27 Days

Chapter One

"Haaaaaaaarrrry!" I slurred on my words. Missing the third step into our apartment. I heard the slight sound of feet running to the door where I was leaned against. Harry opened the door with fury burning in his eyes.

"Keely, you're alive. Thanks for fucking calling me." Harry spit the words out. I looked up at him and reached my arms up, hoping he'd pick me up. Instead he turned away and walked back into the living room. I got on my knees and crawled through the door, giggling at everything that past my eyes. Harry scoffed in the kitchen as I took off my heels and threw them with a loud clink agasint the tile.

"Keely, you smell awful! God, how did you even get home?" Harry sounded frantic. I giggled and shrugged my shoulders. Harry rand past me and looked out the window. "You fucking drove?! You drove home? You were this damn intoxicated and you risked your life."

"I don't remember, baby. Stop yelling, i wove yew soooo mucho." Each word came out of my mouth slowly, like molasses.

"Keely, you can't keep doing this to me." Harry whispered while sitting down on the couch. I stood up and hit my hip against the door handle, staggering my way to Harry. I made it to the chair next to him. I reached for his hand, he quickly removed it. My heart ached for that tiny bit of rejection.

"Harry, what do you mean?" I wimpered. My blue eyes filling up to the brim with tears, threatening to spill out.

"Keely, you came home smelling like alcohol and pot. You promised me you wouldn't. You always break your promises, I tried so hard to be the guy you needed. I'm sorry, Keely." Harry stated before standing up, I tried grabbing for him but fell onto my face.

"Harry! Don't do this." I sobbed out, my face buried into the carpet.

"Keely, I'm going to Louis' house. I'll be back soon to pick up my shit. I'm so fucking sorry that I wasn't good enough for you." Harry's voice cracked and he let out a sob before shutting the door.

I left my face on the carpet and cried harder than before. Was Harry really gone? The guy who helped me with my depression? The guy who took everything from me? Harry wasn't coming back, the thought bitterly settled in. I sat up and grabbed the lamp on the table, screaming as I ripped it out of the wall plug-in and threw it against the wall.

It was 4:06 am. I felt alone, and I knew in that moment that I was destined to be alone. He thought that he wasn't good enough for me, but god damn was he wrong. I was awful, I'm awful and I don't deserve to be happy ever again.

Oh, Harry. My Harry, I'm sorry that you felt that way.