Chapter 38: Remember

I'm running down a hallway that gets more and more narrow with every step. Panic floods my system as I move, my actions jittery and wild. I'm forced to a halt, as suddenly a wall to wall floor to ceiling window blocks my path. My sprint slows to cautious steps towards the reflective surface. I can't see anything, it's like my eyes are fogged over. Squinting, I try harder to make out the blurry image in front of me and immediately regret it. Dead eyes that look just like mine make my heart race but when those dark brown eyes lighten into a bright green then darken again to match the hue of Harry's I force myself awake. My breathing is faster than I can keep up with – it feels like I'll pass out. Lying back, I try and relax my body after pinching myself to make sure I'm really awake.

The bed is wet with sweat, forcing me to get up and change the sheets. My brain won't stop picturing Harry's dead eyes in my mind. I know I'm doing the right thing by staying away right now but damn do I miss him. I'm flying home Saturday and now I'm counting the hours until I board the plane.

I saw Dr. Greg yesterday to get in another therapy session before I leave and told him all about Charlie's offer to talk. He thinks it'll be a good chance for me to get everything off of my chest once and for all. With laughter following close behind, he advised me to keep my cool when talking to him so I could finally gain some closure. Although I couldn't promise not to get angry I did insure him that I would reach out to Charles. With a few phone calls to old friends, I got his number and set up the meeting for today. Since he has to work I'm allowing him to pick the time and place, hopefully I won't regret that decision.

Seven fifteen shines brightly from the surface of my alarm clock in the darkness of my room and a groan rips through me when I realize I can't go back to sleep. Deciding against lying in bed until everyone else gets up, I roll out of bed and get dressed for a run. Maybe some exercise can help clear my mind before my meeting with the devil.

The streets are relatively quiet for a Thursday morning but I'm not surprised. Most of the neighbors work in Austin or one of the other surrounding cities so they have to leave earlier than the in town workers. My feet pound the pavement, providing the only sound for what feels like miles outside of the occasional bark from a dog in the distance. The rhythmic noise of my feet slapping the ground provides the perfect substitute for my music I stupidly left behind in my rush to get outside. It's like lately I have all of this extra energy inside that I'm dying to let out. I know it's because every fiber of my being is missing Harry. He keeps me balanced – sane, if you will. Without him I have a surplus of emotions with no outlet.

The knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach won't go away and I can't tell if it's from my upcoming meet up with Charles or the impending showdown Harry and I are bound to have once I make it back to LA. Honestly, I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of fighting him, I'm tired of fighting my feelings, but most of all I'm tired of fighting the truth. We're either going to be together and find a way to get past our differences or we aren't – it's that simple. This time apart has made it abundantly clear that we can't keep focusing on who's to blame for our problems. Our focus needs to be on our communication; how we do it, how effective it is, and how often.

For instance, I called last week to tell him that I'd be staying a bit longer in Texas. Initially, he didn't protest but he got insanely quiet. Finally, I asked him what was wrong and he told me he missed me. I returned the sentiment but stood firm in us needing this time apart. I don't understand why it took so much extra for either of us to say what we felt. But then there are other times when our communication is so good it seems like it's not an issue at all. Like when we spoke the night of Brady's funeral, his voice was so soothing and sweet I wanted to fly home the next day. He wanted to check on me to insure that I was okay. I didn't have to call him or text him, he just knew. He knew that I needed him because I'd just buried my friend. He knew that his voice – no matter what he was saying – was what I needed to hear to still the storm inside of me. He calmed me, then allowed me to ramble on about the funeral and how it had me thinking about how short life is. I told him to think about us and to write down everything he's never said to me that he wished he had and that I'd do the same. I wanted him to soul search just like I am so that once I get back to LA we'll be on the same page. He agreed but unfortunately, we haven't talked since. Outside of a few text messages here and there, mostly about my agreeance to sign to Oak Market after a lawyer in town looked over the contract Jackson gave me, it's been radio silence. I miss talking to him every day but it seems like, for now at least, we're saving all of our words for when I get back home.

