f i f t y - e i g h t

121 14 3
                                    

Intertwined like two fusing stars, Boo and Harry lay in his bed together that night, Boo in a pair of soft pants and an old sweatshirt she filched from his closet

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Intertwined like two fusing stars, Boo and Harry lay in his bed together that night, Boo in a pair of soft pants and an old sweatshirt she filched from his closet. He lays beside her, one arm snug around her waist while the other holds her hand to his bare chest. Her cheek is pressed to his shoulder but her eyes are glued to the wall, absently watching the shadows caused by the wind blown trees outside his window. The room around them is quiet, but restlessness is brewing nonetheless. Beneath Boo's palm, Harry's heartbeat thunders along true and steady, providing the only sense of grounding to her drowning mind.

"Harry," she says hoarsely. Her voice sounds like a foghorn compared to the silence blanketing them.

His fingers dance along her waist at the sound of his name on her tongue. "Yes, heart," he hums throatily.

Boo inhales his familiar cologne and instinctively snuggles in closer to him. He moves beneath her, drawing her frame closer to his and kissing her forehead. The moon moves the tide the way she moves him.

"It's really over," she rasps, gently raking her nails along his skin.

"It is."

A beat passes. "Then why do I feel so empty?"

He shifts at her question. "You've spent so long trying to find out what happened, it's understandable to feel this way. You haven't had time to really grieve Martha."

His words ring true. Months of her life have been spent chasing the truth, spinning circles in the dark while looking for the light. To be wholly confronted with such a bloody reality in such a small space of time has left her feeling numb. It's a strange sensation, and somewhat dreadful, after weeks of grappling with a flood of emotions. Sometimes grief is the great, pulsating wound; but more often than not it's the tiny papercut—bloodless and invisible, and yet the pain is just as unbearable.

She sniffles despite the lack of tears. "I'm going to be hollow forever."

"Nonsense," Harry whispers, lifting her chin so he can see her face. "We'll find the light again, my love. And I'll be with you through the dark until then."

« • »

The end came swiftly after the showdown in the clearing. Nathaniel was quick to drag Warren under the bus with him, and after hours of interrogation, both men gave over where they'd moved Damien's body to. It was a Monday when Boo received the call she waited a lifetime to hear. The rain had come in deep swells the night before, nearly drowning Jack Creek in several inches of water. But undeterred by the weather, Ashton sent out a CSI team and finally, after decades of questions and heartache, Damien was brought home.

The following morning, there was a press conference. All in all, it had only been about three days since her confrontation with Nathaniel, and Boo was still feeling apprehensive. The idea of being in front of a crowd and a live camera feed only exacerbated her worries.

dandelion // h.s.Where stories live. Discover now