Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery?

I wake up with a gasp, shooting from the bed. I immediately look at Aliza. She's still asleep, good. I get out of bed. No, this can't happen now. Please not now. I plead, but it's too late. My breathing is already labored and coming in short pants. 

I stumble over one of her sneakers on my way to the bathroom. It's still too close. I move to the hallway, making my way to the farthest part of the house.

Look at yourself, Harry. No. Fuck away, go. Jesus, just go. I slam my hands over my ears. My shirt is covered in sweat. Look at yourself, cherry blossom. The bile rises, but I push it down. I sit in the corner of the living room, smothering my noises with my hand. Just get past it.

Was nothing to me. It was to me! My mind yells as another sob comes. Flashes cross my mind. The first time I had to sleep on a bench, I was so scared. The hand is lifted in a not-so-nice manner. You let someone smaller than you rule you. Shame washes over me. 

Can't you see how ugly you are? NO! "Please go away, please just this once." I plead to no avail. The voice is as real as the day it happened. It's taunting me, laughing in my face. Just like every time, you said something stupid. 

My body twists at its own accord, and I heave onto the floor, my palms slapping against the tiles. I don't want to be here. I see the blue eyes. I jump up and move to the bathroom. I glance at Aliza, and she's still asleep. Maybe I can work through this without her knowing. 

I reach the mirror; my hands shake as I rest them on the counter. I stare at myself. I don't see the man I have become. I know the one I was months ago, years—the one with the pale face and dead thin body. I shut my eyes, bowing my head. Babbbbby. The voice sings to me, coaxing my eyes open. Sweat drips from me like I just took a shower.

You're not worth my time. I know, I'm so sorry. Why would you even suggest that? Who puts flowers in their fucking hair. I do. The laughter that follows is taunting. Mocking me, belittling me, and I just stand and listen. My ribs are going to break through my skin. My breathing is haggard; I can't get any fresh air into my lungs. 

I shift to the shower. The cold water hits me as I fall into it. I slide down the wall, my eyes falling shut. Open your eyes.

I look up. Yellow eyes. It's not blue like always; Aliza is staring at me wide-eyed and trembling.  No, let this be part of the nightmare. "Harry?" Her voice is small, unsure. "Don't come closer," I warn her. Cherry blossom? I'm not you're cherry blossom anymore. I turn around, leaning against the counter. 

The corners of the room start to fade.  "Harry, please tell me what to do." She pleads with tears in her eyes. You'll ruin her as you ruined us. It wasn't my fault. My lungs are wheezing. It'll be over soon; asthma is always the last step. She moves closer, and I don't stop it this time. 

I grab her when she's in reach. I don't even feel the spark when she wraps herself around me. "Your lips are blue; where is it, Harry." I'm gasping for air; my whole body is working on getting some oxygen. It feels like being shocked over and over again. 

My eyes drift from her as I relax against the wall, like a fish out of water. I'm sure that's what I look like. "Dra-" I can't finish. My body is shutting down; my hands are limp at my side as the fight leaves my body. "Harry, I'm coming back." I use the energy I have left to move my eyes to hers.

My teeth are clenched so hard together that I'm afraid they're going to chip from the tight hold, my jaw locked in a spasm.

We're underwater. "No." I don't think she hears me; it's too soft of a breath. She's gone, and my head rolls to the side again. I told you she's run. The smirk, the smirk, always got me—the cheeky smirk. Aliza comes into view again. The water turns off. She sits on my thighs. 

Her thumb is in my mouth, running over my teeth, trying to find a place to unlock my jaw. She pushes against the gums at the back of my mouth, wedging her thumb between my teeth once she successfully dislodges my jaw. "Now, Harry." The chemicals push into my mouth, but It just exits the same way.

My lungs forgot how this works.  So help me, God, Harry fucking breath." She yells, but it's far away. "NOW!" Once again, the air drifts through my lips, but this time I manage a quick breath. I can feel it travel through my lungs  "Again." She's a little less frantic. The next breath is more profound, but I winch from the burn. It's like running for hours without water. 

"One more." She says and pushes down on the little device. I manage a gulp, and it takes immediate effect. The air flows through my lungs again, burning with every breath I take. Her head moves to my forehead, her hand gripping the front of my hair. "Scared the hell out of me."