The sad thing is, when we were friends our communication was golden. There was never anything I couldn't talk to him about and vice versa. However, once we started dating we fell into the age old trap of omission and avoidance. When you get in a relationship, you learn what buttons to push with your partner and when. For most people, after one or two arguments, they recognize the 'bad' buttons and ignore them, never pushing them – even if the topic at hand needs to be spoken on. Essentially, you're lying to one another and this is where Harry and I have ended up. Neither of us has been completely honest – me with my past and him with his feelings about it - and it threw our communication off completely. So many times we'd shut a conversation down or cut it off early just to avoid anything that even looked like an argument and that's not okay – it's stifling. The quickest way to collapse even the best relationship is a lack of communication. That type of behavior builds resentment and that's something I don't think either of us wants.

My steps have turned to stomps as the thick morning air fills my lungs like stacked weights. I'm out of breath and burning up even as chilling sweat runs down my body. The cool air from the house rushes at me as I open the door, nearly making me moan. After locking up, I can hardly wait to get upstairs to shower. I'm tired again and with any luck I'll be able to hold onto that feeling until after my shower's done so I can go back to sleep.

~*~

I've been sitting in my car for the past ten minutes debating on whether or not I should go into the restaurant. When Charlie sent me the name I immediately regretted letting him set the terms for our meeting. The amount of history behind that one word: Dumont's – is astounding.

Just reading the name had me slipping out of my Louboutins and playsuit and back into my pajamas and fuzzy socks. I was picking up my phone to text him that I wasn't coming when I saw my wallpaper. It's a picture of Harry and I that Niall took on one of our beach outings. I'm on Harry's back grinning from ear to ear as he piggybacks me towards the camera. I remember how insistent I was that he not try to carry me and how persistent he was in doing so. He damn near demanded we at least attempt it. He even went so far as to bring up the amount of Instagram likes he'd get and how fulfilling each little red heart is for him. Of course I knew he was full of it and couldn't care less about the attention but his effort convinced me nonetheless and now we have this beautiful picture and memory to show for it.

That photo reminded me of why I'm doing this – it's all for him. The man that I love, the man that deserves to finally hear those words from my lips. He shouldn't have to wonder how I feel or if I care. He shouldn't have to be concerned that one day I'll up and leave him without a fight – whether it's out of fear or a lack of love. He shouldn't have to feel the way that the man in that restaurant always somehow made me feel.

He should know I love him just from the look in my eyes and from the way I say his name. He should know I would do anything – fight lions, tigers, bears - for him. He should know that when he's with me my entire world is more colorful - it's bright and happy and vibrant. Even when everything in me - from my anxiety to my depression to my fear - tries to pull me down he is my life raft. He saves me from drowning every single time even if it means sacrificing himself. I've never thanked him for that, I've never thanked him for the things he does right – but that's all changing. I know the best way to thank him is by closing this door that I've left open for too long.

With no more hesitation and a last look at the picture, I blow him a kiss and get out of the car. My knees are shuddering with every footstep making me thank God I found parking close to the door. My body is racked with anxiety not only from the awaiting conversation I've been running from for a near decade but also from the memories this restaurant holds.

I know the golden and maroon hues of the walls, the dark brown of the wood floors, and the low intimate lighting like the back of my hand – they're etched in my memory like stone. Not much has changed, including the beautiful wall of windows to the west of the building that overlooks the forest and the lake. The sun is setting, creating a romantic pinkish lighting effect for the tables nearest the windows.

Nearly nothing has changed. It feels like I'm being transported back in time, to the first and last time I was here – with Charles. It was our first date – my first date - and such a key moment in my life at that point. I felt so special, so important then. I had never heard of him taking any other girls on dates but there he was, taking me. I floated on air all morning and had the jitters all afternoon until he arrived on my doorstep.

As I give my name to the hostess, I see Charles and point him out to her so she knows where I'm going. I don't bother listening to her pleasantries, my brain is submerged - one half in the past one in the present. He got the same table, at the same time of day – he's even wearing damn near the same outfit as if he's recreating that night. I wouldn't put it past him. I know him. We were friends for years before we took things further – this seems like one of his tricks.

The black and white button down and black slacks he's sporting look nice on him as he stands up, waiting for me to arrive at the table. His dreads are still neat and he's grown his facial hair a bit more into a goatee and chin strap. Diamond studs in his ears gleam in the light and his deep chocolate skin is just as flawless as it always has been. My mouth gets drier the closer I get to the table and my heart is beating out of my chest with nerves.

