Inherent

More than a minute passes. Twenty, actually, and the whole while I spend the time wondering where Harry could have left to and if it’s as odd as it feels for him to be gone much longer than he said he would be. When he finished talking with security—I assume it was Ty, since I saw him most around Harry—he made it seem like whoever needed him downstairs would only take a few moments. Not long at all.

After a half an hour of sitting immobile on the sofa Harry and I just occupied, I start to become restless. Playing games and milling around on twitter on my phone only keeps my attention for so long before I start to think that this isn’t really what I planned for the night to turn out, as unadventurous as I am.

Bored and now a little worried, too, even though I know I shouldn’t be, I sigh and lean farther back into the comfortable armrest, wishing Harry would have just told me what was going on. Knowing him, he probably got caught up in conversation with whoever he went to see, or the people downstairs finally got a glimpse of the man of the hour and kidnapped him into the festivities. More likely than not I’m just overthinking, overreacting as I always do, but sitting here in this little secluded room by myself allows for far too much time to think and analyze.

I want to get out of here, to escape the never-ending pit that tends to by my own mind… but I don’t want to face the club and all of its intimidating patrons without Harry, either. That, and I did tell him I’d be here waiting for him… though, the only reason I made such a promise is because he said he wouldn’t be gone long.

So I sit there for another solid ten minutes, ironically growing a little drowsy from my boredom, before I shoot off a text to Harry and hope I don’t come off as clingy as I think I seem.

Hey, is everything OK? xx J

Another unspecified amount of time passes; I try not to count exactly how long because doing so will only make me anxious. A reasonable guess would be more than ten minutes or so, without a response from Harry. Every other time I have texted him—which is quite often—I received a reply straight away, borderline instantaneous. It’s not that I am irritated about being left in a isolated room by myself, not really, or even the fact that he isn’t texting me back because he might be caught up with something and too busy. I could easily leave if I wanted to, but his murmured order and my promise to stay put jabs at my conscience like a sore thumb.

Stay put. I also might be too fearful to so much as unlock the door, let alone venture out there by myself. Harry undoubtedly had the same line of thought. The last time I was here by myself and without my seemingly prestigious title of being his girlfriend, I’d been visually devoured by a group of young men. And if possible, I would really like to avoid the chances of such an encounter happening again. Not without Harry near.

If I weren’t so comfortable with it and have placed so much trust in Harry, I would feel queasy about being so dependent on someone in situations like these which I avoided like the plague before he came around. Now, though, I realize it is okay to have a rock. To have Harry.

Ultimately, I decide to do as he asked and wait around. Until I receive a test message—my heart jolts in anticipation at the possibility of it being him finally telling me he is on his way back—but it ends up being from Vivian. With several misspellings and grammatical errors, my intoxicated friend asks where the ‘love birds’ are hiding. On a defeated sigh, I decide to tell her the truth, that I’m alone. It takes me a few minutes to explain the details of what happened because she seems to absorb things at a decreased rate, but I have no objection. It takes my mind away from all my worries and keeps me busy.

To top off the abrupt turn in tonight’s events, Vivian doesn’t reply to the last text I send her and for another five dragging minutes I sit around and wait, closing my eyes in worried thought.

Harry, where the hell are you? It’s been nearly forty five minutes by now and this is much, much longer than what I thought he meant by ‘just a minute’. I’m not allowed much longer to ponder the question I have already thought over too many times because the handle of one of the French doors is jiggled loudly, the whole door moving with it, but it remains solid and locked.

I jump at the noise and my eyes immediately snap toward it, knowing that if it was Harry he would simply use his key to unlock the door. As soon as it is shaken again I sit straight up, tense and waiting for it to be some drunken person bent on exploring the mysterious, private room.

Seconds later, however, Vivian’s high-pitched voice comes muffled through the door. “Miss Townsend!” she calls and I raise my eyebrows at her posh accent, most likely mocking Harry. I know she means no harm, however, and I have to smile. Abnormally eager for some form of human interaction, I trail over to the door and unlock it before she can try to beat it down herself, only to stumble backward and steady Vivian at the same time when she nearly topples inside.

“Careful,” I scold half-heartedly. She only laughs off her clumsiness with a wild wave of her hand.

“I take my approval back,” she says, stood straight while she eyes me with displeasure, as if I have any say in what has unfolded. “I liked him, you know, until he abandoned you.”

