Heartless (The Heartless Series) Read Online Free PDF

admit it, but I need her. She is the only normal I have, and if I tell her what's going on in my brain, then she might leave me. Might nothing. She will, and who would blame her? We just met through a mutual fandom group. She has every right and, if I tell her, reason to just shut me off from chat completely. Then what would I have? The boyfriend who doesn't exactly talk much lately? Hart? Is Hart truly my only friend?
    A tear runs down my face. How screwed up do I sound?
    I can't lose her. It might sound stalkery or unhealthy, but I don't care. I can't lose the one constant thing in my life. The one thing that keeps me grounded. The one person I can talk to about anything. Well, anything except this.
    @sullyGray So I just watched the season 3 finale. My heart hurts.
    And it did. Slightly. I cried. The dude went to Hell, and his brother cried over it. And I cried because they cried. But I watched that ending last week. I just needed something to tell her to cover up my stupid lapse in judgment. Sometimes, I wish I couldn't talk or communicate. That way I'd never say the wrong words. I know it's stupid and wrong to think things like that. I don't mean it. Not really. But it would be nice to say the right thing once in a while.
    @tinaM LOL I told you. Just wait until a few seasons from now. Your feels will have feels.
    And so we kept on talking about this TV show that had nothing to do with anything, but it was talking. And it was normal.
    We finally say our goodbyes at a half past four.
    I roll out of my bed reluctantly because my covers are so soft and warm. I need warm. Warmth makes me think of Lucien, which brings me back to the beginning. Did what happened really happen? If it did, how did I explain my hand not having a hole in it?
    I can't do this anymore. I can't. I need my medicine. My head wants to explode. Since I don't want my head to explode, I head down the stairs as quietly as I can. Just in case he is there.
    Sure enough, I hear the snoring. In the past week, he's only slept in his room maybe two times. The rest of the time, he's snoring on the couch. I'm not even sure why he insisted on a two-bedroom apartment. Not like he really uses his room. Truth be told, I haven't even been in there since I helped lug his boxes in. Knowing him, he hasn't unpacked them yet. Not sure if that should make me nervous or not.
    All that is beside the point. I try very hard to walk quietly into the kitchen. Thank the Lord we can only afford an apartment with fake laminate floors and not real hardwood. Hardwood pops. This just squeaks. Apparently, he doesn't wake up to squeaking. I'm okay with that. Library workers for the win!
    I don't turn the light on in the kitchen. It makes it more difficult to find anything, but I manage. I might have gotten lucky with the floor. There's no way I'll get that lucky with the light. He'll wake up for sure. And then he'll want to talk. Talking is good, except I don't think I can at the moment. I just want my medicine and my bed and my sleep. A dreamless sleep, please. No nightmares. No Hart. No girl. No eating of any of my innards.
    I just want to flippin' rest. Everything can be figured out in the morning, hopefully. I just need one night of peace. I don't think that's too much to ask.
    The kitchen light might be too bright, but I do take the chance and turn on the light over the sink. My medicine is there anyway, and I don't think he can see it from the living room. It's either that or the possibility of taking an extra pill by mistake. No thank you. The world wants me to be correctly medicated.
    I find my five bottles and pop those bad boys in my mouth. One of each pill. At the same time. No time to waste taking them individually. I have to get out of there before he wakes up. I don't want to talk to him. I mean. I don't mind, but lying and keeping this from him is hard. I wish he was one of those supportive boyfriends, and maybe he would be if I gave him a chance. Maybe I'm pushing him away