Being here in this place, where I fell in love with him, is doing things to me. It's bringing back those feelings I thought I buried deep. They explode from my heart in streaks of destructive flames that light the room on fire. I feel like I'm suffocating. With each struggled breath feelings of being undesirable and inadequate fill me. I can feel the room closing in, the walls like smoke from the fire, sucking all of the oxygen out of the room. I feel it all over my skin like a thick film defacing my body with soot. Every step closer to the table and his smiling face pulls me closer to the flames that nearly consumed me. I want so badly to look at my wallpaper again, to find my center – my happy place, but before I can I'm at the table.

"You look beautiful," Charles states, with that beaming smile that used to stop and start my heart, as he pulls out my chair.

I return his grin with a small one of my own as I sit in my chair. I don't know what to say to him, my mouth is parched and my brain is fried. It's surreal being across from him right now especially in this place.

If I thought I loved him before he brought me here, this is the place where I fell even deeper. He was so sweet, just like he's being now. He'd impressed my parents when he came to pick me up. He'd impressed me with his gentlemanly ways; compliments, opening doors, pulling out chairs – the whole nine. I felt so special. For the first time ever everything was about me. I'd never experienced that before - having every ounce of someone's attention. He seemed to open up that night and I felt like he was done treating me poorly. I saw a future for us in the way he engaged with me. It was like I hung the moon; it was magical. I finally thought he understood how I felt about him but of course magic doesn't exist, lies do.

I never look back on that night. I can't count it as a good memory because of how tarnished it is, covered in the gore of all he did wrong before and after that singular event. But if I had to pick one shining moment from our massacred past together it would be that one. He seemed to really enjoy himself and I know I did. That thought alone makes the blazing hot of the room crank up a few more notches.

"You remember the last time we were here?" he asks, as if reading my mind, his smile is broad as he sits down in his chair. "Boy, you loved you some me. Couldn't get enough of me."

I dig my nails into my self-control, the only thing holding my anger at bay. Those few words pull the fire from the room and place it back in my heart where it belongs. As I open my mouth to snap at him the waitress comes and takes our orders. I only order a glass of Merlot which earns a hard look from Charles that I couldn't care less about. I don't intend to be here any longer than I need to – I can grab food on the way home.

He doesn't bother questioning me about my choice in food, or lack thereof, and instead decides to talk my ear off in what I assume is his attempt to keep me around. As he drones on about what he's doing in his life now I can't help but imagine what life would've been like had things worked out.

I assume he would've eventually shaped up, although that's doubtful, and like the fool I was I probably would've married him. He always talked about having a big family so I more than likely would've been pregnant before the ink dried on our marriage license and on my own through the pregnancy - if his baby's mother's experience is anything to go off of. Speaking of her, she's a nutcase. She's hated me ever since the two of them got together. I guess in her eyes I'd always be the one that got away to him and that left the worst taste in her mouth. So not only would I be strapped with a sad excuse for a husband but I'd also have to deal with his insane baby mama and probably work some shįt nine to five because I definitely wouldn't have gone to college. I can't even picture myself living such a mediocre unhappy life. The thought of it makes my skin crawl.

He's still talking, even as his appetizer and my wine arrive. I take a long gulp of the sweet nectar and decide to end this quickly. I have one question and a few things to get off my chest and then I'm gone.

Interrupting him mid-sentence I ask the question that's been haunting me like my own personal ghost for years, "Why did you treat me the way you did?"

He looks stumped as if he can't fathom what it is I'm talking about. "And what way was that Bailey?"

"Like shįt – actually that's not true because shįt does eventually get picked up. What's worse than that?" I tap my chin as if I'm thinking it over for emphasis.

He mulls his eyes as if I'm exaggerating so I continue. "You treated me like I was disposable, worthless; like I was some bird you didn't know, not your best friend for years."

"You really want to know why?" he asks, pausing as if I'll change my mind. When he sees I haven't he continues with a 'it's your funeral' kind of shrug. "I was testing your loyalty and then all of a sudden you changed up," he says, disappointment in his voice.

My face speaks for me, as my voice is lost trying to figure out where he has me fůcked up at. I never changed. I was the most solid person in his life. I stuck by him like family and he did nothing but spit in my face as payment, for years.

