"Hold on
Hold on
Don't be scared
You'll never change what's been and gone."
-
Time it's infinite.
When the clocks strike twelve, it's a telltale of a new day. The neverending pattern repeats, all the same, and the clocks continue counting down the hours until another new day, new month, new year begin. Time never stops; it's changing yet, never changing. It has its own unique flow, never to be disturbed, and it always passes with an eerie divinity.
So tell me, if time is infinite and changing yet never changing, why is it so daunting?
I've said this before but, I'm not afraid of death. I'm just scared of leaving my little sister behind to grow up in this shit world all alone. I'm scared of leaving my best friend, Julie, behind to fight her demons all alone.
I've thought about how they'd be better off without me plenty of times, but I stay because I'm afraid of leaving behind the people who may need me, even in the slightest bit. After all, I know what it's like to be left behind, and I could never do that to them.
However, this logic doesn't make time daunting to me.
That's why, as I rack my brain for answers as to why time seems so daunting to me, it's not a fear of death or leaving behind my loved ones. The only explanation I can come up with is anger. Hatred even. It doesn't make sense, and it certainly isn't rational.
I look out to the cityscape that reads a colorful story in the dark of night with bright lights, each color from the rainbow.
Billboards, streetlights, honking cars, and traffic.
I hate this fucking place.
Time is daunting because I'm stuck, and life is passing me by. Each and every day, there seems to be a new bruise, a new scar, a new nightmare. For me, life doesn't seem to get better with time. It's only ever gotten worse. So, why am I here?
Anger, frustration, screaming. Manic laughs, drowning, bitter acceptance.
Why am I here?
The only time I feel worth anything is when my existence somehow benefits the ones I love. Outside of that, I don't really have a place here. Not really. I don't think I ever did.
So why am I fucking here?
I could keep asking myself that until my voice faded, but I don't think I'll ever get an answer. Not a straight one anyway. So, fuck time, fuck all the people who've hurt me, fuck my life, fuck Harry, fuck New York, fuck the fucking world. To hell with it all. Let it burn.
I look down below me, my eyes gazing over the busy street below. Mothers rushing home late from work, homeless hidden in corners, desperate for warmth, loiterers, dealers, teenagers running about late, laughing and squealing.
I almost laugh when I realize I'm doing it again—watching life pass me by.
Man, I forgot that I'm an emotional drunk.
After a few more sips from the bottle of tequila in my hand, my mind wonders to nonother than Harry.
You know, I'm not sure why Harry didn't kill me before this. He's had many opportunities for ample reasons. I was bound to be killed at some point. That much has always been obvious. It was only ever a matter of time.
I tried to be safe—to come up with a plan to get out alive. I did it once before, even though the end result wasn't delightful. The end result was me. The me that I am today.
Fractured.
Regardless, I made it out. I did the impossible. I thought I could maybe do it again and return home safely to Maggie and fix my relationship with Julie, but the reality of it is, Harry allowed me to live. I'm running on borrowed time, and it seems my time has officially run out.
The clock has struck midnight, and soon, I'll be dead. I'm waiting for Harry to come and kill me now—my harbinger of death.
Everything happened so quickly tonight. I don't think I've fully processed it yet. I'm sure the tequila isn't helping with that very much.
Red lights, and wondering hands. Gunshots, blood and death.
I toss my head back, bringing the bottle to my mouth. Tequila swashes around in the bottle as I take a few more chugs. I bite back the burn, and, swaying, I sit down on the edge of the rooftop, my feet dangling over the ledge. I shiver when a bitter cold breeze grazes by me.
I'm sad. It's going to snow soon. I won't be able to bring Maggie ice skating or bring her to central park to play around and make snow angels. I won't be able to bring her to The Coffee Bean to get hot chocolate with marshmallows or watch her graduate from kindergarten.
Oh, fuck. When tears prick at my eyes, I chug some more tequila and lose myself in the burn again. At least I've saved up some good money—really good money; even after being robbed. I have the most I've had in years, actually. With Julie watching after Maggie and what little inheritance I have going to Maggie, she'll be okay.
Maybe I should go. They'll be safer this way.
