SONG(s) FOR CHAPTER: 

♬ Sad Song by We The Kings ♬

♬ All You Had To Do Was Stay by Taylor Swift ♬ 

CHAPTER 5

❀ GRACE WALKER ❀

        I CLOSED THE door to Harry's room quietly, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay. I shouldn't be nearly crying due to the fact that it's been almost two years. I should be over it, emotionally blank. I wasn't sure why my heart still cracked by the mere sound of his name being heard.

        Shaking my hands a bit as if I can wiggle away the feeling of him, I headed back over to the desk where the interns mill about. Most were gone, their shifts long over, but Evan still hunched over the desk with his phone in his hands playing some game.

        "Hey," I said. He looked up and smiled, slipping his phone in his jacket pocket. "You didn't have to wait for me."

        He rolled his eyes. "It's past midnight and you live like, twenty minutes away by foot. I wasn't going to let you walk."

        "Well, thanks, but I still have to check up on some files for Doctor Miles."

        "I can wait a little longer."

        I gave him a look, uncertain, but he flashed me another goofy grin before spinning like a five year old in the office chair. I laughed some, sitting behind a computer opposite him and clicking a few things. I typed in the security pass code Miles left for me, clicking a couple more keys before I could finally get access.

        Typing in Harry's full name and birth date, it took a bit more information and a lot more clicks before his records flashed on the screen. I sucked in a breath at what I was about to do, feeling like I was intruding his private life. But I kept in mind that this was for his health's sake, so the doctor could help.

        I began reading.

NAME: STYLES, HARRY E.

DATE OF BIRTH: 02/01/1994 

        I skipped past all the birth information, like the time he was born and what weight and height he was. His first documentation of a doctor visit, of an emergency room visit when he fell off his bike and broke his hand at the age of eight, and other random things that occur in one's life. But there were other emergency room visits that didn't add up.

EMERGENCY ON 10/09/2000 - DOCTOR'S NOTES:

- Crucial bruising of the left eye and jaw; "nail marks" lining the inner flesh of both arms; scalp very red and bleeding.

- Patient and mother say he fell down the stairs, also has a nervous habit of tugging the hair and scratching.

- Mother also has scarring on the right side of face, though claims it was a childhood accident.

- Both deny possible occurrences of domestic abuse. 

        My hand covered my mouth without me realizing, though it's obvious that it had been domestic abuse. His father, of course, had been an alcoholic. I remembered that way too vividly from when Harry described to me the scene he witnessed those few years ago when his father killed his mother before killing himself. All while he and his sister watched, petrified.

        There were many other reports of "falling down the stairs" or "slipping on the tile" and even "getting in a fight at school" was apparently better than getting help from an abusive man in the house. It didn't make sense to me. I couldn't fathom why someone would stay with someone that was hurting them. But I'm also not a victim of abuse, so I couldn't say.

        However, more shocking reports had been filed, starting at the age of fourteen.

WALTER'S INSTITUTION FOR JUVENILE DELINQUENTS

NAME: STYLES, HAROLD E.

AGE: 14

REASON FOR ADMISSION: CONSTANT FIGHTS IN SCHOOL, UNABLE TO CONTROL ANGER, HITS FOSTER MOTHER IN SPUR OF LASHING OUT 

        My jaw had surely dropped. Harry had never told me he went to a detention center, nor had he mentioned hitting his foster mother. It didn't sound like him. Not at all. In fact, I didn't want to believe it because of how wrong it sounded. The Harry I was reading about was not the one I loved.

        So far, I had found out that he had been to a detention center three times, each for six month sentences. But the reasons were always vaguely similar, though none sounded anything like Harry. And after the third time, he had been switched to a new foster home, ending the juvenile delinquent streak.

        Only to start up a new one - a possible psychopath.

        My head was throbbing by the time I reached therapist records, and I breifly looked up to give my eyes a break when I noticed Evan was giving me a worrisome look. To silence possible questions, I said, "This kid had a lot going on."

        Evan smirked a little. "We're all a little messed up, though, aren't we?"

        "Fair point." I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. "You really don't have to keep waiting, Evan. I could get a bus or-"

        He rolled his eyes, waving dismissively. "Take your time. Besides, I have to beat my little sister's high score on Crossy Road or I'll never hear the end of it."