"I mean you had me thinking you would be there for me and ride for me and then one day I look up and you're gone. You changed your number, you deleted me from social media and avoided me at all costs like I had something catchy."

My fingers' hold on my control is slipping faster than I can grab it. The longer I sit here the more I feel myself regressing. Each second passing reveals my greatest fear - becoming her again; the gullible naive little girl who stood for nothing and fell for absolutely everything especially concerning him. Her presence looms over me like a phantom, waiting for her moment to pounce – it always has. Its laughable how I thought I missed her, how I romanticized the 'innocence' Charles took from her. I guess that was easier than the reality. It's becoming evident now with every passing moment I don't miss her. I never did. I hate her and I hate him.

I struggle to keep my voice hushed and respond through gritted teeth, "You slept around and made me look like a fool for years as a test? Are you psychotic? You broke my trust, my faith in people, my faith in love and once I finally have enough and leave – you're mad? I gave you chance after chance to fix this, against my better judgement, because I thought you would ride for me, I thought you would love me enough to change but you never did. Did you think I was going to wait for you forever? I was just supposed to pause my life and wait for you to come to your senses so we could pick up where you left off? I didn't deserve to be tested Charles I deserved reciprocation. I gave you everything I had, every piece of me I could reach and you broke each and every one of them."

I realize I'm getting louder but I'm on a roll. I've waited too long for this. "I was fragile and vulnerable and you took advantage of that. For what? What was it about me? Huh? Was I too loyal? Did you see that as a weakness to exploit? Was I too open? Because you took every insecurity I confided in you and exploited it. What was it Charles? Was it for laughs? Was letting me down just to get me back under your control that entertaining? Why try so hard when you knew you didn't have good intentions? You betrayed me, my trust, our relationship, and our friendship and I want to know why." By this point I'm jamming my finger into the table so hard with every word, the wine in my glass is sloshing around.

He cuts in, darting his eyes at the few tables of people casting glances our way, "This was the problem. You always started shįt in public. You loved the attention and it looks like you still do."

"The only attention I wanted was yours – I only needed yours. But you knew that. You were just too busy betraying me to care."

It's like it was an accomplishment for him to see how many times he could play me and make me come back. I know I can't place all of the blame on him but he saw my naivety – the blind spot I had for him and abused it. The second I let him know I was totally his and that no one else could ever come close to him was the moment I sealed my fate. I had him in the column of people I could trust, people I didn't have to worry about and he ruined that – he tarnished the integrity of that list. I felt like I couldn't trust anyone after him and I haven't been able to shake that distrust in my judgment.

"You knew we weren't exclusive," he gripes, trying to flip the script.

"No, I didn't. You lied to me constantly and told me I was the only one," I snap, glaring at him, "You act as if that would even matter. Even if I had known for certain we weren't together, you made promises to me, commitments – and you broke every single one. You made me feel crazy when I would come to you with things I'd heard – made me seem like I was seeing things or hearing things. You manipulated me. You took my feelings I shared with you and turned them into something ugly; something to fear. I don't open up easily, at all, but I did to you and you made sure to ruin it for everyone else after you."

He just sits there, not looking at me. I'm not even sure if he can.

"It took me almost until now to realize I never loved you – not really, truly, deeply. See, real love is like a battery, the shįt doesn't work unless both sides are connected and we weren't. When I thought I loved you, I didn't even love myself so there was never a chance. I wanted loving you to be enough – I wanted you to love me enough for the both of us - but it wasn't enough and it never would be. I could change myself to be who I thought you wanted until the cows came home but the truth is you didn't know what you wanted and neither did I. We were both lost and I see that clearer than ever now."

I feel satisfied. I've said what I needed to say. Opening my purse, I pull out a ten for my wine and place it on the table; getting ready to leave since he seems to have lost his voice.

"Maybe I didn't deserve you," he finally admits, his head bowing.

The petty in me won't allow me to feel badly for him. "You didn't," I state matter-of-factly, earning a shocked stare from him.

