Three Floors Down (W2S)

I will never let you go

I replay the message on my phone.

Over and over and over.

"Harry, I-I didn't mean what I said, I love you-it was stupid of me to say what I said and I hope you don't hate me because I wouldn't blame you if you did but..."

She trails off.

As the sound of a car horn blaring takes over my senses and the thud of a body hitting the ground makes me die a little inside.

I listen to her favourite song as I sit in her flat, her bed eerily cold and her presence still somehow managing to be felt. I have photos of her laid out in front of me, all of them as beautiful as the last. She is everlasting in the photos. She is infinitely filed inside a piece of printed out paper that is an always-there memory for me. I play the message again, not being able to let her voice go.

"Harry, I-I didn't mean what I said, I love you-it was stupid of me to say what I said and I hope you don't hate me because I wouldn't blame you if you did but..."

I never got to tell her I love her back.

I always love her.

How could I not?

She was an undeterred twenty one year old who had so much life left in her body. She had so many more feelings to feel and memories to make and photos to take and people to love. She leaves an invisible scar across my brain. She is a terminal ghost to me now. Her voice plays again as I hold my phone to my ear, the closeness not making me feel any closure.

"Harry, I-I didn't mean what I said, I love you-it was stupid of me to say what I said and I hope you don't hate me because I wouldn't blame you if you did but..."

Every time her voice trails off, my heart trails with it.

The noise of the car horn shatters my very being.

I want her back.

I stand at the back of the fairly-full crowd surrounding her coffin as she is lowered gently in to the ground. Rain serenely falls around me and I know she would've liked this weather; she loved the rain. I notice her brother crying in to the shoulder of a woman who I assume to be his girlfriend. I feel numb. I feel like I have just walked in to something I shouldn't be in. I shouldn't be here. Mourning the death of-of my everything. She was it for me. She was the one. She was the girl you laugh with at twenty one and the bride you marry at twenty eight and the woman you have children with at thirty and the lady you grow old with. She was all I ever wanted. She is all I want.

I stay back as the crowd disperses, I walk forward. The chestnut-coloured coffin mirrors her hair colour. I try to imagine her in there. But I can't. It hurts too much. I take the small photo out of my suit pocket and bend down, carefully placing it to the right of the coffin, trying to aim for her heart. I let a small smile grasp my lips as I study the photo of her and I; one of the only ones I possess. I notice my vision become glossy and allow the tears to escape my eyes. She deserves for me to feel something.

I walk down the street, my phone to my ear as I listen to her voice once more. It's been a while.

"Harry, I-I didn't mean what I said, I love you-it was stupid of me to say what I said and I hope you don't hate me because I wouldn't blame you if you did but..."

It's nice to hear that sweet, angelic voice after such a long time. It's coming up to a year now. A year without Delilah. A year without the feeling she once gave me. I stopped YouTube. I stopped it pretty soon after she died, actually. I didn't know how to pretend like I was okay but I also didn't feel like I wanted that life anymore. I don't want to be online and always known and followed and looked up to by people who admire me. I am not someone to be admired. I still talk to the boys as often as I can, they were forgiving of me leaving the Sidemen. I am living Delilah's dream for her now. I travel wherever I can, whenever I can and take photos of everything she would have taken photos of. I want her to somehow live through me.

I walk to the middle of the bridge and look out to the night-covered water. I imagine Delilah standing next to me. Her hair swaying elegantly in the wind and her lips being etched in to a smile and her eyes focused on taking the best photo she could. It's funny, really-she was always so interested in taking photos that she somehow missed the best part of life: herself.

I smile, before continuing my walk down the bridge and in to London. The lights guide the way and I watch as couples pass me by, their hands moulded together and their eyes securely locked on one another's. It's cute. It's what everyone wants. I feel something itch my face and raise my hand up to my cheek and realise I'm crying. I will never get over her.

She is forever mine.

We are forever bound, like an unbreakable knot.

And she will always be the girl who lived three floors down and who I would not let get away without talking to me and who would take photos and who would make me love her a little bit more every day. She will always be my Delilah.

I miss you, Del.

But, like I said:

I will never let you go.