Doctor H:

Those two irk me. A lot. Especially as they get closer, it makes this feeling come up in my chest that I constantly try to push away. They're always all over each other, holding hands and hugging and being overly amorous and looking deeply into one another's eyes. But I know why, it's because of what I'm feeling.

I'm not sure where to start, but maybe childhood is a good place to begin. I grew up well off, but none of that even matters. I was alone.

My dad never even turned a head in my direction. My mother was constantly tending to him. So, more or less, I basically grew up alone. I was raised accepting the fact that a life with me in it was just a pain in the ass. I was just too much, I suppose. I prefer to strongly believe that my parents really didn't want me. That's why they never spent any time on me. Any enrichment just wasn't worth it to them.

I have no idea why my younger years had to be the way they were. I wish I knew why, or if there was something that I did that made them be reluctant to be parents to me. My mother was busy, and my dad... well, he had much bigger things to worry about.

I'm not sure if my dad was even at the hospital when I was born. He probably had a game that night or something. He was a famous hockey star, always traveling and practicing and being too busy to even give me a smile. But even though he was never there for me, I tried to be there for him - at every game he played, every award ceremony, every breakfast, meet and greet, and conference. I remember watching them raise his number and play the national anthem. The music hurt my ears, but I tried to block it out and look up at the number 30 way above me.

Maybe I was just an accident, or a mistake. I'm sure to him I was. Maybe I was never meant to be conceived. I wonder why my mom kept me, I really hope it was because she cared enough. She certainly did about my dad, but how he acted towards her was questionable. I'm not sure if he loved her at all. I hope that if I somehow manage to find someone who'd marry me someday, I hope it's not like that.
We had a maid and a nanny. Sometimes I think they knew me better than my mother and father did. My parents important to me, but I don't know what I meant to them. Let me elaborate - this one time, one of his teammates was spinning his hockey stick around and it managed to hit me in the head. I had to go to the hospital to get stitches and have the gash fixed. My mom was out of town for a few days, and he didn't want to pay my hospital bill. My grandma Annie had to do it because she didn't want me to be stuck there. If it were an option, I would've paid myself. The only reason I couldn't do it was because I was just a young kid at the time, I think just ten or eleven years old.

A few days later was a playoff game. My mom took me to see Dad play at Madison Square Garden, despite the fact that they just decided to divorce and didn't want to see each other. With my dad being the goalie, I was let into the VIP room to see him before the game started. When I got in, he was wolfing down food like an animal. He was getting really heavy and his health was getting bad. I came into the room quietly, and when he noticed me he just started pissing and whining about seeing me and how he didn't want me in his special room and whatnot. I left, upset with him. It was nothing unusual to feel that way.

My mom got me a front row seat. It had a great view of the rink, and I was excited to be at such a high-stakes event. I looked up as The Star Spangled Banner began to play, starting the game. I put my hand on my heart and looked up at my dad's jersey number hanging on the ceiling. Oh, number 30. My favorite number. It was the best number ever to the littler me. I even found it to be lucky at times, strangely. Nowadays I look back and see that it was just digits. The national anthem ended, and the game began.

It was an uneventful game, with a boring score and a quieting crowd. Things picked up after an hour or so. I looked to see my dad in the goal, looking tired and ready to get the game over with. Near the end of the 2nd period, and our team was winning 3 to 1. Just as my dad was about to block another shot, something disastrous happened. My dad clenched his chest and began shouting as he collapsed to the ice.

The paramedics arrived on the rink just a minute later and pronounced my father dead, right there. My mother crumbled to pieces. I cried too, but starting from those moments, I knew, for whatever reason, that I'd be just fine.