He shakes his head, smirking to himself. "You think you're so much better than me don't you? Prancing around in LA with your little white boy like you're not just a token to him – something to show he's down so he can gain more black fans for his stupid ass band. You come in here with your red bottoms on and your YSL bag like some high priced hooker and you don't even realize what's happening right in front of your eyes. You're still as naive as you've always been. You're extra zeros on a paycheck to him that he just so happens to fůck whenever he can. The second you stop being useful he'll drop your ass and then you'll be right back here."

I feel my blood boiling in my veins, my breathing is so hard my chest is visibly heaving. I want to go off. I want to yell at him about how amazing Harry is and how much he loves me and how much I love him. I want to scream at him every single thing Harry's done to undo the damage he dealt but instead, I push my chair out and snatch my ten bucks off the table before leaving. I don't owe him money nor an explanation. I don't have to prove him wrong about Harry and I. As they say, seeing is believing so I'll show him better than I can tell him.

I hear him throwing apologies at my back but they bounce off and land right back in his lap – they're unnecessary not to mention insincere. Smiling at the onlookers I hurry out of the restaurant before someone pulls out a camera. I'd rather not become a YouTube sensation overnight.

It feels like so much time has passed since I went in but the sun is still making it's exit. I guess time flies when you're getting closure. I'm almost to my car when I feel a hand grab mine and spin me around.

"Wait, Bailey, please. I'm sorry for what I said in there alright? I just... I'm dealing with a lot and I lost my temper. I'm sorry for everything. Do you forgive me?" Charles asks, his rubber band on his dreads must've popped on the way out here because his hair's spread out around his head like a lion's mane.

I used to think he was such a king. It's funny how when you think you're in love with someone you view them as perfect; accepting their flaws even when it hurts because they're your perfect person. I never saw this side to him upfront, this vile, hateful side. He was always sly and sneaky when he did things to hold his façade of perfection. And I fell for it every time. I mean when he'd kiss me I had to force myself away from him to keep things from going too far. Now, the idea of even being near him repulses me. It's sad it took me this long to see who he's always been. It hits me that I never really knew him and it's like betrayal all over again the difference now being he can't hurt me anymore.

"Do I forgive you?" I repeat his question hoping he hears how dumb it sounds. Especially in light of how disrespectful he just was to me.

He takes another step forward, still holding my hand before replying, "That's what I asked."

I look down at our connected hands, his gripping mine for dear life while mine feels and looks trapped. The symbolism is strong. I was his hand in our relationship, holding on with everything I had even though he made it crystal clear to everyone but me that he didn't want me.

Rage I thought I'd buried years ago resurfaces at once, focusing it's energy on my hand being held captive. With one hard pull I yank myself free and turn to fully face him.

"No Charles. I don't. I don't forgive you for making my life hell, for driving me crazy, for taking away the one thing I needed, my hope. You let me go just to watch me burn, over and over – that's sick. You're a sadistic bastard and a coward. You've never even sincerely apologized and now you're going to ask me if I forgive you for everything that you've done. Why don't you go fůck yourself on your way to hell where you belong you bum aŝs nig-" I stop short of finishing my word as I catch a glimpse of my face in the window of my car. The look in my eyes has me searching for my train of thought, searching for myself – I don't look like me. My eyes are dead, they're cold; just like the ones in my dream, the ones that turned to Harry's.

Suddenly it all makes sense. I've been letting this shįt with Charles slowly kill me and if I'm not careful I run the risk of 'killing' Harry too. Turning, I look at myself head on, my hands fly to my face. I will my eyes to return to normal. As they do, the rumble in my chest slows slightly. Shaking my head, I grab my keys and unlock the doors – leaving Charles on the sidewalk watching me. Before he can say anything I back out of my parking spot and fly out of the lot like my hair's on fire.

~*~

I lie in bed trying to wrench a hug from Harry's shirt encasing my skin. My legs writhe as I imagine it's his arms around me instead of the sleeves of his long sleeve thermal, his body wrapped around me snugly instead of the warm material. A sigh escapes my mouth sounding more like a helpless groan. I feel cold even though I'm snug in my bed. I haven't been able to sleep at all. Every time I try, I see my eyes as I yelled and screamed at Charlie. I see the coldness in them - I looked like a psychopath, like I could kill him and not feel a thing. The symbolism from my nightmare is so much stronger now; the deadness inside of me is killing Harry, it's killing us. My nose burns and unshed tears fill my eyes.

