Reina [HS]

35.

TW: mentions of abuse and alcohol addiction

(It's not a very happy one I'm sorry)

The last three weeks had been a never ending nightmare.

After finding my unconscious father on my doorstep, I thought that was it. I thought that was the point I wouldn't have the strength to stand up from. But for some reason I still had it in me.

Once I had checked his pulse and made sure that he was in fact still alive, I hung up the phone with Harry and called an ambulance. My hands were shaking and my tears didn't seem to stop, no matter how much I tried to keep things under control and not lose my mind.

By the time the medicals arrived I looked like such a mess they were almost more worried about me than my father. They insisted on putting an oxygen mask on me, just to make sure I was breathing properly and getting enough air into my lungs. When they asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital with my father, I found myself nodding even though that was the last thing I wanted.

I didn't want to be near him, I didn't even want to look at him. But I didn't know how to say no.

As I sat in the ambulance and watched the doctors examine him, I didn't know exactly how to feel. Of course, I wanted him to be okay, but on the other hand, his mere presence made my stomach twist in a way I would never be able to put into words. I hated him. I don't think I ever hated anyone so much, he made my skin crawl in the worst possible way and yet, I didn't know how to put an end to it.

I had no idea how to get rid of him. I had been running from him ever since that day when he first told me to take my clothes off and here I was, almost ten years later still not knowing how to escape him.

At this point, my biggest fear was that he would haunt me all my life. Even after he was gone I'd never be able to get away from the memories, the image of his face would be burnt in my mind. The thought terrified me, there was nothing worse than having to live with him for a lifetime.

As I watched him, my muscles tense, breathing heavy and chest tight, questions kept popping into my head, one after the other.

Why was he at my door? What the fuck did he want?

How did he know where I lived? I never told him that.

Why was he even in New York? The last time I had seen him he told me that he was here because of a short business trip, only for a few days... that was weeks ago.

None of this made sense and the bunch of unanswered questions only made my head hurt more. It was too much.

While I was losing my mind Harry kept blowing up my phone, constantly calling me and sending an endless amount of text messages that I didn't even have the energy to check. I let all of his calls go to voicemail, because I had no idea how to deal with this situation right now and I didn't really want to get him into it more than it was absolutely necessary. Handling it on my own seemed like the better option.