Everything just came rushing out of me. The years of retelling that story to myself and reading up on it. It felt so freeing to tell someone. Terrifying but oddly peaceful.
Harrys been quiet since I finished telling him the story like he’s frozen in time. A rush of anxiety comes over me that I told him too much. Hes probably thinking about how broken I am and that isn’t even a fraction of the story.
“Harry.” I turn to him quickly but noticing the look in his eyes I stop. It’s un unrecognizable. He looks so lost in the words I had told him. Like his own thoughts are running around in a loop.
Looking away I forgot our hands were still molded together. We both still have a firm grip which eases some thoughts that he hadn’t let go.
“I’m sorry Harry, that was too much. You probably didn’t care.” When the insecurity falls out of my voice, Harry snaps out of his trance and squeezes my hand tightly in his, rolling over so he can look down at me.
“no. don’t think that for one second. I was just in awe of how you know so much. You’re a wonderful storyteller Violet.”
Something inside of me explodes and my body feels like it’s falling through the ground by Harrys words. “Promise you’ll tell me more someday.”
Harry looks directly into my eyes with a bewildered spark of devotion and affection.
That was the fourth promise I had made in my life and the third tonight. For the first time it feels good.