As she speaks with surprising coherence, she tries unsuccessfully to pull me by the wrist and out of the room. Even at a distance I can smell the wine on her breath so I try not to feel too hurt by her brash, thoughtless opinion on Harry and exactly how easy it feels right now to discard me.

“He didn’t abandon me, Vivian.” Despite Harry being gone for so long, I still feel the need to defend him. Though it is incomparable, Vivian has done things similar to this before when we go out, so I suppose you could say I should be used to it. There’s no reason to become annoyed over this having happened—Harry is a wildcard at the best of times, and this is our first real public outing since the baseball game. More than anger or hurt, I feel a foolish worry for him instead.

“Either way you’re alone, so you’re coming down to have some fun with your dear old best friend—and her new minions.” She tugs harder on my hand, though I stay put with an indecisive frown.

“I told Harry I would stay here.”

“And he told you he would come back.”

“He still could,” I say, but it’s hard to convince even myself now. If Harry knew he would be gone for any longer than a few minutes, I bet he would have told me to go down and hang out with the girls anyhow. So against my better judgement, I allow Vivian’s surprisingly tight grip to wrench me clear from the room, and hardly have the chance to lock the door before being whisked off downstairs.

From the fall Vivian almost took, she seems to have sobered up quite a bit, and admittedly treks down the stairs with more grace than I do. Harry must have had more of a helping hand ascending them that I realized… I sigh quietly to myself at the thought of him, as if it has been years since I last saw him when in reality it’s not even been an hour yet. For some reason, deep down I feel as if there might be something wrong; a gut feeling.

At the base of the stairs, my willpower to remain as un-needy as possibly dissipates when we brush past Ty. He only offers us a polite nod, as expected, but I stop and force Vivian to pause, too, and work up the courage to talk to him.

“Have you seen Harry anywhere?” While the club’s sheer volume ensures I must, I still feel awkward for having to shout at a stranger.

He smiles nonetheless, straightening now that we have his attention. “No, miss, not since he left with a friend.”

“He left?” I repeat, in partial shock, and it’s only now Ty realizes he might have made a mistake by letting me know this information. “With who?”

“I didn’t see who it was—sorry,” he apologizes, but it is easy to see through it. I have a feeling if he does know, he wouldn’t tell me anyway so as not to land himself into any further possible trouble with his boss. I chew on my lip in both indecision and worry, though there isn’t much else that can be done. Harry is off missing somewhere and now Vivian has stolen me away too. Great.

“See. Abandoned. Want me to kick his ass for you?” I ignore Vivian’s comment for a few seconds to shyly thank Ty for the useless information.

“No, Vivian. As comical as that would be… I don’t want you to kick his ass.”

Flippant, she shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

On a soft exhale of air, I willingly stride off deeper into the club in search of a place to sit so I can attempt to make sense of what exactly is happening. We end up at the bar, which seems to be at the center of all the chaotic actions that comes with a night club of such a magnitude of popularity, and after we order a drink—or rather, Vivian orders one for me even after I protest with the reasoning I need to unwind—we venture farther back in the venue where Perrie and Eleanor are waiting for us. As we walk Vivian quickly fills me in with a scattered shout on what’s happened since Harry and I left, and Eleanor decided to stay while Louis takes care of whatever he left to do.

She is the total opposite of her boyfriend, perking up at the sight of me joining them. But I find it hard to reciprocate and be as cheerful as everyone else, and once we settle in with the two girls across from us in a booth, Vivian and I on one side, I distract myself with tracing the lip of the glass of alcohol I didn’t even want in the first place.

“Do you want to look for him?” Perrie offers kindly after a few moments, noticing my lapse in mood. Her intent is probably to try and help me feel better, but the offer ends up having the opposite effect.

“No, that’s okay,” I smile sadly even though the effort to appear fine with everything is very hard to put forth. Back here in the booth it isn’t quite as loud and buzzing as it is near the dance floor and DJ, and I would rather stay here for the time being. Ruining everyone else’s night with my little worries is the last thing I want to achieve. “I don’t think we’d have much luck, anyway. Security said they saw Harry leave.”

“Hmm… I wonder why,” Perrie quietly ponders, now looking as if she regrets bringing him up at all.

Eleanor straightens at this new information, capturing my attention. “Oh, why didn’t you say? It’s actually not so unusual for Harry to disappear while he’s here, and he always finds his way back eventually,” she explains easily, and a small wave of relief hits my weary system. “I don’t know where he goes—I’ve always just assumed it was business related or something of the sort.”

