8.

                                    

                                          
tw: grooming mention
Harry
When I wake up the next morning, I'm not sure which is worse: the thoughts running through my mind or the pain that's above my left eyebrow. I have to believe that it's a culmination of both. The pain medication must have been wearing off, and I searched for the bottle on my bedside table before downing them dry.
The light filtered through the curtains of my room, delicately shining on the wall in front of me; I laid on my stomach, my head laying sideways on the pillow as I stared a bit blankly. I often wonder about timing and the universe's way of telling me when something is or is not right. 
Buying this house, for example. Both of the kids were starting new schools, they were old enough to help pack their rooms and go through their belongings before we put them in boxes and shipped them from the apartment to here. They were old enough to understand and be excited for us, and it felt like the perfect time to be able to celebrate these achievements together. So far with that, it's been incredible. 
Last night exemplified why I had been correct on Lottie's lack of capabilities in handling adult situations, and why my love life had yet to flourish. I was still figuring these big issues out and I needed to be there for the kids– I couldn't even have a night out to myself without something getting in the way. 
I couldn't allow someone to drop their life for this.
Not someone like Daisy. 
She was intelligent, funny, and driven. I would never ask her to join the circus when I knew that she'd be able to fly so much higher than us. It wasn't part of the deal that I wanted to ask her to be a part of. She was so far out of my league.
I was pretty popular with the PTA moms, so maybe I would try to work on that inside. Besides, they already knew what it was like to raise kids, but they just had a little more experience. The more I thought about it, maybe an older lady was right for me. 
Would explain a lot of the mommy issues, I'm sure.
My actions last night were inexcusable, I knew that I most likely already drove her away from having her stay at the police station for over three hours waiting on me to be released. 
I had yet to speak with Lottie about anything; Brooks was still at his sleepover, but would be dropped off back at the house around noon from what I remembered. I didn't want to have to worry him, either. I'm sure he wouldn't even think to ask about me, which is what I liked the most about Brooks. He really didn't know what was ever going on, and sometimes it was much easier to deal with that.
When I raised myself up, I walked into the on-suite bathroom to check the damage that had been done to my face. It was a lot worse than I originally thought, but mostly because the bruising with settling now and creating the purple and yellow shades around the skin.
I hadn't been charged with anything– thank god. But I was fined for public aggression and obviously the kid could sue me for damages, if he wanted. From what I heard at the station, and the cop that had taken me in, he most likely wouldn't just because he could get in trouble for a lot of other things that he was probably doing.
The cut in my lip had been glued by a nurse when I was down there; they cleaned me up and bandaged everything, saying no stitches would be necessary. I had gashes on my lip and my eyebrow, but there was solid bruising forming around my temple and forehead now.