          So I laughed and tried to focus on the screen again. Could I really handle anymore foreign news about the boy I'm still hung up on? Is it possible that all of the things I'm reading about are physically hurting me just to know he's been through so much?

        Least to say, psychological issues were deemed considerate. There's no way somehow could witness an abusive father and both parents death and not have anything wrong with them. That kind of trauma digs a big hole, and that hole never fills.

        I read through his name, the age he went (two months away from sixteen), and the concerns of the foster parents. Apparently, they had no idea what happened to Harry's real parents, but they were given information of previous living conditions in a troubled home. I skipped to the diagnosis, but was shocked when there was more than one.

DIAGNOSIS BY THERAPIST'S ORDER:

- SEVERE DEPRESSION   

- MODERATE ANXIETY

- SEVERE PARANOIA

- MILDLY BIPOLAR

- MODERATELY SCHIZOID         

THERAPIST NOTES ON DIAGNOSIS:

- Patient shows little interest to be socially connected to others

- Patient expresses severe trust issues, thus hardly speaking during sessions other than to say his week was "fine". 

        But it kept going. Rambling on about his sister saying he never laughed at her jokes anymore, and his foster mother saying he doesn't make eye contact or speak to anyone at school, and that she was worried for his social well-being. 

        As he progressed in years, however, none of it was all that severe. Though his first foster parents were the ones who introduced him to the United States, his therapist had noted the new environment may have helped because he was distant from where the "incident" took place.

        And then when he got to his third adoptive parent, the sessions abruptly halted. Fiona must have stopped taking him.

         While all of it tried to wrap around my head, I felt more than foolish for complaining about a mere marriage two years ago when Harry had so much else going on. Why had he never told me? Could it be that, though as much as he preached it, he didn't even trust me fully?

        I took some notes for Doctor Miles, including the many disorders so they could see if they were still a problem, and then shut down the computer. I nodded to Evan without speaking, following him out to his car, and giving a quiet "bye" when he dropped me off. I was thankful Audrey was already back home and in bed because I was in no mood to talk.

        Unfortunately, I was in no mood to sleep, either, haunted by the secrets and the burdens his poor soul carried around.

★ ☆ ★ ☆

        "Have you heard about Ivette and Estella?" asked Jacob as he slurped his smoothie.

        I rose an eyebrow. "No. Haven't talked to either of them in a while. What's going on?"

       "They're apparently taking fashion classes or something together and have a major assignment coming up that may or may not be televised," he said, sounding a little dull as if the news bothered him just the slightest.

        "Wow. Good for them."

        "Yeah."

        "Heard from Brady any?" It was my turn to chug down my smoothie.

        Jacob thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "He's going to be a starting reciever this season because he's kept his grades up. He told me the last time we talked which was like, two months ago. But he wants to come visit everyone. He said Florida has gotten even more boring since we're not there."

        I laughed. "Florida has always been boring, if you've lived there your whole life. But you really keep up with everyone, don't you?"

        "I try," said Jacob, now looking a little sheepish. "Why let good friends go to waste when you don't have to?"

        I smiled, stirring my smoothie with my straw before a frown slowly took place on my lips. I could feel Jacob's eyes on me, but the questions were horrifyingly persistent to be asked. "Hey, Jacob..." I wasn't sure how to go about it. "You said you and Harry were really close now, right?"

        "Yeah, I guess." He rose his eyebrows. "I mean, we live together. Being roommates brings two people together."

        "Well... has he told you anything... alarming?" I wasn't sure where I was going with this, honestly. I guess a part of me didn't want him to know since Harry hadn't told me. Was that selfish? To envy that trust between the two?

        "Not that I think is alarming...? What's wrong?"

        "Oh, nothing. It's just the whole hospital thing is kind of freaky."

        Jacob pursed his lips. "You're still an awful liar, Grace. I had high hopes that you would've at least excelled a little in that department."

        I gave him a look. "I'm not lying, okay? It's hard to be apart for a long time and then reunite with him unconscious on a hospital bed."

        "Touché."

        A silence stretched between us, my eyes gazing at a couple sharing a smoothie before trailing over to a little boy smiling at a little girl. How typical the moment was, really. Yet it succeeded in downing my mood just the slightest, making me sink in my chair some.

        "Grace..."

        I looked up, surprised to see Jacob now appearing to be a bit concerned. "Hmm?"