I hear the squeak of rusty door hinges as the heavy door to the rooftop opens and slams shut. When footsteps draw closer, I stand on the ledge with wobbly feet and turn around.
Harry's finally here.
He looks up at me with a scowl, but he speaks in low tones. "Sei un fottuto idiota."
I can't help but laugh. "Listen, my Italian is rusty, but I'm pretty sure you just called me an idiot." I take another swig before I offer it to him. He ignores it and steps closer with an impatient sigh. "Fine," I shrug. "more for me then." I drink some more, and that's when I hear a familiar click. I look down and see Harry holding a gun up to me. I go to sip some more, but the bottle is empty. Scowling, I drop the bottle, watching it shatter to pieces on the rooftop.
"Can I ask you something, Harry?" My voice is soft as I gaze over at him. He doesn't respond, but I ask anyway. "Why didn't you kill me that night?"
For a moment, he's silent. He stays staring at me, and I begin to think he's just going to shoot me and let my body fall over the ledge and splatter on the street below, but he doesn't. He actually answers me.
"You reminded me of someone I knew a very long time ago." He rumbles in his deep voice.
I tilt my head and smile a bit. I nearly lose my balance, but I catch myself. Harry unsurprisingly remains unmoving, looking as stoic as ever. But this show isn't over. Not just yet.
"Who do I remind you of?" I ask. He doesn't respond, so I start guessing. "A friend?" I get no reaction, so I keep on thinking. "Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Bother? Or maybe a sister? Mother-" He readjusts his grip adjust on the pistol. Ah. Mothers tend to be complicated topics of conversation, so I decide not to push on it.
"Know who you remind me of?" I question, but surprise, surprise, he doesn't answer. "My step-father." I laugh bitterly, suddenly wishing I had more tequila to drown out the memories of him that start burning in my mind. "That bastard broke me. I have a feeling you're going to do the same, Harry." Again, I smile. It's not a weak or twisted smile. It may be crooked because I'm intoxicated or somber on some level, but still, it's genuine.
Harry will finally be my undoing, won't he?
I reach down into my coat pocket and pull out my cigarettes when a familiar craving hits me in the chest. I flip the box open and realize I have just one left. Maybe luck is on my side after all. I pull out my lighter and struggle to light the cigarette, but after a few failed attempts, a flame flicks to life. I manage to light the cigarette and throw the empty box on the rooftop along with my lighter where the broken glass from the tequila bottle I dropped earlier lies.
"I ruined your deal, huh?" I take a long drag, a warmth filling my lungs.
Harry surprises me with an answer. He nods. "That you did, Rosaline."
For once, I don't correct him or demand for him to call me Allie. After finding out the reason as to why he calls me by my actual name, I kind of agree with him. I am worthless, aren't I?
I blow out a cloud of smoke. "Was he going to be a valuable asset?"
"He was."
From where I stand, the fluorescent city lights shine on Harry's face, making him glow. Looking at him, I mean really looking at him, I realize Harry is a total enigma. He's also incredibly beautiful. Ethereal. Yet, even though he is beautiful, I can still see the dead in his eyes, the unique color of sea green and emerald.
I wonder if he feels rotten on the inside, just like me. I wonder if he let the disease consume him and, as a result, he's become this version of himself—the one everyone calls the devil. The one that's sadistic, manipulative, twisted, crazed, and completely and utterly unpredictable. The one standing before me, holding a gun up to me with an empty gaze.
For the first time, I don't shy away. I don't break eye contact with him. He does the same—his wolfish eyes, intense as ever, never leaving mine.
Well, regardless of whatever rot he may or may not have, he's pretty. He's really pretty.
Suddenly, his eyebrows furrow and crease inward. Oh, had I said that out loud? "I don't understand you, Rosaline." He grumbles, more so to himself than me.
His stoic expression falters slightly to one more of confusion, suspicion, and maybe even curiosity. Regardless of what he's feeling, his grip on the gun remains firm.
"Get in line," I mumble. "You wouldn't be the first." I stare down at the sidewalk from over my shoulder, where I see dozens of people walking the streets. I turn back to face Harry. "Hey, Harry? Do you believe in-" I almost slip but laugh when I catch myself. "Do you believe in heaven?"
