Expressing emotions into words has never been easy.
Talking to people about emotions isn't any easier.
Why did people have to 'feel' things?
Having 'feelings' made life so much more complicated.
My legs refused to go any further. I found a place on the curb, near a street light. The strong beam of headlights would illuminate me every so often but soon, they would die away. I wished those moments were longer.
I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my forehead on my knees, thankful that Skye had given me leggings to wear with this dress.
I didn't want to cry, although I could feel one coming on. There was no logical reason to cry. It'd be a waste of tears.
Clarity of mind was returning with a force which made the events that had happened earlier interesting to process.
The house across the road. I stared at it, checking to see if any lights were still on. Improbable since it was this late yet I still hoped to see a glimmer that would mean someone was awake.
A car approached, the bright light temporarily blinding me. I realised it was slowing down. It rolled past me, all the tinted windows up but I could feel the driver's eyes on me. It wasn't my car so finding reasons to explain this behaviour was unsettling.
One more glance at the house and I got back on my feet. The car was further away now but again, I knew the driver was probably looking at me in the rear view mirror. I walked in the opposite direction, my paranoia purposely filled my head with 'what if' possibilities. Maybe the driver was a serial killer who preyed on young, single females. Maybe he was the douche from the bar who'd somehow found me and wanted payback. What if he was a psychopath?
My head was on a swivel as I scanned the surrounding area, a nagging feeling led me to believe there were eyes on me. There were too many dark places. My legs burned as I picked up the speed. My clumsy feet stumbled over a pebble, the fall grazed my knees.
I groaned and picked myself up, cursing under my breath for my clumsiness. I crossed the road diagonally to reach my apartment complex as quickly as I could and ran up the stairs.
"What happened?" I hurried in, seeing Skye offered some comfort of safety. Skye sat beside me on the sofa as I deeply drank from her glass of water.
"I felt like someone was following me."
Within the next minute, the front door swung open, a dishevelled Harry walking through. That was the answer to Skye's probable next question.
I stole a glance at him as I walked to the bedroom, ignoring his question. I started the bath.
As I undressed, Skye offered me a small smile as she sat on the bed. "Join me?"
She nodded, a girlish grin on her pretty face.
From that point, the night got much better.
Yet there was a nagging feeling. Something was different with the lanky, cheerful and funny boy I remembered Harry to be.