only edited up to her, y'all know the drill!

INTOXICATED - THE CAB

STRONG ENOUGH - A SILENT FILM

CHAPTER SEVEN

My life had never been poetic, nor had it been beautiful. If one word could describe my life it was depressing. I would just sit around during the day, probably watching reruns of some typical television show, if I didn't have any lectures. Or I would practically loathe around the class, trying to listen to what the lecturer had to say. Nothing eventful ever seemed to happen to me, it just seemed as everyone else was living as I was just sitting down at the side, and observing how everyone else lived life to the fullest, while everyone else fell in love, fell out of love, did all those stereotypical reckless university rubbish. I felt trapped in this life of mine, just sitting on the side-lines, excluded all the time. I felt trapped in my own body, as if I was an adult, trapped in an adolescent's body, like I was secretly a fifty-year-old author, trapped in a twenty-four-year olds body. I felt like I was sitting on the bleachers, with some band's music blaring in my ears, as some person yells at me to join them, but all I do is put the volume higher, I realized my exclusion was probably self-inflicted but it didn't make me want to exclude myself any less.

It all hit me one night, I was twenty-four and three years ago I was actually pretty happy-go-lucky, considering I can't even remember what happened on my twenty-first birthday. It felt as if I had stepped into comparison with my younger self, and he was laughing! My older self was disappointedly staring down at me, frowning as he observed my life. And then there was me, twenty-four year old Harry, torn between being careless or growing up. I guess I was just at an existential point of my life, but every time I looked into the mirror I saw something; something 'un-Harry' and it scared me. The person staring back at me does not look like me; he just looks drained all the time as if he never sleeps. And it scares me knowing that person is I. I was slowly becoming the self-piteous Harry I had never wanted to be, who was simply happy when needed to be, while for the rest of the time I was just loathing.

When Rose Darlings stepped into my life, with her pretty little feet, and hands softer than satin itself, it changed. She helped me tone down the blaring in my head, but at the same time got it blaring twice as loud as ever, she helped me to live again. I had felt so dead inside most of the time, and when I met her, I just started feeling alive. I stopped feeling like everyday was a drag, and every second was a dagger, and started feeling more like every second was a blessing and with each day passing I was getting closer to dying anyway, so let loose, Harry.

She had miraculously recovered the 'Harry' part I was missing, the smiles, the laughs and the dreams. She was the part I was missing all along and although it sounded extremely cliché it felt like it was true, like Rose Darlings was the missing piece in my puzzle.

I debated asking her the semi-large-but-just-as-important question after that day. Finn and Insley returned with Drew hand in hand, smiling from ear to ear because they'd bought him ice cream. Finn and Rose left shortly after and I was practically crushed. Insley couldn't stop laughing at me, saying I was so helplessly in love it was comical. At first I thought he was being absurd, but now as I think about it, I was so comically in love. The type that you can actually laugh at because it was just so stereotypical really.

I did end up seeing Rose only two days after our intimacy. We met at the local park, she'd told Finn she was going out for a walk and Drew was at school at the moment, so I figured I would take Minty out for a walk, since he was turning into a slothful piece of fur. He had gotten so big since last time I took him out for a walk, it seemed the dog was taking me for a walk instead of me taking him for a walk. A couple people shielded their giggles as I practically ran through the park with this dog guiding me to wherever he was going. Minty had evidently led me to Rose, and she looked so content. She was sitting in front of a tree, that looked a bit depressing but I think she liked it, with her sketchbook perched upon her lap and a pencil dangling from her perfect fingers. Minty literally almost jumped onto her and she almost jumped a foot into the air. I had to stop to regain my breath considering this dog just dragged me through an entire park. Rose giggled as she saw me so out of breath, I'd never been the athletic type, apart from doing football (or easier known as soccer) in high school and occasionally walking places I was pretty lazy.

"Harry Holt, who's this ball of fluff?" she asked, leaning down to pet Minty on his head.