We had a funeral, and it was very long and impressive. A year or so later, death came back and left with my mother, struggling with depression. I applied to a few Ivy Leagues. I got in and made my choice, and decided to leave everything I knew behind. I truly was alone now.
Surprise came in college. People recognized me and were actually there for me. But something else arose too. Feelings I never had before... Pressure, stress... but also, a warm feeling in my chest whenever I looked at a certain boy in my Physics lecture. Incapable of managing myself and adjusting to my life and how I felt, I lost control of my life. Many shots of alcoholic beverages were to come, and so were other party festivities. Me, a PhD student, the daughter of Roy Hararri, the famed and loved number 30, had become a disaster.
I had friends, but there was one very good one in particular. Her name was Valeria, and she moved here from Colombia when she was really young. She loved music more than anything, and still does to this day. She was so nice, and she understood my troubles and pain. She's a really great friend, and just person in general. I knew our friendship would last.
I met my first and last love. He sat a few rows behind me in Physics, like I mentioned. He was a good guy - fun, caring, honest, all that good shit. We only spoke once before, but when we did I just stared, shaking a little, not knowing what to do other than answer the question he asked me. Oh man, I don't know what it was but I was so head over heels for him. I wanted him in my life so badly, but I just didn't know what to do. Here's where the answer begins.

Little did I know that he had some... mutual thoughts. I wouldn't find this out until a party I attended one Friday night. Looking back now, its really hard to think about. I feel anger and regret when I think about it, but I feel much lonelier and more hurt because of the events that followed after. I miss parts of it so dearly. Sometimes I lay awake in my bed and just think. Sometimes I want my feelings to just come out of me, pick me up out of bed, and walk me to his room just across the hall because I miss him so bad. I'm just so scared though. The future is so uncertain. But right now, I'm pushing it all aside, because I just can't hold it in anymore.
It was just an average night, in party terms. I was with my friends, and he was with his. I was already slamming drinks, and my ability to make choices was deteriorating. He was barely buzzed, he usually only preferred a social drink or two, but he was a lightweight. I worked up some false courage to go talk to him. As I approached him, swimming through the crowd, my palms sweat, my heart started to beat faster. I worried that I'd mess all of this up. He notices me coming his way and smiles.
Someone swings their arms and hits me hard in the nose. I step backwards, but fall to the floor. The people around me jeer and laugh. My nose starts to bleed. I hear his voice telling them to back down and let him through. I look up and see him smiling, with his hand held out to me.
"Good god, are you okay?"
"Oh… um, yeah. I'll be fine. I'm sure of it."
He helps me up and I thank him. He tells me I need a bathroom to wash my face and the top of my shirt off, and volunteers to escort me there if needed. I think him and he brings me to one a few rooms over. He knocks on the door for me when we get there. Occupied, more by the sounds of two people in there instead of just one. I can't help but look away awkwardly, but he plays it off calmly, laughing and telling me we better go somewhere else.
"You can use the dorm bathroom across from the frat house. It's only a minute walk from here if that's okay with you."
"Isn't that where your dorm is?"
"Yeah, is that weird? I mean, I just want to help you, no funny business."
"Nah, it's no big deal. I just need to clean my face."
He redirects me, and grabs some napkins from the food table as we walk out. He hands them to me and I plug my nose, trying to stop the bleeding.
We get in the elevator that brings us to the second floor. We get in, and I thank him again for helping me. He says it's no big deal, and smiles, saying nothing else.
My nose stops bleeding. I go to the bathroom and wash my face with some warm water. I'm sobering up a little, and beginning to realize that him and I are talking and it's not weird. I get a little flustered but breathe slowly to calm down.

