From The Dining Table [H.S]

The Night We Met

Oh, take me back to
the night we met

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A/N:
I'm sorry if this chapter is a little messy :/.

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Harry's POV:

*slam*

The call ended.

Silence engulfed the room as I stood, motionless, feeling my body tense up. My grip loosened over my phone as reality sunk in. She was gone. My phone goes smashing down to the floor, leaving my hand frozen by my ear.

*bang*

It hits the floor, and I feel the tiny shards of glass shatter everywhere over my bare feet. A lump grows in my throat as I struggle to hold back my overwhelming emotions of anger and sadness. Running my hand through my hair, I watch the blood pool out of my feet and onto my dark oak floor.

"NOO!" I shout, as I bend down and hit all my ornaments off my table - sending them flying over the room. Blinded in a fit of rage, I walk over to my mirror, fists clenched either side of me, and stare at myself. My veins protruded out of my neck and temple as my eyes darkened with rage. Raising my hand, I forcefully slammed it against my reflection, feeling the glass pierce my skin.

"FUCK SAKE!" I shout again, spinning round and running to my coat stand at my front door. Throwing everything off it, I lift it over my head, and launch it down onto my coffee table, causing the legs to buckle underneath it. I turn to my side, and take my bottle of whiskey from the mantel, and down the whole thing. "Whyyyy?" I plead out, wiping away the drops that missed my mouth from my chin, and thudding my back against my door. My breathing rapids as my heart thumps against my chest. Sliding down the door, I hit the floor heavily.

Blood continues to drip out of my cut feet and fist, painting the floor a dark red. Long, aching pains overtook my stomach as my heart continued to pound against my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't move. Every time I breathed, my heart strained against itself. Every time I tried to move, my body seized up and I became paralysed in pain. Every time I blinked I was met with the painful image of Primrose's face.

Tears streamed down my numb face, as I sat there, lifeless. "I deserve this." I say to myself, as salty droplets hit my lower lip. "I deserve this pain."

I should've told her: I should've told Primrose who I was. It was selfish of me to keep that from her. How could I have been so stupid? This poor girl, who clearly is so naive towards modern day, trusted me. She trusted me to stay with her, to call her, to have her address... and I threw it all away. Just like she threw away the address. It was a mistake writing her. She didn't deserve this. My poor girl, probably heartbroken right now. I bet she's crying, I bet she's hurting. And it's my fault. My fault. I did this to her, I did this to me.

Forcing my eyes to focus, I'm met with the reality of my actions. Blood plasters my room as broken glass tainted with my flesh lay shattered across the floor. I slam my head back against the door, as I continue to cry to myself, desperately trying to relieve the pain I'm feeling.

"Please... Take me back." I plead out, hoping for a miracle. "Take me back to the night we met." I cried, feeling my raw throat strain as I spoke.

I sat against the door for the next 3 hours, motionless, the only movement in the room being tears slowly gliding down my face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to move. I fought with myself back and forth in my head about if Primrose was worth crying over. The short answer is yes, and the long answer... is yes. I've been captivated on her since I first lay eyes on her. She's so innocent and pure, yet has a side to her so serious and powerful. She's accomplished so much for her age; she's mature yet has the ability to be goofy. Life just doesn't seem right, knowing that we ended before even starting.