Sticks And Stones

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will ALWAYS hurt me.


7. Hurt.



I threw my bags on the bed, and zipped one open carefully. Staring at the clothes I packed, I finally started sorting through them. I mostly had dark coloured clothes, with an exception of a few. I dug deeper, and finally pulled out a pair of light, jean coloured shorts. They had a few rips in them, but that was just the design. I kept searching through my clothes, till I found the shirt I was looking for. It was a black sweatshirt, and it said ‘Hipsta Please’ in white lettering; just like one of the shirts Harry has. I smiled as I pulled out a white beanie, my mind drifting over towards Harry. I laughed as I remembered sitting and watching him trying an American accent.


“I’m from the Valley!” I joked to myself. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as memories rushed through my head. Watching videos, reading their tweets. Sitting alone at a computer, and just looking at photos of them. I could feel the tears streaming down my face, and me smiling. They weren’t ‘sad’ tears. They were happy. Joyful. Nostalgic. I wiped a tear, and walked over to my other suitcase. As I zipped it open, I noticed my shoes. I quickly grabbed my light purple toms, feeling in no mood to put on an uncomfortable shoe- especially since I was soaking wet. Peeling the wet clothes off, I quickly put my clothes on, and walked back over to my suitcase, to find something else. I opened a little pouch, and pulled out my ring; my promise ring. It wasn’t from myself; it was from- I cringed as I thought of him. The tears now started quickly streaming down my face, and I could feel my heart breaking even more. I started finding it hard to breath as I slid my ring on my little finger, my breath becoming fast, like I couldn’t breath. And the worst part was, I didn’t even know how to stop. It was like this every time I thought about him, and every time the memories rushed back. As I heard a knock on my door, I quickly wiped my tears away. I passed the mirror, and inspected myself. I had braided my hair, but my cheeks were flushed. I started lightly tapping my face to spread the colour, but it wasn’t working. I heard another knock at the door, and I took another look. ‘Screw it,’ I thought. ‘Who am I trying to impress, the queen of England?’ I quickly smirked as I walked towards the door as fast as I could. The room was pretty big, so it was took a minute to get there. Standing by the door, I looked through the peep-hole. All I saw was brown hair, and nothing else.


“WHO IS IT?” I yelled.


“Just please open the door love,” said a deep, husky voice. I pondered for I second, and my hand reached for the lock. Something was telling me that it was okay to open the door. I reached out and opened the door, and he looked up.

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