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“No.”
The words hit me like a slap in the face. “What the hell do you mean ‘no’?”
Dex didn’t look up from his screen. “It means no. I’m not interested. Find his shit your own way.”
I stared at the wall behind him, my lips parted as my eyebrows hit their peak.
“Dex,” I pushed, “... please.”
My use of sudden pleasantries surprised him and he looked up before putting his phone on the couch and standing. He stepped towards me, his eyes on mine.
“I said no, Harlow. I’m not your wingman. I want nothing to do with Finn. Or you. Hurry up and get your shit, and fuck off out of my apartment. I’m done with you being here.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the room. His words tore at my insides, the pain magnifying more than I thought possible. Except this time I couldn’t move... my feet were glued to the floor. I wanted him to fix it. I needed him to tell me he didn’t mean that, that I hadn’t wasted my time or made myself vulnerable to him for nothing.
That I meant something.
Anything.
Dex picked up his phone and belongings from the couch, looking over his shoulder as he glared at me angrily.
“I regret ever meeting you, Harlow Falls.”
He stalked off towards his bedroom, slamming the door closed. I jumped at the sound, tears spilling over my pale cheeks as sobs broke loose from my throat. I cupped my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound as I quickly ran to the bathroom.
The cold tiles sent goose bumps down my arms as I closed the toilet lid and sat down. My body heaved with silent sobs as I leaned over, my hands covering my face as I cried. Agony pulled at every single muscle, ligament, nerve in my body as his rejection hit me.
I deserved it. I fucking deserved it.
I hurt Finn. I hurt everyone. Dex was right - I was nothing. Everyone felt the same way.
Maybe they were right. Maybe I did do something wrong. I couldn’t remember much but if everyone thought I did it, then I must have. I must be the horrible person they thought I was.
The crying sent me off balance and I slipped forward onto the floor, my palms flat against the tiles as I sobbed through the anguish. I grabbed the top of the bath tub in a poor attempt to pull myself up but I slipped forward, my hand bumping off the toiletries onto the tiles.
And it hit me. Everything leading up to this moment. The pain... the suffering... the need to prove myself just to come up short.
My fingers stroked the plastic handle as I stared at the disposable razor on the floor.
I could end it. I could stop it right here, right now.
I could make everyone happy.
Hiccups broke out of my chest as I pushed myself back against the vanity, my back against the hard surface for support. My thoughts were raging, battling each other as the rational voice fought for control.
Don’t let them win, Harlow. You’re better than this. You know the truth.
Do you? Or are you wrong and you did fuck up?
There’s more options. There’s always more options.
Like what? Pain and suffering is all I deserved.
An odd calmness broke over me, my sniffles easing as my mind cleared. A wave of numbness broke the surface and despite my face being wet and my eyes puffy, I sat in silence.
Everything was shutting down. My fight-flight-freeze instincts locked at an impasse as my mind overthought as usual.
I needed control. But I needed something to take away the emotional pain. Something to take my mind off the pain inside.
Before I could even register what that meant, the razor was in my hand pressed against my legs.
My mind faded, an eerie blanket of temporary peace as pain burst through my legs. I leaned my head back, my fist opening up to let go of my grip on the razor. I faintly heard the clink as the razor hit the ground and I pulled my knees to my chest, hugging my body together.
Time ceased to exist after that. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there for before I quickly tidied up and returned to my bedroom, but one thing was for sure.
I was right when I said the old Harlow was dead.