I wrap my fatigue arm around her waist. I don't think I can speak yet. Her breathing is just as hard as mine. Her hair has fallen over her eyes, and I slowly lift mine had to push it back. Her shoulders start to shake as her own sobs rip through her.

"Don't leave me," I beg. She shakes her head violently. "Never, not ever." She presses on. "Let's get you out of here. Can you stand?" I nod and start to lift myself. My body almost gives in, but she holds me up. "She walks me to the bedroom; we leave a trail of water behind us. 

I sit on the bed, hunched over. My elbows rest on my knees as I still try to breathe fully. She rushes around the room. She stands before me. "Lift." She commands and starts to take off my shirt. I lift my arms, and she pulls the wet garment off, throwing it on the floor. 

She hands me a towel, and I brush it through my hair. She undresses me softly, and with so much love, I can feel it radiate from her body. I'm completely naked in front of her, for the first time. She turns the bed over and pushes me a little. I crawl in, and she joins me once her own close is off. 

I use the towel on her hair, lightly fluffing the water away. We share a pillow after that. She folds the covers over us, creating a safe space for me. "He used to call me baby." That's all I say, waiting for her to catch up to me. 

"I don't need to know Harry." I nod. But I need to tell you. "We started dating in 2012. He was the first person I thought I could maybe have a good life with. 

He was kind. It went really well until things started to get more serious. He became controlling. He started manipulating me. I didn't notice at. First, I just thought he cared a lot." You stupid boy. 

 "He was a couple of years older, told me I was his first serious relationship, and I was so happy because he was mine. It got weird about a year in, and he still didn't want me to meet his mother or any of his friends. He started pushing me around, he was smaller than me, but he managed to dominate me anyway."

She'll stay. "His twenty-fifth birthday was coming up, almost two years into the relationship. I wanted to surprise him, so I stole his phone and called his mother. I told her we were best friends, so I didn't make it hard on him." I shake my head, fucking bastard. 

She's listening calmly, waiting for me to finish. She's softly tracing the tattoo on my shoulder. "Together, we organized a party for him. We were getting ready in the bathroom. He was excited about his surprise. My phone buzzed on the counter, and he saw the message from his mom saying that they're ready."

This is the hardest part. The part I've never told anyone before. Her face is pulled into emotion; Her heart beats a little faster next to me. "He freaked out. Pushed me against the counter and demanded an explanation. I remember being so upset that he found out so close to the party. If I knew what would happen."

I close my eyes and pull her to me, my breathing heavy against her shoulder. "We can stop." She whispers. "Just need a break. This is the hard part." She nods, kissing my shoulder—her hot breath fans over my neck. I compose myself, wanting to get it done with.

"I was the plaything. He had a wife, a family in the next fucking city. The things he said that night. I'll never get his voice out of my head. Look at yourself, Cherry blossom." He forced my head to the mirror to look at myself crying.

"He laughed at me, taunting me about how weak I was. Telling me how stupid it was for me to cry." Aliza grabs onto my shoulder, her nails digging into my skin.

It's just as hard for her to hear. "He literately pushed me out the door, with the clothes on my back." I've dealt with it for a very long time, having to control my emotions whenever I think about him.

But the wave that comes is unexpected and knocks me to the ground. "He told me I was stupid for wanting to put flowers in my hair." My lips tremble, and the sobs wrench my already tired body. Aliza tangles herself to me. In every possible way, she is all over me, shielding me from the world.

She holds me tightly, as she may never let me go. "Your so strong." She whispers. "God, you've walked through the fire." She states. Her mind is adapting to what she heard. It's a tough story for any outside but for her; it's got to hurt even more.

She pulls back, only a couple of inches. "I think I was wrong about you not being a fine line." I go cold. Is this how we end? " I think you were the first one; I think you set the bar for everything else. You're the one who led all my decisions. The right choice, the best choice. You're my finest line, Harry." I mold into her, my lips searching her and discovering them with a loud spark.  

I pour everything into her, emptying myself of all the bad things that have ever happened to me. Knowing this is the worst, and she's still here. She's not just here; she's here to stay. "We should write." She suddenly says.