I exit the ladies' room, thanking him again, and telling him I'm much better. He grins again, saying it's fine and that I look much better.
I pause and ask him why he bothered to help me, or why he cares so much.
"Well, okay. Listen... I haven't spoken to you much, but I see you. I see you talking, and walking, and just being you and living your life. And you intrigue me. Not because of your past and stuff. Just because of your mannerisms... they way you speak and behave. You have an excellent mind, I see that in class. But not just as your classmate, I care about you. I see that sometimes you look like you're scared and confused. It's not my place to say why, but it worries me. Someone like you, so smart, most likely dedicated and caring and loving, shouldn't have to feel so hurt. I'm assuming you've been hurt enough."
"Oh." is all I manage to say. I didn't think I'd get an answer like that.
"I wanted to help you because I care. You interest me."
"What kind of interest are we talking about here?"
He just raises an eyebrow without a word. I just look at him, wide-eyed. Something connects and lights up between the two of us. I just nod and walk towards him. Only the sound of my shoes clacking the floor fills the hall. I come close, and I feel his arms wrap around my back. I feel the heat coming off of his face as I move in closer. His hand presses against the back of my head, easing me into his lips. It's lively, and completes a part of me. He knows what he is doing. I wrap my arms around him.
When he lets me go, I just look at him, unsure but happy.
"That was really nice." he says quietly.
I just smile, wondering what could happen next. Do we just go back to the frat? Do we stay? Do we just brush it off and part ways?
"Should we go back?" he asks, brushing a single strand of hair out of my face.
"I-I... don't know."
"You still have blood on your shirt. Let me get you a new one."
"Oh, a-are you sure?"
"Yeah, we don't need to go back to the party. It was pretty uneventful anyways. Considering you just kissed me, I think we should just sit and talk."
"I guess so... we can go, it's fine by me."
"You look woozy, let me help you." He smiles, and picks me up jokingly like a bride. He carries me to his dorm, and puts me down at the doorway. I look around the dorm, and he turns to go get me a new shirt. He said he'd wash it and take care of the mess. Not thinking straight, I take off my shirt when he turns around. Once he picks one out from the dresser, he turns around to see me slightly unclothed. He examines me just a little, holding the shirt close to him.
"I, eh... do you want this shirt? Or um, are you looking for something else?"
I just tilt my head, feeling stupid, but not rejecting his implications. He tosses the green shirt to the side. He nods at me, unafraid.
"I-I have a few left."
I nod back, and take my shoes off. I walk towards him again, but he walks to me too. We meet in the middle.

Knowing him, it would have happened eventually. But it was so much sooner. I woke up the next morning with a horrible headache. I got out of bed, but got cold once the air hit my back. I was fully unclothed, just then realizing the full extent of the previous night's events. I dive for the shirt he intended on giving me, pulling it over me violently, as if I were trying to force it to give me my virginity back. I scramble, picking up my clothes up off the floor as if I could take things back. He isn't in the bed, but I turn around to see him in pajama pants and a teeshirt, standing by the beveragemaker on top of the counter, stirring his freshly made drink.
"Good morning." he says with a typical big grin.
"Uh... morning."
"You alright? You were sleeping pretty hard. I didn't wake you, did I?" He picks his drink up from the maker and turns to me while he stirs it some more. "I was trying to be quiet."
"No, no it's okay."
"Oh, good. Well, um, regarding last night..." he takes a sip. "What I said was true. I do care about you, a lot. Last night shouldn't have happened, we stepped over the line. I mean, yes, I enjoyed it. But I think we need to take a few steps back."
"Alright..."
"First things first, did you say what you meant? Do you have feelings for me?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Okay. Because, well, I already said I cared. So um, if you're into me, and I also like you... what do we do?"
"Should we like... date?"
"I... I-I guess so."
And so, awkwardly but surely, we dated for a long time. Some guy named George interfered, and we reluctantly decided to take a break. Classes became harder to manage as I drew back into myself, feeling upset and alone. We grew apart. I went back to my ways of being grumpy, stubborn, and irrational. We all got our degrees, and parted ways for a little bit. We all lived close to our Alma Mater, in upstate New York. A year later, America plunged into war. The economy collapsed. Negotiations failed. Power grids shut down. I got a call one day, from him, telling me he needs help. He was living down a little further, and his apartment was infested or something. We let him stay with Valeria and I for a bit. A week later, the bombs hit. The east and west coasts were destroyed. The population plummeted from the initial deaths, and then the radiation poisoning that lingered in the survivors. Being in upstate New York, we were safe from the radiation. But, because of growing worry of it spreading, the three of us all moved even further up, into a public building in a small operating town. Our Alma Mater still stood, but we moved beyond that. And to this day, this is where we reside. I wait quietly every day for him to get fed up and tell me he wants me back, but it never happens. Our feelings remain without a solution or output. We are stuck in a limbo of love, or lack thereof.
When I transferred my piece into 1.5, it took some of my thoughts and feelings with me. That's why she struggled with loneliness for a few months. Then 30 came along... not knowing what the sudden feelings of attraction were, they took the leap, hoping to fill the unnoticed gaps in their hearts with the ones they really need. I have unresolved feelings, and now they are bound.

This is my fault now, and this is who I am. I am Doctor Hararri, and I am alone.