"This here is Minty, my wing-man-dog?" I laughed a little and she did as well, Minty just stuck his tongue out with a dead expression in his eyes.

"He's precious," she continued to look at the dog, "what're you doing out? Shouldn't you be in school or something?" she finally met my gaze as I sat down next to her.

"My early lecture was cancelled so now I only have one starting right after noon," I answered truthfully.

"That's nice," she replied.

"Suppose," I responded with a smile, "what are you doing out here in the park?"

"Needed to get away from Finn," she shrugged her shoulders lightly, as she scooted closer to me, "he's been blabbering on about you since that day, and you'd swear he's in love with you and not me."

"That's interesting," I nodded and it was, "what's he saying?"

"A bunch of - how do you say it again? - Oh yes! Bullshit." She spoke with her crisp French accent, and I laughed.

"Never knew you were capable of such language, Darlings." I said.

"I could swear in French if you prefer," she looked to me and all seriousness remained in her eyes as she said it.

"You're something special, though I probably wouldn't understand half the stuff you say, if you still do that thing where you ramble on in French at light speed." I replied and she blushed a little.

"Guilty," she responded, the blush still evident on her cheeks.

"Okay," I took a deep breath, she eyed me carefully, "I've been thinking."

"Oh my." She replied.

"No, no! Like the good kind? Is there even a good kind with me?" I found myself asking, not really expecting a reply, "off topic. Rose, you're the most beautiful young woman I have ever met, and I mean it. I mean even back there on that grotesque train with my hormones raging and my insecurities pinching I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Point is, I think I'm in love with you, actually scratch that I am in love with you, have been since I saw you that day, have been since I saw you at Finn's party, what I'm trying to get at is - oh god, I'm terrible at these verbal confessions, excuse that - will you-"

She cut me off in midsentence by kissing me.

"I've never met a man who talks as much as you do," she said, kissing that and me once more was really all answer I needed. Rose and I had a different way of talking, if she had said yes I would've been a bit sceptical to be honest. Her witty answer was good enough for me, and I liked how we were different, we weren't your average pair. But in all honesty it was okay, I was so used to everything being the same that the change was welcomed into my heart with ease.

Never had I fallen so hard for a woman like I did for Rose Darlings, after Emma's death I was so afraid of getting hurt again by the female species that I couldn't bring myself to expose myself to anyone of the opposite gender. I tried ignoring the fear, tried compressing it, even tried overcoming it by trying my luck with a couple women, but nothing worked. I always ended up alone and that was my biggest fear, ending up alone at the end of the day. With Rose it was different, I didn't care whether I would end up alone, because in someone else's words; it would've been a privilege to have my heart broken by her. I was so infatuated I didn't care if she left me bruised and battered after all this was over, I was just so privileged to love her, so honoured to kiss her; just generally blessed to be able to make her smile.

I couldn't understand the euphoria I was experiencing after that day, Rose Darlings was officially proclaimed as my girlfriend, and though it seemed pretty objective, I had always been a little possessive. I just liked the ring of it, girlfriend. And not anyone else's but mine, Harry Holt's girlfriend. I had finally gotten one thing I had wanted more than anything else in the world. But all was not sunshine and happiness from then on out, not all accepted our love. Not everyone wanted us to be together. Especially Finnely Darlings.

He had been against it since the start, giving me these death glares, and such if I even stepped closer to Rose. I didn't understand why he didn't approve of me, Insley said it was because I hadn't openly told Rose about the s-disorder, but honestly, I didn't think she needed to know. Not everyone had to know 'Oh! Harry Holt is a schizophrenic! Let's lock him up in a psychiatric ward.' I didn't want to be labelled, especially not by her. She was the one person who accepted me as I was. After about a week of me popping the question, she was scarce. Rarely returned my phone calls, even less my text messages. Almost like she was avoiding me. I didn't understand what was going on, until one night she showed up at my door at three in the morning. She was crying the ocean out of her once sparkling blue eyes, and she just looked vulnerable as she stood there, whimpering. It was terrible seeing her that way, so broken and weak. I immediately let her in, sitting her down on the couch, taking a seat close to her. She muffled her sobs by diving into my chest; I wrapped my arms around her as I just let her cry. I was never extraordinary at comfort, but whatever I was doing seemed to be working since she calmed down a couple minutes later.

