Chapter 18

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[Harry POV]    t/w: self-harm

When I parked the car after pulling into the driveway, it was a little past lunch. Zayn would be gone by now because he always went home to eat lunch with his mom after spending the night. His mom cooks him these delicious meals that I get to eat when Gemma and I go over to his house. Just the thought of the steaming plates of food and the bowls of curry made my mouth water.

I walked inside but was surprised by the lack of bacon smell that normally filled the house. Gemma always made bacon for Zayn in the mornings, and he would make blueberry pancakes in return. It was practically a tradition at this point, and I didn't understand how they weren't sick of them by this point. Maybe today was the day they decided to try something new.

"Gemma, I'm home," I called, slipping off my shoes and playing them neatly by the door.

No response.

"Gemma!" I called, walking towards the hallway where our bedrooms were. Her door was closed and I could hear music playing through the walls, although it wasn't too loud. The sound was slightly muffled and I couldn't make out what song it was, but it was rather slow.

I put my backpack in my room, before continuing down the hallway towards her room. I stood outside the door and took a deep breath, preparing myself to tell her all about Louis and the feelings for him that were rapidly growing. I knocked on the door before opening it slightly and peeking my head in.

My knees almost crumpled beneath me when I saw her. 

She looked up at me and huge, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. The black mascara she had been wearing was running in long rivets down her face, following the paths of each and every tear to create what looked like a little black mascara maze full of intricate twists and turns. Her eyes were red and puffy, and it looked like she had blown her nose so much that it was beginning to turn a deep shade of red.

I opened my mouth in utter shock, and I saw her bottom lip start to quiver and before I knew it, she was crying and her whole body was shaking as she kneeled there on the carpet. 

Her hands flew to her face to cover her eyes as if to hide from me. It wasn't a loud cry, but the soft and quiet cries that I've done in the bathroom numerous times when I don't want anyone to know or hear the pain I'm in.

I was so taken aback by the sight - Gemma was the most upbeat and positive person that I've ever met, and the only other time that I'd seen her cry was when our dad left us back in the UK. I stood there for a minute, trying to process what I was even looking at. I quickly pushed open the rest of the door and burst into the room to her side.

"Oh my goodness, Gemma, what happened?" I cried and took her hands away from her face by lightly grabbing her wrists until she looked up at me.

This caused another cry from Gemma, but not of sadness. It was a cry of pain. I looked around, wondering if something had injured her before I felt her hands shaking along with the rest of her body as the crying continued.

There was blood all over my hands.

I tried not to faint, for I was a bit squeamish. I released my grasp from her which revealed ugly red and bloody cuts on her wrists. They were jagged and blood was seeping from them. Some of it was smeared over her wrists, but more of it had dried - the cuts were fresh. 

She quickly pulled her hands away from me when she noticed me looking.

"Harry, you- you need to leave," Her voice was shaky and at a mere whisper, "Now."

"Gemma, what happened?" I asked again and my voice cracked. I looked around the room for Zayn. He wasn't there or I would have asked him what was going on, and what had happened to Gemma.

5 Leagues Above ➸ Larry StylinsonWhere stories live. Discover now