I remember now that while she and Louis are also from England, they both reside in Chicago too and have spent quite a bit of time with Harry at events like these. If anyone would know what happened to him, it would be those two. Though he wasn’t the friendliest I wish Louis was still around—he might have more information as to where Harry might have gone off to, and why he has suddenly decided not to reply to my text messages. They seem especially close, as unfortunate as that might be for me. “Seriously, he’ll pop back up soon. Don’t worry.”

This time I give both the girls a genuine smile. I really do appreciate their efforts, and they thankfully haven’t been in vain. “Thank you. I feel better now.”

At least now my mind has a new theory to mull over and the possibility of Harry being in any sort of trouble is slimmer, so now I can worry perhaps a little less. Past my odd newfound fear for his safety, I’m not even close to being irritated for being left alone. This just isn’t how my night was originally supposed to pan out, but then again when it comes to myself nothing really ever goes to plan, does it?

Regardless, I hope fleetingly he turns up soon so his absence doesn’t put a kink in my plans any further than it already might have. If there is ever a night to get everything off my chest, this is it. It would prove difficult, though, to try and tell him the truth when he isn’t even around to listen. I try not to think that while this sort of behaviour from Harry isn’t odd to Eleanor or Perrie, it is to me.

A perfect example to provide would be back at the baseball game weeks ago—it still runs through my mind, how he didn’t even want me to go by myself to get some snacks, and it looks as if it physically pained him to leave me alone so he could do it himself. I know just as well as he has a short temper with others that he wouldn’t stick me up in a room in the middle of a crowded, quite possibly dangerous night club while he leaves for who knows how long. From experience, I know this is weird for him.

But if I think for too long on it, on the probability of there being something wrong, I grow queasy and my hearts begins to race in such a way which leaves me thankful I have my medication to have faith in. As my nervousness grows and develops to the point where I feel faint, I abruptly push my glass away—which I’d only taken a taste-testing sip from in another effort to distract myself—and I look almost frantically toward Vivian.

Perrie and Eleanor both appear a little startled by my sudden movement, and I try not to feel so exposed under their close attention, fidgeting slightly in my seat as I itch to get up and move, to get something done.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?”

“No, where is it?” Vivian asks, as if I have the information and am letting her in on a secret. It forces a small, humoured smile from me.

“I was asking you.” The bathroom I’m not really interested in using, but I need to move, to feel as if I am doing something, rather than just sitting around. All of the sudden without Harry at my side, I feel as if I am suffocating underneath The Castle’s intense atmosphere. My vision blurs under the harsh lighting until it forces me to blink rapidly in an effort to keep myself together. The shout of the DJ announcing something is not quite so loud back here, but loud enough, and everything just seems so overpowering now. Okay… so maybe I do need the bathroom.

“Well I think it’s really, really far from here,” she concludes on a confident nod, like the simple task is some daunting quest. I get the sense she probably just doesn’t want to get up, her befuddled mind content with our cozy booth and company, chatting up the girls. She wrinkles her nose and nods to my practically untouched glass. “Are you going to drink that?”

With a subtle roll of my eyes—no real irritation behind the action—I shake my head and slide the glass over to my friend, even though she might have already had enough. Vivian accepts it with a gleeful smile, most likely because now she doesn’t have to get up and go up to the busy bar for another.

When I think no one has heard my quiet plea for someone to accompany me to the bathroom, still immaturely against going anywhere alone, Perrie nods her head toward the crowd. Her expression is kind and suggestive. “Hey, you want me to show you? I know the way,” she queries graciously, already sliding out from her seat.

I smile in genuine appreciation. “Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll stay here and keep this one company,” Eleanor says and nods to Vivian with an amused smile. From the looks of my slightly reckless friend, it is probably a very smart decision on Eleanor’s behalf. Thankful to be on the outside, I maneuver my way out of the booth to join Perrie on our newest journey, feeling more unsteady than ever in my heels and as if a small gust of wind could throw me clear off my feet, my hands shaking too. As much as I hate to admit it, this small twist in the elaborate plan I made for tonight has more of an effect on me than I let on to anyone.

