Cold Night Boy (Larry au; BDSM)

Extra Chapter

Harry's PoV

The day my life got dragged into terrifying chaos and mourning, started off with snow. Gemma and I waited all winter till it finally snowed in January (me and Gem were a little disappointed that we didn't have a white Christmas). Gemma was 24, I was about to turn 21. I thought life was good. Till my mother called, asking me to pick her and dad up and since Gemma laid in bed with a terrible cold, I took the car.

The news blared with glazed frost coming soon. I won't ever forget the blasting sound of rain hitting the top of my care as I drove that night. I felt the street getting slippery, the wheel moving lightly underneath my tight grip.

I should've stayed there with mom and dad. Till everything was over. But dad drank a little, patted on my shoulder and said "be a good boy and get your old man home, nice and safely," Ben hiccuped and ruffled my hair.

The accident happened so fast.. It brought darkness into my life, right the second the other car crashed in the side of ours. My mommy's head split open, blood spilling out of daddy's mouth. I was alone, unable to move for a good thirty minutes before somebody came and got me out of there safely. Haunted by the smell of fear, of blood and the dead bodies of my parents, I wasn't able to sleep or talk properly for weeks. Months.

"I shouldn't have driven.. I shouldn't have-"

Covered in sweat I found myself in bed countless nights, screaming those words at the top of my lungs. Gemma tried to help me, staying a lot of nights in my bed to calm me down again, lulling me to sleep. She always tried being strong in front of her little brother. The death of our parents hit her hard but she wasn't feeling the guilt. She wasn't feeling the nagging monster that grew in the pit of my stomach, getting bigger every day. Developing sharp teeth that ate me up alive.

I still feel it sometimes.

It was hard to get out of the house after that. To leave home where mommy and daddy still lived somehow, to leave the place where I grew up as a child. Gemma and I moved in together, due to the fact that we just needed each other. I needed her more than she needed me though.

Hate started to build.. From feeling guilty, I was developing anger and hate on myself. Why didn't I drive more careful? Why didn't I just stop and took a better look at what was laying ahead?

I started to consult a psychiatrist after Gemma had begged me for weeks to do so. At one point, I was numb. Numb to things happening around me, numb to everything. I just wanted everything to stop, to stop hurting me. Because it did.. Since that day in January everyone seemed to look at me disappointed, everything seemed to move, cornering me in.

I tried to manage my temper through boxing. My psychiatrist called it 'anger management'. "Just imagine that this box bag is the person or thing you hate most. Get your aggression out," he encouraged me. My face showed up in the centre of the boxing bag, so I hit. Hit and hit and hit till my muscles were too sore to move. During that time, I felt empty. Driven by anger and hate. Those emotions were the only one I felt, anymore. I never thought of suicide .. I couldn't do that to Gem.

After a while of therapy I slowly got my life together, on the outside at least. I started a job in a bakery, helped people and well, baked. It distracted me for a good while and I was really enjoying it there. Till a small girl stumbled inside. She was indeed very pretty, her hair curling gently at the height of her collar bones. A lovely girl that was at the wrong place, in the wrong time.

Amelia, yes, her name.

She was having pity with me. Amelia was one of the few people who really look at you. The petite girl did have pity but I didn't want that. Yet, I asked her out. Why? Because I needed a change, needed someone back in my life, someone that told me that the accident wasn't my fault. Maybe I just wanted a person I could let my anger out on, from the very start, as well.