morethanthis

Harrys perpektiv

I woke up with my neck in a really strange angle. I found myself staring up in a red square ceiling and it reminded me I’d been standing in a red phone booth. But then what happened? I was lying on the floor, must’ve fainted. My neck was sore from being in such an unnatural position for I don’t know how long. I stood up and discovered the outer world was all bright. But then I got concerned. For how long had I been knocked out? I pushed the booth door open and stepped outside. The daylight hurt my eyes and I was forced to squint, but at the same time I was filled with hope.

I received horrified looks as I made my way down the LA streets. I started playing a little guessing game with myself. On a scale from 1 to 10, how beaten up did I look? The most fun part was to guess were the worst bruises and cuts were located. My black eye was obvious. People stared a lot at my profile and when I looked down I noticed my shirt was ripped and showed off a pretty bad scrape. How wonderful. But I think that was about it. I didn’t discover any new wounds for a whole fifteen minutes. I looked up on a mile-post that was labeled ‘Sandcastle Boulevard’. It didn’t say me much. I kept wandering until I reached some kind of park. But I stayed out of it as I noticed all the happy children running around. I didn’t want to scare them and risk giving them nightmares. Instead I rounded the park, while staying hidden in the shadows. I came across a familiar square, but I couldn’t exactly point out where it was located... I kicked on a rock in plain frustration. It flew several meters until it got stopped by a wall. A clear mark became visible where the stone had hit. I couldn’t care less. My mind was set for one thing and one thing only. Get hold of Emma and let her know I’m okay. It killed me knowing she had no clue of what had happened to me. Then it hit me, I didn’t really know either. At the moment it didn’t matter. I had told her I was going to come home that night, and I never did. Instead I strolled forever in what felt like circles. A broken promise. I tortured myself for have told her a lie. I know I hadn’t lied on purpose, but I felt rotten, like I didn’t deserve her. I imagined those hazel eyes of hers in my mind. Something about them made me melt every time. Whenever I’m with her, I feel like I’m going liquid and becoming a puddle below her feet. It may sounds cheesy but I can’t think of any other way to describe what she does to me. I’ve never felt like this for a girl before. What if she thinks I’m… dead? A scenario of her crying flashed before my eyes. I almost felt sick. I couldn’t stand her being sad, because when she was it hurt me as much as it hurt her. I could feel her pain like we were one united human being. I forced myself not to think about that, it blurred the focus I needed to find my way back to the hotel. The stupidest thing was that I couldn’t remember the address. And obviously I didn’t have my phone so I could make calls either. But for some reason Emma’s number sat like super glue in my head. And I couldn’t be more thankful. Unfortunately I hadn’t found another phone booth yet, they weren't very common here in LA. Believe me when I say I’ve tried to ask nicely if I could by any chance borrow a cell. Every single one had stared at me with frightened eyes and rapidly walked the other way. Helplessness washed over me. How would I ever get back? Los Angeles was a huge, huge city. It’s as easy as pie to get hopelessly lost here. A man sat with his face in a magazine, completely absorbed by today’s news. He had a radiance of comfort around him. I stepped forward and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“Excuse me sir…” I said.
He looked up. Strangely enough he didn’t seem horrified. Instead, he smiled at me, and padded the bench as a sign for me to sit down. So that’s what I did.
“What happened to you?” He asked with concern in his voice.
“I don’t really know. I woke up like this.”
“Should I get you to a hospital?”
“No I’m fine. If I could only borrow your cell for a moment…”
“Of course young man.”
The man handed me an old phone with scratches and broken buttons. I did my best dialing the number, but it was challenging. At last I finally got it right and I put the speaker against my ear. The signals passed.
“Hi this is Emma…”
“Emma it’s me!” I yelled happily, thrilled she had picked up.
“...aaaand Harry!” I heard my own voice saying in through the speaker, then Emma continued, “I can’t answer my phone right now, but please leave a message after the beep lovely!”
“God dammit...”
“Something wrong?”
The man noticed my disappointed face and lifted my chin up.
“She’s not picking up…”