Vivian isn’t joking around; the nearest bathroom is across the dance floor and requires us to take the long way around in order to avoid having to wrestle our way through any of the crowd. At this time of night, later than the last time I was here, the club seems to be at the height of its energy; people crowded in and packed like sardines even at the tables. I see now why Vivian doesn’t want to deal with the chaos that is the bar again, and even my desire to go to the bathroom isn’t quite so high. But this is exactly why I wanted to in the first place—hopefully it will be quieter in there, or at least peaceful enough for me to breathe a little easier and clear my mind, if only for a brief moment.

It’s all almost too much for me to handle without Harry to guide me through everything like he did earlier, with his hand in mine or draped securely around my waist. I feel exposed, as silly as it sounds. For him not to be right next to me feels unnerving, and the deep thrumming beat of the enormous bass feels as if it pierces through my chest when we pass by the DJ, causing my heart to feel funny and my ears to ring. I have to once again blink past the constant shutter of numerous strobe lights, and by the time we get to the hallway where the bathroom is located, I feel like I am going to either suffocate or faint… maybe both in rapid succession. As soon as Perrie and I are safely within the confines of the bathroom—which is occupied by several other women at the sinks using the ceiling length mirror—I sigh in relief.

Perrie looks at me with sympathy. “It can be a little intense out there, yeah?”

I nod, feeling more exhausted than ever. ‘Intense’ is about the only way to describe the atmosphere beyond the barrier the bathroom’s door creates. Would it be too much to hide out in here until Harry comes back? Probably… but damn, do I want to.

“Just a little,” I reply, a little shakily though I try valiantly to appear composed. After lending me a supportive smile, Perrie skitters off toward one of the stalls and I wander over to the wall lined with a long marble counter, running my hands under the cold water the sink thankfully provides. Not once do I even spare anyone in the room a second glance or look at myself in the mirror. It would give me the chance to pick out my flaws yet again, which is what I know would happen in my confused, lost state. Yet I don’t even bother to compare myself to anyone else, at least not until the ice cold water has its intended effect and does the trick in shocking me back to life. So much so I glance heatedly up to my reflection, and when I see an unrecognizable person staring back at me, prettied up with makeup and a beautiful dress, I see past all of it—the disguise. I see myself for what I really am; lost, damaged, and I once again wonder what the hell I am doing here. Without Harry, what is the point?

The question hits me with more force than I could imagine, and with shame I try to kick myself from this odd funk Harry’s absence has put me in. I can’t help but to think, though, that without Harry… I am simply the ugly duckling without her magical Prince Charming to enchant her existence.

Panicked, I push away from the counter and whirl around toward the exit, blowing through it so quickly I probably leave the other occupants shocked and confused with my needless rush, leaving poor Perrie alone.

All I can focus on, however, is the extreme trembling beat of my heart trying to break free from its confines along with the need to get away from my reflection and the harsh reality which comes with it overpowers any of my greater senses. I take in deep lungful’s of air and expel them in pants, but none of it seems to replenish my dwindling supply of oxygen. Instead of returning to the club like I should, my limbs carry me in the exact opposite direction, making a sharp left turn, and deeper into a part of the club probably reserved for employees. The one thing I know is I can’t face all the overwhelming unruliness that is The Castle right now, not anymore. At this point I don’t even know what has gotten into me, but I know for certain I don’t want anyone to witness me in such a weakened state.

Hell, it’s hard to face myself. And while it might not be the smartest idea I’ve ever had to go down the rest of the hallway—which is indeed restricted by a large ‘employees only’ sign—it’s as if my mind runs a total blank, shorting out as soon as the first beat of the music deafens me when I leave the supposed refuge I originally sought in the bathroom. My legs carry me away like they know exactly where they need to take me, so I let them.

Though obviously not an area meant for the judging public eye, the hallway is decorated similarly to the lobby with its soft light—thankfully easy on my sensitive eyes—and the dark wood crown molding fits beautifully with the stark white walls and dark stone floors, which feel slipperier than ever underneath my finicky heels. After several long moments of creating much needed distance between the main club and myself, I find myself unable to go on any farther. I release the soft feeble cry I have been withholding far too long now and stop to rest against the wall, my back pressed against it with my head bowed. My hair falls forward and obstructs any sight of my actual face, and for that I feel grateful.

