Wild Side [h.s au]

Chapter 50

Harry

She's gone.

My Little Dove, one of the people I loved most in this world. Another person who ripped one part of my tortured heart with their death. Part I will never get back.

I've lost my voice after hours of screaming and crying, my throat dry and my vocal cords painful. I don't know when exactly have I stopped crying, I just know at one point the immense pain I was feeling has stopped and my whole body went numb. I couldn't hear anything or see anyone, I was in my own world, the one where there is no pain and there is only peace.

The world I'd created when I lost Zayn, when I lost my brother.

But now I'm slowly starting to snap back to my senses, realising I'm sitting on the floor, tightly pressed in the corner of the room with Alice's dead body lying on the bed a few metres away from me. I faintly remember my friends trying to pull me away from the room, but I trashed and fought, I didn't want to leave her alone.

She never wanted me to leave her alone, so I was not going to do that now.

But the harsh reality is that she left me. I feel like my heart is literally crumbling to pieces when I lift my eyes, seeing her small body lying motionless, bringing a new set of tears in my eyes, a shaky breath leaving my mouth. My muscles protest painfully when I move, slowly standing up to my feet, using the wall to support my weakened body. I walk toward her, closing my eyes briefly and wiping away the tears that have started to stain my cheeks once again. I reach out and lean forward, stroking her silky hair.

"Sweet dreams, Little Dove."

. . . .

I sit on the floor of my training room, still armed and in my uniform, my eyes fixed on nothing in particular. I've been sitting like this for hours, letting the pain consume me. I've been through almost all stages of grief in these past few hours, from denial, anger, despair and sadness, the only thing left for me is acceptance. It will take a while until this horrid reality sinks in and my heart accepts in what my brain is trying to convince it.

It's very early in the morning and the sun has only begun to rise, the sky being a delicate shade of orange. I came here to train, but I realised I don't have the energy nor the will, I have nothing. My chest feels empty and I'm somewhere between asleep and awake. I know when the sun fully rises I will have to embrace the fact Alice won't be here to see the day, to live through it.

In my hazy state, I faintly register the sound of the door being opened behind me and I don't need to turn around to know who it is. I actually feel her presence, I know the sound of her footsteps. Goosebumps scatter over my skin as I feel her standing closely behind me, my breathing rate suddenly picking up, making me realise I actually still have some feelings left in me.

But all the good ones are gone.

I use my hands to push myself up and slowly turn around, the little early morning light seeping into the room allowing me to see the gentle hazel colour of her irises. My expression is stolid, eyes probably bloodshot from crying with dark circles underneath them, my lips dry. I know because she looks exactly the same.

I saw her break down with me when Alice died, she was in the similar condition and in that moment I realised she truly cared for her. I saw it in the way she talked to her and treated her, in the way she played with the kids and how she would always find time for them, especially when I barely had any. There was at least something real in the act she's been playing all this time.

"H," I say, my voice barely a whisper. I clear my throat, feeling a slight burn. "Alice was the first one to call me H. She couldn't get used to my name when she was little and she gave me that nickname and everyone accepted it." I manage a weak, pained smile. "So when I ordered everyone to stop calling me Harry after my brother died, she was so happy, and she was the only one who managed to give me some comfort back then, but now she's gone and I'm left to deal with the consequences. I don't want to be selfish and expect comfort because I'm not the only one who's suffering because of her death, but it's just too much and there's no one. . . no one can help me."