I can feel my body swaying. The tequila is really taking over my system now, and it's heavenly. I manage to catch my balance yet again, and I end up staring up at the sky. I probably look drunk and insane, but I don't care.
The night sky is black and empty- well, all except for the occasional plane that flies overhead or the full moon. I never realized how much I missed the stars until now. I saw them once with my father after he bought me a telescope for my ninth birthday. It was a good telescope, an expensive one where I could see the stars even though the light pollution in New York.
I moved around New York a lot as a kid but, after one particularly difficult move to the Bronx, I remember my father sitting me down and telling me the telescope was lost. We were too broke to be able to afford another one.
So, that left me with just the lonely moon. The moon is certainly not a star, but it's enough to remind me of my father and his kindness; it's enough to make me feel close to my father even though he's gone; it's enough to remind me that my father was here, that he existed and loved me, even if it was just for a moment.
After losing my father, I'd talk to the moon as a helpless child, begging him to come back and save me from my stepfather and the hell he was putting me through. My father never came, though. So, I had to learn how to save myself.
For a while, I thought I was just doing that—saving myself—but I'm in ruins now so, I don't think I really saved myself. I think I just survived.
I think I mistook my silence for strength, and, as a result, I never allowed myself to truly feel. So, did I really save myself? No, because something in me died, and I'm not sure when or how it exactly happened. Was it the beatings? Was it the lies? Was it my premature loss of innocents? Was it the pills? Was it the manipulation? The gaslighting?
Whatever part of me that died is rotting away, and that rot? It's a disease that's taking over me.
I feel dead, but somehow, my heart is still beating.
"'M not sure," Harry says, much to my surprise.
"Well, I-I really hope it does. I want to see my dad again... Do you miss anyone?"
Harry lets out a dry huff. "Even if I did, what makes you think I'm gonna go there, huh?"
"You think you're damned?" He gives me an expectant look. "Because you're a killer?"
"Exactly," He states in a scratchy voice.
I smile down at him with a quivering lip that I end up biting. "Yeah. Me and you both, I guess."
"Ya know," I say, clearing my throat and quickly changing the topic. "I wanted to put a bullet in my head long before you came along, Harry."
I think I was twelve when that thought first came to mind. When I turned eighteen, I almost went through with it. The only thing that stopped me was finding out my mother was pregnant with Maggie. I couldn't leave an innocent child alone to grow up with my drug addict mother and abusive stepfather; I couldn't leave a child alone, knowing the hell her parents would put her through. Most importantly, I couldn't let my mother and stepfather ruin yet another soul. So, I stayed, hoping that I could save Maggie from turning out just as broken as me.
My mother is dead, and my stepfather is in prison for life. Maggie has Julie, and Julie would die for her. If I just keep reminding myself that Maggie will be okay without me, it gets a little easier to breathe.
So, I close my eyes and turn to Harry before taking a deep breath. When I open my eyes, I smile softly at him. "You know, I don't think I'll give you the pleasure of killing me, Harry. I'd much rather do it myself, I think. I mean, we're both going to hell anyway, right?"
I guess I'll see you in hell, Harry.
I lean back just slightly, enough for gravity to take me, and for a moment, I can feel freedom. It's so close; I can taste it. I'm just hoping, praying that maybe I'll see dad again. Yet again, I've read dozens of fairy tales, but I've never read one where the villain goes to heaven. Maybe somewhere, in some twisted fairy tale, I'll see dad again.
All I can do is pray. To whom I'm not sure. Maybe, to the moon?
I don't get to finish my last thought as it appears this world has other plans for me.
Before I can fall to my death, something snatches my wrist and yanks me back just enough to keep me from falling.
It's Harry, and he looks fucking pissed. "You really think I'm gonna let you take the easy way out?!"
"Get off me!" I go to yank my arm from his grip, and it works, except I lose my footing once more. Before I know it, I'm stumbling back too far, and my feet come out from under me. A scream rips from the back of my throat, and my stomach does flips before dropping as I fall off the ledge.
But Harry is the most fucking stubborn person I've ever met.