It hits me, now, and I wonder what the hell just happened. To me. One moment I was fine, or at least doing a good job at pretending to be. My heart hasn’t become so dependent on Harry that I can’t function when he isn’t around and I am thrust into a remotely stressful situation. It isn’t that the spell cast over me, the short-lived bout of happiness I received over these past few weeks hasn’t worn off. If anything, this is nothing more than one of the small attacks I have when things become too overwhelming too quickly. It’s my probably stupid worry for Harry and where he could possibly be, it’s how hopeless and pathetic I feel right now. It is everything rolled into one jumble of frayed nerves, shaking hands, and self-conscious thoughts, and the feeling is so uncontrollable I find it hard to even find the will to breathe.

Through my panic stricken daze, however, I manage to stop myself from venturing any deeper into never-ending hallway. The only reason I came down here was to perhaps see if there was an emergency exit I could slip through for some fresh air, and totally ignore the two turns which create a fork in the hallway ahead of me. Long past the bathroom, my eyes don’t find any glowing red ‘exit’ signs, and so my hope dwindles a little more. For a moment, while I have only traveled about fifteen meters or so from the bathroom, it feels as if this hallway will go on forever.

Up ahead, however, in the hallway to the right, several muffled voices filter through and I immediately tense, body turning rigid as I process what my ears strain to hear. One of them easily overpowers the other; deep, angry and ever familiar. There is no way I could ever mistake Harry’s voice for anyone else, and as soon as it hits me that he is here—that he is back or maybe he didn’t leave at all—I am instantly filled with a welcomed flood of relief, my shoulders losing the tension which kept them bunched and my back straight against the wall. My worry for Harry and where he could be are finally extinguished, and hope rekindles that tonight can still go as planned.

Then I realize Harry is arguing with someone. He sounds angrier and more lethal than I have ever heard him. The voice underneath his rough growling is much more feminine, though strong on its own. They are talking in such hushed tones it is near impossible to decipher what they could be talking about, or why Harry seems to be so furious. One thing is for sure… while I want nothing more than to see him right now I don’t want to make myself known. Feeling like I don’t have much to lose by getting a little closer, though, my heels make no noise for once as I creep to the edge of the wall, tip-toeing to avoid the pretentious clicks.

I focus past the nervous fluctuation of my heart and onto what they are saying, mind going blank while it uses all of its power to put together the pieces to this misplaced puzzle.

Momentarily, somewhere in the back of my mind I realise this is eavesdropping and not exactly appropriate… or morally right, but I long to see for myself exactly what the heck is going on and what pulled him away from his party in the first place. Harry has always been so strict and careful about taking time off and not getting into business or work when he does have these rare moments to himself, so his leaving for such a reason doesn’t make sense to me.

Deeper than that, I also maybe hope that the sound of his voice, even infuriated, can help being me back from this sudden panic attack and closer to my usual amount of sanity.

“He must be crazy if he thinks I’m going in on something like that again. It stops tonight—don’t ask me to do anything else, because this is the last thing I’m going to do for you, Lucy. I’m done.”

What? I have never heard of this girl, Lucy, before, and Harry’s never mentioned her. And this mysterious ‘he’ who wants Harry to ‘go in’ on something? Obviously, this is a conversation not meant for my ears, and perhaps one I shouldn’t witness at all. Part of me brushes it off and figures they are talking about business, some new venture. But could Harry get so angry over his work like this? I know it is possible—he can be quite serious, but something just seems off.

“Great,” the feminine voice speaks with bold sarcasm, something I would never have the nerve to do when confronted by an angry Harry. “I can’t wait to break him the news.”

Then a soft though very audible thump is heard, as if a knee or a back hits a wall, and it’s hard to me to stifle a gasp which so wants to escape. “I don’t think you realize how serious I’m being right now,” Harry says slowly, calculated and with a precise control which masks exactly how furious he is. I can’t believe what I am hearing, and in my shock I move carefully to peer around the corner—for a moment I’m not even sure anymore that this is Harry. My Harry. But there he is, albeit with his back turned to me so I unfortunately don’t have a clear view of his face, but it would be impossible to mistake his familiar head of chocolate curls and long, lean figure, the broad shoulders whose strength I love to feel. Without doubt, it is him. He is also wearing the same clothing he wore before he mysteriously disappeared.