My head has been spinning, rehashing the argument I had with Charlie. It was almost like an outer body experience seeing how I look arguing. Although the showdown between Charlie and I has been a long time coming I can't get the way my eyes glazed over out of my head. I can't help but wonder if that's how I look when Harry and I fight – the thought makes me shudder. I'd hate to think that every time I snapped at him I was seeing Charlie's eyes instead of his.

Emotionally, I don't think I ever moved on from being a depressed, manipulated seventeen-year-old and that's sad. That's the saddest thing I think I've ever heard. To allow yourself to be stunted and shackled for years by someone who doesn't have physical hold of you is stupid. I've been stupid. A colossal idiot.

Realizing that now, I know I just want to be happy. I can't keep doing this to Harry or myself. I deserve happiness and Harry is my happy place. I'm hoping he can still see what he saw in me before I let fear put a death grip on me and hand pick my insecurities to put on display. The way I react to vulnerability is to lash out, to stamp it out before it can take root and bloom into a flower that can be picked and destroyed. I have to remind myself that that's not everyone's way – it's Charlie's – and it's for damned sure not Harry's.

Seeing Charlie and finally getting everything out was such a release. I'd been practicing that speech in my head for over five years and to finally be able to say it to him put me in a much better place. I've claimed I want to change more times than I can count but truthfully I didn't. I didn't have the tools to. Subconsciously I think I was holding onto that anger, that hurt, until I had the courage to let it out so I could face what really scared me; myself.

For years I thought when Dr. Greg told me to forgive that he meant I had to forgive Charles. The truth is I never needed to – he's irrelevant to my growth - I had to forgive myself. The woman I am today had to forgive the girl I used to be for being everything I despise, everything I avoid. Wanting to stop myself from ever becoming the old me again overtook my mind, my spirit, so tightly it was all I could focus on. I nearly let someone amazing get away from me because of it. Harry's not perfect but neither am I, by far. Seeing Charlie, talking to him, opened my eyes to the fact that I let myself down and that's the biggest betrayal I have to forgive in order to move on.

When I showered tonight I looked in the mirror and saw myself for what felt like the first time. I wasn't just seeing who I am now, I was able to see who I used to be. I was able to accept the marred old version of myself as a part of me and I've never felt more whole. Learning to love that portion of me is going to be tough but I have to learn. I can't adore the fragments of me that make me happy and ignore the ones that don't – that's not love. I have to love myself – totally – unconditionally.

I thought for so long that I had to choose between being who I was - sensitive and trusting - and who I became - hard and guarded. I tried to distance myself from everything I used to be in every way. In my mind I looked at who I was as a little girl. I treated my transformation like a phoenix rising from the ashes to become the strong calculated woman I felt I needed to be to survive in this world. What I didn't realize was that my outlook was tainted. It was so hard to make myself believe that not everyone was like Charles. Yes, people will be terrible but everyone doesn't have to pay for the sins of the few.

Looking at myself in the mirror the question came to my mind, to be able to openly, fully trust again, would I take it all back? As much grief as being broken caused me I wouldn't change a single thing. I needed that heartbreak, I needed it to make me uncomfortable so I could grow. My mother always says if you're living too comfortably you aren't expanding, and as always, she's right. I may have been shattered but in the time it took me to rebuild my heart I found the pieces of me that I had tucked away there, the pieces I thought Charlie stole from me. To find out I was the real thief all along opened my eyes to the knowledge that changing for a man and holding back who I am can only result in disaster. If someone loves you there's no such thing as 'tests' or hoops to jump through to prove yourself. When the love is there the only thing you need to bring to the table is yourself.

However, if I'm honest with myself, I needed to change. My heartbreaks have been some of the best things to happen to me in the long run. I genuinely believe that everything happens for a reason. I wouldn't be the woman Harry loves if I wasn't who I am today. He's always seen all of me; the good, bad, past, and present and he's loved me completely. If I hadn't changed, we wouldn't exist. There's space in this world for people who believe the best in everyone but that was never who I was meant to be. Had Charles and the loss and disloyalty from other close friends never happened to me it would've been something else that caused me to change from the inexperienced girl I was – it's fate.