This time for sure, I thought I'd fall, but Harry comes running and nearly dives over the ledge after me. His large hand snatches my wrist, and the force of me falling almost drags him down with me. Pain shoots up my arm and my veins, feeling as if they begin flowing with blue flames as I cry out.
Harry grunts, eyes wide, seemingly astonished that he managed to catch me. "You're absolutely fucking insane!" He bellows, grappling to keep me up.
"Me!? You're the one who can't decide if you want me dead or not! Makeup, you're fucking mind!"
"Oh?" His laugh is crazed — awed by the sudden aggression in my voice. Through grunts, he manages to spit out, "I'm not finished with you just yet, Rosaline. You don't get to take the easy way out!"
"Harry, let me go!"
"Stop acting like a crazy bitch! I'm not fucking fighting with you while you're dangling off a rooftop! Give me your other fucking hand right now!"
"No!"
That's when I start slipping through his fingers. His eyes suddenly widen with... fear? The shift in his demeanor was so instantaneous I nearly missed it, though, his emotions should have been the last thing on my mind. "Shit- Allie, give me your fucking hand already!"
Something in my drunk mind stalls as I look up at him. The pain in my arm somehow dulls, and my heavy panting eases as I look up at a beautiful, angry man struggling to keep me from falling to my death.
Harry Fucking Styles.
Obscure. Unpredictable. Deranged. It's like he's simply not meant to be understood.
He's never called me Allie before. Not once.
Nothing has changed. Not in the slightest. I still don't fear death. I still feel like I'm rotting away from the inside out. I still feel dead with my bleeding heart. I still feel alone and tortured, but, for some reason, my other hand moves, and I reach for Harry.
I reach for life.
Quickly, he grabs my other hand and manages to pull me back over the ledge. My nails dig into Harry's shoulders as I hold on to him, a sudden shot of adrenaline surging through my veins. I oppose death, fighting for my next breath instead of giving up.
Grunting, he stumbles back onto the rooftop with me in his arms. Harry takes the brute of the fall as I mostly land on his chest. My knees scrape against the cement, and my wild hair filters over my vision when we land, gasping.
I've escaped death, yet again.
Panting, I roll off of him and fall onto my back. Our harsh breathing fills the cold October air surrounding us. I don't feel like moving, and neither does he, by the looks of it.
No words are spoken. No words could explain what the fuck just happened. No words could help me understand him. No words could help keep my world from spinning.
Only one thing in life is certain, and that is death. After hanging death over my head for so long, I never expected him to be the one to save me from such a pitiful, untimely demise.
That leaves us lying on the rooftop, staring up at a black sea illuminated by distilled starlight and the white iridescence of the full moon.
The corner of my lips tugs back suddenly as I reanalyze everything that has happened leading up to this moment. It's nearly comical how ridiculous this situation turned out to be.
Naturally, I start laughing. "Did.. Did you call me a crazy bitch?"
"Only psychotic bitches throw themselves off buildings like that," is his response and, I can't get mad. When he puts it like that...
He doesn't seem the least bit amused, but he doesn't sound furious. Maybe he was regretting saving me, or maybe he's trying to grapple with the reality of our situation now.
I'm alive. Not dead. He seems just as confused.
Another laugh bubbles up from my chest. It dies off weakly, exhaustion creeping up on me.
I follow Harry's gaze and look up at the sky. "Maybe I am but, what does that make you?" I mused. He jumped after me, after all.
The finality in his voice makes me genuinely laugh out loud.
"...a fucking idiot."
-
A/N
Hi everyone! I just really wanted to take a moment to thank you all for the support. I'm so thrilled you guys are enjoying my story so far. The comments are lovely (and hilarious), and the votes are also deeply appreciated. I've been struggling with mental health pretty severely this year, but the support I get from you all makes my day.
Seriously. Thank you.
We have over 700+ reads and 300+ comments! THANK YOU! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING AHH! I know those numbers seem so small, but I'm happy, okay 😭
Yall should know that I'm very busy with college atm so I will update whenever possible. The plot is 100% complete and drafted. I'm usually 1-2 chapters ahead of the ones I post, so updates usually never take too long.
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