Even If It Hurts -H.S. AU

62

"You didn't want to make out in the new ride, Dollface?" He has a wicked smirk plastered on his face and I fake a smile back. Dollface. I fucking hate when he calls me that. Like I'm some trophy Barbie. Which is exactly what he wants me to be.

"I actually don't feel that well," I lie, poking my bottom lip out to pout. "too much popcorn."

"I bet I could make you feel better." Johnny whispers, pushing me back against his car, and pressing his body against mine.

"Johnny," I try to push him back, but he doesn't budge. "I said I don't feel good."

He grabs my wrist a little too hard and removes my hand from his chest. "You're no fucking fun lately, what is with you?"

He squeezes my wrist harder and I yelp in pain. "You're hurting me."

"You're hurting me!" I shout as I bolt upright, my heart racing at the dream. At the memory I've tried to bury along with all of the others.

"Hey, it's me." Harry coos as he leans over the side of the hospital bed toward me. "You're okay, baby."

"Harry-" I choke out his name and grab his hand. "It's Johnny. It's him. He-he's back."

"I know." He says softly and reaches out to brush my hair out of my face.

"It was right in front of me the whole time, and I didn't even see it." I say as tears start to fall down my face.

"Vi, there's no way you could've known-"

"I should've known! It was so fucking obvious." I run my hands over my face, my fingers pausing on the five and a half year old scar on my forehead. "Who the fuck else would care about me enough to follow me for months? Break into my apartment and slash my couch cushions, taking nothing? Be brave enough to touch me at the carnival? And my body reacted so violently because I knew, I fucking knew I had felt it before because it was him. I can't believe I didn't put it together." I wipe underneath my eyes as my tears dry up, being replaced by nothing but anger.

Harry starts to speak, but I interrupt him again.
"Oh my god, the rose." I cry out and cover my face with my hands.

"The what?" Harry asks, confused.

"After Alex and I broke up, Lynette brought a box into my office that had been delivered for me." I explain and drop my hands to look at his tired, worried eyes. "Inside was a single dead rose. I thought it was a mistake or Alex being weird, but it was exactly the same as the one Johnny left on my bed with the voodoo doll after my nineteenth birthday."

His eyes widen as he looks at me and my stomach drops. That was months ago. Before my apartment was broken into, but right at the start of Harry and I getting to know each other again. I should've told him.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't even think it was connected. I didn't know." I tell him as another tear falls down my face. "I didn't know it was him, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Harry climbs up onto the hospital bed with me and pulls me into his chest.

"Shh," he soothes as I cry into his blood stained shirt, "it's not your fault, baby."

"Excuse me." The same doctor from before enters the room, averting her eyes from the very personal moment Harry and I are sharing. "Did we want to do a blood test? It's standard procedure for patients who have episodes similar to yours, to make sure there's no underlying causes, but totally optional."

"Oh, no. I'm okay." I tell her and lean up from Harry's chest. "I, uh- I have an anxiety disorder and forgot my inhaler. But... are those cops still here? I need to speak with them."