This trip allowed me the chance to face the version of myself I thought I'd left behind. It's almost like by rejecting it, it became a shadow – a ghost, a menace, set out on haunting me until I realized what I left behind. I had to face the fact that I hadn't forgiven myself and realize that demons don't die by shoving them in a closet or sweeping them under the rug, they have to be slain. I'll admit, it's hard understanding myself sometimes and the things I do, yet with the unravelling of the image I had of myself in my head, a clearer picture is immerging. I don't think I'll ever stop changing, to me that's a part of life. I just have to find a way to navigate the reunion of the former and current versions of myself - that's the only way I'll be able to find any peace. Trusting yet intelligent, tough but soft, strong yet open - that's the woman I want to be. The best parts of each personality rolled into one. I have to remind myself that softness and vulnerability aren't weaknesses and that I can be both smart and open without losing myself.

I'm nowhere near where I need to be but God knows I've come some ways. There was a time when I swore off all things love related - hell, all things people related. I was tired of the mistreatment, the abandonment; the abuse from people I loved who claimed to love me. I hated the word, the idea, the thought of love. It'd brought me nothing but heartache and I promised myself I'd never feel it again. Family, friends, lovers – whoever, I refused to be hurt by anyone. I promised myself I'd never again feel the agony that came with the people I cared for callously detaching themselves from me. The feeling was torturous; like having a limb removed slowly, tendon by tendon. With each severed link I grew stronger in my hatred for 'the L word' - the tainted blood from the open wounds filled my heart with blackness.

I was empty for so long. Like a shell of a person with no emotion, no empathy, no sympathy, no connection at all to the people around me. Meeting Harry was like being born all over again. Emotion hit me in waves - feelings I'd long forgotten the caress of filled my veins and inched closer and closer to my heart like poison. With every beat, one feeling moved closer – faster than the others, threatening to overcome me - to consume me. It took me a while to recognize it, the only other time I'd felt it was with my family. The familiar warmth in my veins, filling my mind and spirit with light - it was love. It was love and it was pure. I've never been loved unconditionally before – at least not by someone who had the choice to do otherwise. I had no idea how to react to it. I wanted to protect it and yet I wanted to protect myself, creating internal turmoil. I didn't realize that you can let love in without letting yourself down.

The way I am, it's a learned behavior. I taught myself how to be shut off and now I have to teach myself to open up. I have to learn how to trust myself again because I need him. I need Harry and I'm not afraid to admit that anymore. When I met him, I became overwhelmed with this surge of feelings that I hadn't thought about for years – I hadn't had to. I became so comfortable with the feeling of not having anything to lose. Nothing mattered to me and then he came and everything mattered. The way he felt, the way he made me feel, the impact we left on each other – it all mattered. I felt like I needed something, someone, again and that feeling tore me to pieces. To know that I had something on the line was scarier than anything I've ever faced.

When I realized I loved him I was terrified. Everything about him and love shook me to my core. I'd had good treatment before, I'd had people be there for me and dedicate time to me and then they changed. Like flipping on the lights, the person they were wasn't who they wanted to be anymore. I couldn't call them friend any longer, I couldn't depend on them, they used me up and threw me away. I felt expendable and I knew that if that ever happened with Harry, if he ever woke up one morning and decided not to love me anymore that my world would burn. So every day I was on pins and needles, waiting for him to flip the switch – it made me prickly.

I guess I can make all the excuses I'd like or offer every reasoning under the sun but the fact still remains that I've made a terrible mistake. I've been making Harry pay for the bullŝhit I went through in the past and not only was it unfair but uncalled for. No, Harry's not perfect but he's not Charlie and he's not me.

I didn't intend to hurt Harry. To be truthful I didn't think my holding back was that important. I've never been with someone who really wants all of me – not just the pretty or sexy parts. The way men are portrayed is like these heartless robots who only need sex and food and that's what I'd experienced until him. I'd never met a man whose idea of intimacy didn't involve me being naked and on my back. Showing him my heart, my dreams, my aspirations for myself and for us – that's what he wants from me. Honesty – it's what he deserves, what we both deserve.

I didn't think – I was selfish. I never should've justified it in my head. I never should've treated him anything less than how he's worthy of being treated – how he treats me. When he fůcks up, of course he deserves to be checked, but when he's doing his job as my man and loving me, the only thing he deserves is reciprocation.

