(heartLess - madison beer)

H.

My head was pounding. I winced slightly as I sat up in the bed I didn't recognise, the sudden movement causing the room to spin. Fucking hell - where was I?

"Hey, you," a voice sounded from beside me and I frowned - what the fuck?

A tanned girl lay under the covers beside me as she too sat up, the duvet the only thing covering her bare body. Dirty blonde waves matted together, dark blue eyes - it was coming back to me.

"I didn't think you'd be coming home with me last night after that bimbo came wandering in last night," she giggled, and I began to feel sick. I felt dirty - disgusted with myself. I'd fucked it up, again.

That 'bimbo' had been Ana, and the realisation only made my head pound further.

"Has anyone ever told you how good you are in bed?" she murmured now, and the urge to be sick became more prominent in the pit of my stomach.

I threw the covers off myself, swinging the door open which connected to the room, and collapsed in a heap in front of the toilet bowl. I emptied my stomach within a minute, and I could feel my chest heave; my arms shake. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the repercussions of what I'd done only hours ago, but in that moment - I hated myself. It had been a long, long time since I'd drank that much - when I was sixteen, maybe - though it was then I realised the effect it had on me, and tried my best to stop.

I hadn't a clue what I'd said to Ana - what bullshit excuse I'd spun her; what she'd seen go down, I didn't know. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to, but I knew for a fact she'd been there last night, and I knew for a fact she would be done with me.

I knew why I'd been drinking. Of course I fucking knew why - my dad. But I didn't dare use that as an excuse - there was no bloody excuse, I just fucked it up. I fucked it, I fucked it, I fucked it.

I fucking hated myself.

The nameless blonde appeared in the doorway, "hey, do you need some water, or-"

"Fuck off!"I roared, my voice barely a croak. It wasn't her fault - of course it wasn't. But I just didn't want to be here at this moment, and I didn't want that bitch within a ten mile radius of me. She made me sick - I made myself sick to my fucking stomach. I didn't know her name, nor did I want to, as I pulled myself up from the floor and headed straight back into the bedroom, pulling my clothes on hastily.

"What- can I at least get your number-" was the last annoying squeak I heard as I slammed the front door shut, stumbling down the steps. I was still drunk, I knew I was - despite vomiting so heavily, I knew the whiskey, beer, and bourbon I most likely drank would remain in my system for at least another few hours.

I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, desperate to get hold of Ana. "Fuck, come on, come on, come on, have some fucking battery," I huffed to myself as I switched it on, thankful it had just over 10%. That'd be enough until I got to Ana.

It was 11am on a Wednesday morning, and it was likely that Ana would be in school - though, she was in the habit of ditching, I didn't think it likely that she would take the whole day off today. Still - I tried to call her. Fuck, I must've called her a million times.

Ring. Ring. Voicemail.

I cursed before trying again - ring, ring. Voicemail.

She was declining my calls - I didn't know why I was surprised; although I didn't know what had gone down, exactly, I knew it was bad, and I wouldn't want to talk to me, either.

"Come on, baby, answer your phone," I murmured under my breath as I walked, desperate for some kind of response.

Nothing.

-

A.

I hit decline on his call for what felt like the hundredth time, the tears brimming in my eyes for what felt like the thousandth. Stop crying over him, Ana.

I wasn't even sure why I was crying - I don't know what I'd really expected from him. He'd never change - he wasn't the person I thought he was. Harry was just like Louis had said, and though I hated to admit that - I should've listened to him.

Harry and I were never official - we'd been on a date, and I liked him so, so much - he just couldn't return it the way I wanted him to. I felt stupid, curled up on my bed, my record player blaring sound which echoed along the hallway, tears brimming and falling in a vicious cycle. I was pathetic.

School was out of the question today for me - I felt stupid saying so, but I couldn't do it. When Celia had knocked on my door so early this morning, the nausea had only built. I couldn't bring myself to look at her - I couldn't. What was I supposed to do - tell her how I'd completely and utterly fallen for her son, only for him to watch me hit the ground? How could I tell her a thing when I looked at her and all I saw was him? I saw Harry - with the piercing green of his eyes down to the untamed waves of his hair - I saw him. The dimple on his left cheek and the mole just below it, the way he insisted his eyebrows had never been done but they were so effortlessly beautiful, the stubble that grazed his chin and would tickle my neck when he buried his face into it.

I saw him, and only him.

"Miss Levin," a gentle knock came at the door, and I exhaled as Celia walked into the room, "your parents would like to speak to you downstairs.. I'm sorry, I know you're-"

"I'll be down in a minute," I said rather coldly, dismissing her from my room.

"Miss Levin-" she looked taken aback by my reluctance to pick up conversation with her, "I'm sorry, is there something I've done to upset you?"

"I'd like to be left alone, Celia," I said firmly, my eyes not meeting hers, "please."

She left my room without another word, and I sighed deeply. I felt awful for snapping at her - it wasn't her fault, none of it was. She didn't know Harry and I were anything more than friends - nor did she know a thing about last night. She had nothing to do with it, and I felt like a bitch for acting as if she did.

I got up from my bed, heading over to my mirror. Dark circles had sunken in under my eyes already - I hadn't slept a wink - and my hair was a mess. I looked tired.

I quickly dabbed concealer under my eyes - I didn't feel like a lecture on those from my mother - and I pulled my hair into a ponytail, before reluctantly heading downstairs.

"Anastasia, is that you?" my mother called from the living room, and I groaned internally.

"Yes, mother," I answered as best as I could, heading into the living room and taking a seat on the couch. My mother sat on the opposite one, while my father sat in his armchair, a mug in his hand which I assumed contained strong coffee of some kind.

"There's some things we need to address," my mother crossed her leg over the other, "first of all - why are you home today?"

"I have a bad migraine," I said simply - I wasn't lying. There was a pounding in my head that had yet to reside.

"Hm," she hummed, "Right - and where were you last night?"

"I was studying at my friend Tasha's house."

"I've never heard of her."

"A new friend," I gulped, and my mother nodded.

"Right - well, at least you're not around those idiots from before," she cleared her throat and it was now my turn to nod, "I expect you home by nine from now on - last night wasn't acceptable."

"Yes, mother," I sighed, desperate for this conversation to end.

My father now spoke up, speaking sternly, "Anastasia - Steven has been telling me some things he's noticed over previous months."

Fucking Steven - he was a butler who worked in the house - one that didn't like me much at all. We clashed on numerous things, and we didn't get along in the slightest. It didn't surprise me that he'd have ratted me out for something.

"Like what?"

"Apparently he's been noticing a.." he took a sip of his coffee, "a boy, hanging around here when your mother and I have been absent."

I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach - great. Harry.

"He's been around in your room, and such, and I think you know the rules, Anastasia-"

'Just fuck off, because I - I fucking hate you. Ana Levin, I hate you for making me fall for you, and I hate you for even thinking you could fix me.'

"I'm sorry, daddy. You don't have to worry - he won't be around here anymore," I assured him with attempts to ignore the tears stinging at my eyes, and he nodded.

"Right, well - you'd best get back to bed and beat that migraine of yours, hm?" he sent me a wink that my mother couldn't see, as I nodded, biting back the tears threatening to fall as I turned on my heel and headed back upstairs without another word.