        He sighed some, leaning forward to meet my gaze. "He really cares about you, like... a lot. In fact, it's gotten pretty annoying watching him mope around in self-pity without letting anyone talk to him. And, well, now that you're here again, you could, you know... try to talk to him. Be there for him."

        "I can't be there for him if he doesn't tell me what's wrong," I mumbled, fumbling with my fingers. 

        "But you're the only person he actually trusts. I wanna know if something else is bothering him. Can you at least try during your shift later to talk to him?"

        Running a hand through my hair, it was difficult to smile, but the words of truth spilled from my lips easily. "I'll always try to be there for him."

★ ☆ ★ ☆

        I caught up with Miles later that afternoon when my shift started, giving him the notes I had taken last night. He skimmed over them, eyes unreadable but a sigh escaped his lips. He murmured something incoherent before thanking me.

        "There's always gotta be a bump in the road," he told me. "Thank you, Grace."

        "Of course."

        And so the day went by with his room just feet away from the desk I was seated at. Evan continued to start up a conversation I couldn't finish, but I was yearning to go talk to him. I wasn't sure if I would bring up the subject. I didn't want him to think I was too nosy for my own good. Besides, shouldn't I trust him to tell me when he's ready?

        I had barely realized it was lunch until Evan was waving his hand in front of my face. "Maybe you should see a doctor about that zoning out habit," he said teasingly, though concern was blatant on his features.

        "Habits die hard," I joked, beginning to walk off.

        "Hey! Where're you going? The lunch room is this way," he called after me.

        "I have to check on a few things. I'll be there in a little bit, I promise!"

        Before he could argue, I jogged around a corner and waited for him to disappear before creeping over to Harry's room. The nurse, Daisy, was in there talking to him about starting on solid food since it didn't look like he intended to starve himself. It was a little blunt and a little rude how she had worded it, but I expected nothing more of her.

        When she walked out, I had been acting like I just came out of another room. Quick on my feet to make something believable, though she merely tossed me a dirty look before heading in the other direction. It was always easier to encounter someone that didn't like you.

        Sucking in a sharp breath of courage (or what I hoped would be courage), I knocked lightly on the door before poking my head in. Harry had his eyes closed, but spoke to prove he was not asleep. "I promise I still haven't attempted to kill myself. It'd be nice if you nurses left me alone for a little while."

        He opened his eyes just as I had opened my mouth. "Oh, um, I can come back."

        "No," he said quickly, sitting up and ruffling his hair before repeating himself a little calmer. "No... you can stay. Sorry, they're just like mosquitoes."

        I tilted my head some. "Odd comparison though scarily accurate."

        He smiled a little, and God I was grateful he still could. After clearing his throat, he gave me a look. I couldn't read between the lines what that look meant, but the tension had swelled in the room again. "So, um... did you need something?"

        I almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded - this wasn't us. "I don't know, actually," I said quietly, leaning my back against the wall. 

        Silence again, but only for a brief moment. Harry's eyes almost looked glossed over when they met mine, and he hesitated before speaking. "I have to ask Grace," he practically whispered, sounding close to a helpless child. "When I leave... where will that leave us?"

        I chewed the inside of my cheek, breaking eye contact because I could feel myself becoming vulnerable. I didn't want that to happen, not now. I inhaled sharply again, staring at the tile floor beneath me. "You made the final call, Harry," I whispered. "I don't think this is going to change that."

        He seemed almost angry as his jaw clenched. But he turned his head, looking out the window. "I didn't mean it," he mumbled, shaking his head. "I... that wasn't me that day."

        Could he be referring to his long list of disorders? Had that altered his thinking pattern some way to where his anger drove him to break us up? It was legit. However, I couldn't exactly accept that. He had made the choice, whether he was thinking clearly or not, and he did nothing in those two years to fix it. 

        "You still didn't have to stay away for so long," I told him, finally mustering the courage to lock gazes again. "That's on you."

        "I know that," he grumbled, running his hands through his hair. "But I don't know how to fix it."

        And I didn't know how to answer that.

        So I pushed myself off the wall, placing my hand on the knob. He looked crushed as he watched me, but I tried to push that aside. "I'll leave you to that nap," I said quietly, and he made no move, yet again, to stop me.

        Time almost seemed to replay itself as I closed the door and walked away from him all over again.        

(I didn't have time to edit, sorry! but I hope you all enjoyed the chapter... oh! and major thank you to my new bestie @navigate for the gorgeous cover x)