"What's wrong, babe?" the nickname rolled off my tongue so easily, and I hoped she didn't mind.

"Finn," she spoke, and her voice was raw and raspy, it didn't sound like her, it just sounded odd.

"What about Finn?" I felt like I was bombarding her with all these questions, she just gasped for air as if her lungs were caving in.

"Water," she finally managed to choke out and within a blink of an eye I had returned with a small glass filled with a transparent liquid, preferably known as water. She took small gulps, and after about five minutes of agonizing silence, she looked into my eyes. Her eyes were no longer the beautiful oceans I always seemed to drown in, but paler, the whites of her eyes were a bright red because she'd been crying and her royal blue coloured eyes were blurry with the tears rolling down her rosy cheeks.

"I hate him," she finally spoke and I was taken aback by what she had said, "really, I hate him. Why can't he see that you make me happy!" she raised her voice as she balled her little hands into fists, fighting back the tears.

"Rose, what happened?" I asked, trying to sound less panicked than she was. I took her hands into mine, trying to stop her from breaking anything, it seemed to calm her down.

"He thinks your no good, just because you have schizophrenia, he thinks your no good for me. And forbid the fact that you're British! Is it a crime against humanity to have an English accent that makes my knees give in? Apparently to Finn it's this humongous felony, I don't get it, Harry. I really don't." she said and neither did I. I was taken aback once more when she mentioned the disorder, but I tried not to show it. How did he know?

All these questions were shooting through my brain, like when did he find out? Was it so obvious? Maybe he's a psychologist. Maybe he's just smart! But I'm on the a-p's how could he possibly have known? Rose seemed to have noticed the panic written across my face, "He did a background check on you. He knows everything, about your dad, your mum's past, everything. I mean, who does that!" she sighed, exasperation lacing her voice.

"I don't know, if you ask me, it sounds pretty psychopathic." I replied, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"He is a psychopath. He's so afraid of me getting hurt that he's hurting me in the process! And he's so blind, he can't even see how much pain he's causing me. I just wish he'd listen to me, you know?" she rambled on and I listened to every word she spoke, even though I didn't understand what was happening I nodded anyway, "he thinks he's doing the right thing by protecting me from you, but I'm so sick of it! I'm so sick of him having to discard every man that has ever liked me, and now the only person who loves me probably doesn't even want me anymore because my brother is going to make it hell!" she sobbed again, and I hugged her closer to me.

"Shh," I said into her hair, "come hell or high water, I am in love with you. And nothing that self-centred Finn Darlings has to say about me, whether he's accusing me of psychosis, or just for being British," I laughed at the thought of how absolutely preposterous that sounded, Rose looked up and a small smile spread onto her face, "I love you, and there's nothing he can do to keep me away from you."

"Thank you," she breathed, still lying down on my chest, "thank you for calming me down."

"Any time." I replied.

"I love you," she finally choked out, "I love you." she repeated a second time, this time more confident.

"I love you too." I said, smiling, "and that's all we need."

She ended up falling asleep on my lap, figures. Rose had a weakness, if you played with her hair, she would be out like a candle. It was pretty adorable, seeing her curled up on my lap; I carried her to my room, and laid her down on my bed.

She looked so peaceful; in contrast to how she was an hour ago. I was just so infatuated with this girl, I thought after that episode; any rational human being would've left. But I was reminded that I was not rational. All rationality had been drained from me when the doctor said those words.

"Harry, you have a disorder called Schizophrenia."

It was all right not to be rational with her though, because we both knew we weren't rational. We accepted it; we accepted the fact that we both had unreasonable, impetuous thoughts. I loved her all the more though, the more impetuous she got, the more and more besotted I became.