to fights with Harry. “He told me who you left with.” I burst into tears; I could hear his words slurring. He probably hadn’t been sober since we started drinking at the club last night. “God Hannah, open the damn door! I can hear you!” he bellowed. I cringed at the loudness of his voice. “You know what?! Fuck you!” My breath hitched in my throat at his harshness. “You’re supposed to be mine, and then you go and screw around on me with Marcus?! You’re a dumb bitch!” I cringed, remembering that these are also words that I had heard the night before. “I came back here to be with you, I came back to take my chances with you, but what the hell am I leaving with?! Nothing! This is it Hannah! You are nothing to me and you’re nothing to everyone!” My sobs became thicker as I let his words penetrate me. “Yeah, you go ahead and cry, but no one cares. Next time you want someone in your life, don’t go and fuck someone else!” If he only knew.
I sat there, leaned against the island for God knows how long, just sobbing into my lap. How could he say those things? Well, of course he could say those things; he had no idea what had happened to me, and he obviously didn’t care to know. He thought he knew what was real, but he didn’t. The worst part is that now, I couldn’t do anything to fix it, change it. I felt my necklace move around my neck and I helplessly reached for it. I looked down at the puzzle piece and the key. ‘His only.’ That no longer was true. I had been someone else’s, even if I didn’t want to be. I pressed both pieces to my lips, wanting to go back in time, wanting to take back what happened and have the opportunity to be in the warmth of Harry’s arms right now.
Sitting there, I waited for the yelling to start again, but it never did. Harry didn’t care about me anymore. When my sobs subsided, I crawled from the floor. My stomach grumbled slightly, but there was nothing that I could think of that I would be able to hold down. Feeling a clenching feeling in my heart, I closed the door and went running for my room, stumbling a few times along the way. Crashing onto my bed, I clenched my hand around my necklace and held it tight, thinking that maybe; just maybe, I could wish him back into my life.
I spent the next few days like that. I would fall asleep for ten hours at a time, my sleep filled with the same nightmares. I would wake up and it would be a new day, yet I was still stuck in the past.
It had been three days since he brought me home. I woke up in the same apartment, in the same clothes, in the same sheets, in the same pain, in the same state of mind that I had been in for the past three days. Bringing myself to a sitting position, I decided that even I could tell that I stunk, so I climbed out of bed and trudged towards the bathroom. Ignoring the sink that was still filled with soaking, red water and my most likely pink party dress, I undressed and crawled into the shower, sitting beneath the steaming water with my knees pulled to my chest.
Later, I sat on my bed, brushing out my still wet hair. I saw the bruises that were still engraved on my wrists from where he had grabbed onto me. The ones on my back were at there worst, as were the ones on my thighs; I could see them looking down at my bare legs (I wasn’t going anywhere, and the only thing that I had had the energy to put on were t shirts and panties). They were turning colors that I didn’t know bruises could turn. The cut on my face wasn’t healing right, because every time that I yawned, I would feel it reopen. It wouldn’t bleed, but it would pinch and then sting until it started to close again; it looked like I was going to have a scar across my right cheek bone.
In the past three days, I had eaten about five saltine crackers and all that I had done was throw them up after about half an hour. I didn’t eat because I wanted to, I ate because I thought that I was going to starve myself to death if I didn’t, and that’s obviously what I needed right now -_- I lounged around my apartment, bringing myself to walk to the couch and slowly plop down. I had the full intentions of coming out here to watch the telly, but I lost all motivation to grab the remote. After about twenty minutes, I had just gone back to my room, sitting on the edge of my bed and pulling my knees tightly to my chest.
There was suddenly a subtle knock on the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I crept around the corner of my door frame and it sounded again. Checking the door from a distance, I saw that the dead bolt was still in place. Why wouldn’t it be? I hadn’t gone anywhere since it happened. Creeping closer, I stood on the balls of my feet, giving me a little extra height to see through the peep hole. I jumped and crumbled backwards onto the floor after I was met with big, brown eyes.
Notes
Here we go! Dun! Dun! Dun! What's going to happen? I know it's short, but full of suspense, just like I promised :) I'm working on 37 right now and, I promise, it'll be longer than this one. Let me know what you guys are thinking. I'm loving the feedback :) Love you all!xoxo Hannah <3
so in love with this one !!! update soon!!!
10/20/16