My overworked mind and heart don’t even have the chance to relax or be relieved in the slightest, however, because the shadowed figure in front of him is obviously a girl—and he has her pressed up against the exit door I earlier searched for. None too gently either, with his hand bracing her shoulder and a solid foot of distance between their torsos; Harry leans over her in a towering, intimidating fashion, but she has the nerve to smirk even while in such a compromising position. Being nearly as tall as Harry himself, she can see easily over his shoulder, and in my frazzled state my better senses are slow and late to kick in. She spots me coolly, not reacting whatsoever, but our eyes connect over the lengthy distance. Me cowering around the corner, her standing tall to Harry when I would have either fled the situation altogether or tried to appease him to end the confrontation. The blonde’s smirk grows even more, and she glances back to Harry as if nothing happened. In that brief split second, however, my sense of time seemed to slow down, and I am hardly able to remember my plan to keep quiet and stealthy when it comes to eavesdropping on my boyfriend.

Frightened now more than ever, I hastily jerk back and refuse to wait around any longer to see or hear more than what I can handle—my heart picking back up in its hammering pace as it is all I can focus on, not my breathing or any form of rational thought. I all but stumble blindly down the hallway, my departure audible but that fact seems inconsequential, tiny compared to what I just witnessed. Making it all the way back to the familiar bathroom doors, I press my palm to my mouth and blink, free hand clenched in a tight first to keep from allowing my multitude of confliction emotions to consume me.

When no one calls out for me, I figure it is safe to assume neither Lucy nor my noisy escape alerted Harry to my presence. The only reason I stop is because I crash into another body after I blindly turn the corner. More unbalanced than ever on my heels, I stumble backward and the person I barrelled into grabs a hold of my shoulder and upper arm to keep me from toppling over once and for all.

“Jules!” Perrie must have heard Harry use the nickname at some point throughout tonight, sometime when things were easier and much less complicated, and hearing it does nothing to help calm me down. In fact, it has just about the exact opposite effect. Because all I can think about is how he has been the only one to call me that for so long, and now I don’t even know what is going on—my mind draws a long, solid blank.

Except, of course, all the questions which take up all the space left in my reeling brain, and one which sticks out the most. What the hell was that?

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you alright? Where’d you go?” Perrie’s onslaught of concerned questions brings me a little closer to reality and farther away from totally wigging out, and as much as I focus on evening out my breathing I still quickly look over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t been spotted by Harry or Lucy.

I know I have to get out of there, though, because the longer we stay out here the greater the chances Harry will pop back up. A total opposite change from just minutes ago, I cannot handle even the mere possibility of such a confrontation unfolding. So I plaster on a shaking, obviously forced smile and step forward, still trembling. The need to flee overpowers any other sense of self-preservation, including the very real risk of tripping up in my heels.

“Oh—sorry, I just… just got a little lost.” I curse myself for the terrible, transparent lie and keep moving forward. If she were Harry, she would have easily seen past my poorly formed façade and gotten straight to the point of whatever was wrong. But this is sweet, non-confrontational Perrie, and after only a moment of concerned confusion she follows close behind with a slight frown.

“If you’re sure that’s all,” she says, obviously letting it go even though I know she is still worried, and my guilt multiplies for having to lie to her.

“Sometimes I like to wander off,” I quickly try to cover with a nervous laugh. “This place… this place is beautiful.”

If I weren’t so jarred by what I just witnessed, I would feel absolutely terrible about lying to Perrie… and I do, but if I told her the truth she could react in several different ways, and one of which would be a nightmare. She might want to go back and see what is going on with Harry for herself, or worse.

She might consider this normal behaviour for him, too.

No, I just want to get away from this stupid hallway. Though wide and expansive, it feels as if it’s trying to close in on me by the second, and my breathing hitches at the panicked thought. Perrie smiles, appearing a little less concerned. I wish I could fool myself into thinking everything was fine, too. “It is, absolutely. Even the service halls,” she laughs in agreement and from thereon I feel stable—on the surface.

Inside is a totally different story, inside I am on the edge of my poorly constructed composure, wondering what exactly I just saw, and am too afraid of the possible answer to even consider asking.

Notes

So for once Julia's worries have been validated! Haha. I'm excited yet entirely too nervous for everyone to read this chapter, so I would appreciate it greatly if you could comment and share what you think! I love feedback!

Thank you everyone for your well wishes! I'm still sick... possibly feeling worse than ever, but I appreciate your kind thoughts so much! Also, it's April 1st and my area had a freaking blizzard over these past couple of days... that's Canada for you.

Anyhow, I love you ladies! Thank you for your support!

P.S.... there is much drama to come :)