She looks at me. "Let's write a song." She unlatches from me and pulls me up. My body doesn't want to, but my heart will do anything for her. She drags me to the piano, still naked. She sits down, and I sit next to her with a yawn.

She looks at me. "We don't have to. If you're too tired?" She questions.

"No wanna use it. Wanna use the raw emotion." She smiles. I move away from her, sitting on a chair right next to the piano. I put it there when we moved in.

I grab the guitar by the neck. I strum aimlessly, trying to sort through my thoughts.

"I don't want the song to be just about him. I want to write to you. I want some good words too. Will you, will you help me?"

She nods with a smile, my smile.
She's tinkering around, trying to find a melody for the mood. The words form, and they spill outwards.

Don't you call him baby.
We're not talking lately
Don't you call him what you used to call me.

I use to wonder if he found someone else to call baby. Is someone else suffering now?

I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best, I'm selfish so I'm hating it. I sing. Of course, he was happy with her. I was the only one who suffered.

I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress; take it as a compliment. She sings,  the green flannel.

Don't you call him baby
We're not talking lately
Don't you call him what you used to call me.

She sings with me, creating the most beautiful harmonies.

I, I just miss
I just miss your accent and your friends
Did you know I still talk to them?  I sing again; Mitch was his friend, Mitch chose me. he's always put me first. 

Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery? She interjects biting her cheek. I laugh softly.

Don't you call him baby
We're not talking lately
Don't you call him what you used to call me.

We repeat the chorus. It's too much for me. I'm feeling too much. My fingers don't stop playing, but a wail leaves my body. "Let it out, Harry." She's stopped playing as she holds onto my arm now. I do. 

I yell into the air, wailing and screaming because I deserve to be heard; she reminds me of that. My chest heave when I'm finished, but I feel good. She's taking it in silence, just being here. I put the guitar down with shaky hands.

I fall into her as sobs replace my previous yells. She holds me, rubbing my back as best she can. I lift my head to her. "Feels really good," I tell her, and she smiles. She doesn't have to say anything. We stay like this until I calm down, and that's when I scoop her in my arms and carry her to bed.

She folds herself small, and I wrap myself around her. I try to get as close as possible. Her back is to my chest. "I love you so much," I whisper into her hair. 

She leans into me. I wrap my arms tighter around her middle. "There will never be enough time, Harry." She matter-of-factly tells me. "Time for what, Sunshine?" I ask her, kissing her shoulder. "To use up all this love we have created." She says simply.

"Gonna try my best, though." She giggles, and I don't have a choice but to join her with my own laughter. Love is hard, horrible, and fucking ugly as hell. There are always two sides to the story, though. We just have to decide which one we focus on the most. 

It's in the early hours when I shuffle into the kitchen. The floorboard creaks, it's still part of the original flooring, and I'll only be able to get it fixed after the holidays. I make a cup of coffee, watching as it brews on leaned elbows. My head is a real mess right now.

Aliza has calmed me down and made it safe for me to open up, but my heart hurts for the young man who threw himself into love just to walk out on fire. The tears fall down my cheeks as I pour water into a cup. He fucking used me. I locked it away, unwilling to deal with the hurt he left.

I breathe better now because she's still here, wrapped up in blankets. There's lingering anger, so when the floorboard creaks again, I bend down, put my cup on the floor and yank at the loose wood. It comes right off, and I fall onto my ass. Of course, it does. I can't see anything, and my irrational fear of bugs makes me shuffle away.

I stand, taking my cup, and walk to the back door, but now I'm curious about what may be there. I dig in one of the drawers to find a flashlight. I stroll, shining it on the wood as I go. I lean down, seeing nothing at first, but on closer inspection, there's a rusted metal box. I swallow hard but reach in to take it out.

I let it fall on the floor, wiping my hands on my pants, shivering from the spider webs. I swallow back the bile and pick the box up. I rush to the sink, throwing it in and opening the tap water. I shut it down when I'm satisfied that it's clean. 

It doesn't open at first, but I grip and yank, the content spill onto the counter. I stare at it, a smile covers my face, and I can't believe that it's happened again.

Mkay Bye!