The Lost Member (Sequel to The New Member)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N: Yes, I know. It's actually an update. It isnt long but there is more to come. Please accept my apologies and learn to love me again, because I've missed writing this and have every intent on finishing it. Thanks for those who have stuck with me.

Happy reading and remember to vote!

*Harry’s P.O.V.*

I was Atlas.

I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I held up the sky with my bare hands, my own feasible strength, and if I were to drop it, the blood of millions would stain those same hands.

For years, I suffered under this unimaginable burden.

Recently, I’ve learned, thanks to the help of a week spent in the psychiatric ward and three weeks of intensive therapy with my doctor, how to release that weight and finally stand up straight.

 I’m still weak, but now I know how to be strong. And I will recover, slowly, but surely.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gemma said from my bedroom door.

 I stretched my long legs, sore from being crossed in my armchair for so long. Gemma mussed my curls as I passed, and I pretended to be shocked and lightly pushed her hand away. She giggled.

 “What’cha been thinking about so hard there?” she asked as we walked to the kitchen. “I watched you sit in there for a good minute and you never even noticed I’d entered the room.”

 “Oh, sorry. I was just… thinking.”

“About?”

 I shrugged. “Things.” When she looked perplexed I added, “Good things. Things that make me happy.”

“Did the doctor suggest that?”

“Yeah,” My eyes found the floor as I mumbled. “I’d never realized it before, but I used to only think and say good things around other people, just do make them feel happy. Now… now, I want to make myself happy and I’m learning how to do that.”

“That’s great, Harry.” Her eyes welled up.

“Oh, come on.” I groaned. “Enough with the crying. It’s all you and mum seem to do nowadays.” We had stopped in the hallway now.

She tried not to cry. I could see it in the green of her eyes, the color of the stem of a stubborn flower that refused to die. My sister was just like that. But she did cry. And she did let herself fall into my already open arms.

 “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.” I said. “I cried, too.”