Ultimately, I've been a coward. Harry's been getting the brunt of it for months now, flare ups of pain that's been stewing for over half a decade. But no more, I'm done letting my past control me and hurt my future with him.

Rolling out of bed, I grab my laptop and bring up the document I've been working on since I got here. I've been slowly detailing the revelations I've made - it helps me to see it in black and white. I have to take this a step at a time, starting with apologizing. I feel my stomach begin to churn and my heart rate thunder at the thought. I'm not very good at apologies, my pride doesn't let me give them often but Lord knows Harry deserves one or two or ten. I've treated him like a criminal for too long.

The idea of redeeming myself in his eyes scares me. My anxiety fills me with doubts but that leads me to step two - fighting against the things that fight against me. My anxiety has never given me any gifts so I intend to return the favor by not giving into it. Fear fuels my worry and apprehension and I have to rid my life of it completely. That includes my fear of opening up and my fear of being hurt. Arguably, it'll be hard but he's worth it.

I'm not reinventing the wheel here; millions of people take this same chance every single day. I just have to remind myself that nothing will ever be perfect no matter what. By that I mean, starting or avoiding fights is no longer an option. Truth is, because Harry and I are different people, and we don't share a brain, we're going to fight - it's natural. But now that we've acknowledged this we can move on and fight about normal crap like the color of curtains or whose turn it is to do the dishes. You know, normal shįt people argue over.

It'll take a while to relearn how to function without the pain driving me, I know this. I'm lost without it but Harry's been my constant star through it all, shining brightly pointing me towards home. All that's left for me to do is to take the first step.

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What's up my good people!!!!

I hope yall enjoyed the chapter! This chapter is dedicated to ajourneywbeauty for showing love in my inbox on a day when I needed it! Not only do they show support on my work but they're very sweet! They also write stories on here so check them out yall!

I've also been nominated for Best FanFiction by True-North in The Fiction Awards hosted by thefictionawards so if yall are on the app and would like to, please go vote for your girl in their book The Fiction Awards 2016!! Make sure yall follow the directions and are on the Wattpad app to vote :)

As always, the chapter is unedited so please forgive any mistakes!!

This chapter's Question...

Are you ready for Bailey to go home?

This chapter...

I shed real tears writing this chapter yall! If you didn't know, Bailey's personality is LOOSELY based on mine and some of her experiences are actual things I've gone through.

So yes, Charlie is a real person (more like 3 different guys rolled into one lol)

For instance, the prom thing Charlie put her through – yeah that really happened to me lol The majority of the things that have happened to her with Charlie have happened to me so I guess that's why I relate so much to her. I can always see 'her side' to things because I feel exactly where she's coming from (being a Virgo and having gone through the same bs lol)

I had a blast writing this chapter though. I have to admit it was pretty therapeutic writing the scene between her and Charles. I never got my cathartic moment to tell my 'Charlie' off so when I was writing B's I was feeling it hard af so sorry if it was intense lol

I ended up crying when I wrote her revelation after she got out of the shower. Something about that imagery made me tear up :-/ I know how it feels to hate a part of yourself for something especially when you knew what you were getting into but decided to be stupid anyway. It's a process to accept that part of yourself 'back into the fold' so to speak. I'm so glad she finally came full circle and can now live in her truth.

I really hope B has redeemed herself in yalls eyes but if she hasn't that's okay too :)

This chapter's song...

Remember by Jhene Aiko. I know yall are probably tired of me picking Jhene songs lol but honestly this song is everything the second I heard it I knew no other song would do this chapter justice. It spells out B and Charlie's past so perfectly it made me cry when I heard it (too much crying lately lol).

Apparently the lyrics are "Do you remember, do you remember who you were? Do you remember who you were?" But I always hear "Do you remember, do you remember who you were? Do you remember who you hurt?" It makes the song more true to me so I'll keep hearing it that way lol

It's just the perfect description of a careless boy not realizing the affect his actions have on the girl who loved him. How he can go on with his life seemingly forgetting who he was to her and what he did but she always remembers.

As for new follower S/O's...

This time we have:

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Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!

Invite your friends to read and follow and leave me some feedback in the comments!! I love hearing from yall!!!!

Until Next Time,

WBN