TW || DEATH.
And is there a God up there? So, where does He hide?
'Cause the devil is raging inside my mind
And is there a moment when it all makes sense?
When saying goodbye doesn't feel like the end?
Some years ago.
London, UK.
It was bitterly cold outside, the wind was brushing against my reddened nose to make it numb. The sound of the city drowned out half an hour ago as I walked further away from the night life. My feet stumbled from under me, my fingers holding my coat tighter around my body to brace myself from the cold that the hoodie underneath wasn't shielding me from.
My vision blurred, but it had been like that for the last hour. That was a sign that the Xanax I took earlier was working with the liquid courage that worked into my system. I tried to walk a straight line, knowing this time of the night the police were patrolling these streets. I couldn't afford to go to jail. I was on a mission, if I was able to get in and out, then I'd be home free.
Cars passed me, causing my teeth to chatter from the brisk wind that briefly passed me. I looked behind me, trying to make out the car lights, but they were exploding like a shooting star; lagged and drawn out in bright red streaks that my eyes couldn't tear away from.
I was too high to be walking.
A hard figure hit my body, making my body tense and stumble backwards. I heard a crash, following after the sounds objects hitting the streets. I caught myself from falling, looking up to see nothing, but looking down to see that I'd ran into someone's trash can. I'd panic if I felt anything, the noise was surely going to cause someone to come outside and check on what was happening. I looked towards the flat next to me, staring at the door.
The lights were off.
I was, once again, too high to fix their trash can. If I leaned over, I'd fall on my face.
I had to keep walking.
Teeth clenched together tightly as I took fast strides down the road, then took a left at the corner and went on. Prior to my nightly walk, I was kicked out of the bar by Niall. Who knew that the VIP rooms weren't for fucking the workers? I chuckled quietly to myself, the pads of my fingers working into my eye to fix my vision.
It wasn't the first time I'd been kicked out of the bar. Many times I'd find myself on my ass after being blacked out, a splash of water on my face was the only thing to make me come back from it. I wouldn't have even knew that I got kicked out until I came too with my ass on the sidewalk in front of the bar. It wasn't anything new to me, but this time I walked out of the bar willingly.
That was after I finished my business with Miss Candy.
She was a dream.
I'll spare the details of the night regarding Miss Candy.
Not that I could anyway, I found myself in front of the same old flat that I'd come crawling back to most nights. Not every night, some nights I never came home. Some nights the police would show up to the bar just to find me fucked up in the VIP section, but they had no evidence of the pills that I'd done that night; they were already coursing through my system by that time.
But it was more-so a wellness check. They knew where I was any time they got the missing persons call, hell, I even knew the two officers by name. It was, uh...it was...–well, I would say, but the haziness in my mind made their names escape me.
But, there were a lot of missing persons reports on me. So much that I think they stopped looking at some point. There were only so many she could report before they stopped taking it so seriously.
I was sure the next report would be me found in a dumpster somewhere.
Possibly dead.
My hands shuffled through my hoodie pocket, carefully taking the keys out from the pocket as I stumbled up the steps with a huff. My head leaned against the cool window of the door, eyes just barely looking down at the doorknob as I shakily shoved my key into the lock and pushed the door open with lips parted.
I half tripped into the doorway with the tip of my shoe catching on the ledge, but I just barely caught myself as my hand gripped tight around the doorknob. The lights were off, I couldn't see anything; damned woman, she knew to keep the lights on in the foyer. She knew that I always came home around this time; well, when I chose to finally come home.
My palm hit the wall, searching for the lightswitch as I shut the door behind me and started to kick my shoes off. When my fingers found the switch, I flipped the lights on. The staircase ahead was always a hassle to get up when I was this pissed, if I tried slowly, I wouldn't fall backwards down them this time. As I pushed my shoes to the side, I headed towards the stairs.
"Harry, love? Is that you?"
I had just placed my hand around the railing of the staircase when I looked up to see my mum at the top with a worried frown on her face. I felt my body hit the wall as I tried to keep my head upwards to look at her, an unamused look on my face.
"Yeh," I slurred, using my whole palm to push the long hair out of my face, "Jsst goin'--goin' to slee',"
"Harry," Jackie whispered to herself with a hand on her heart, "You're a mess again."
I ignored her comments. I always did. It didn't do much for me to sit and listen to her comment about it. There was no reason for me to take it from her, nonetheless take it from anyone around me. I knew who I was, and I didn't care. I stopped caring a long time ago.
"Let me make you a cuppa?"
Her hand rested on my arm as I reached the top of the stairs, surprisingly not falling down them this time. I sent her a cold look, pulling my arm from her touch as I scrunched my face up in annoyance.
"Jsst wann' slee'," I slurred once more as I fought to take my coat off and hang it on the coat rack, "G'ni, mum."
I pressed my body against the wall as it helped me stand, guiding my way towards the room. My eyes were pinched, my knees were weak and could barely support my weight. How did I make it home? I found my room, pushing the door open as I slipped into the dark space and shut the door behind me. It was pitch black. I couldn't find the desk; but when my hip hit it, I yelped out loudly and hunched over it with a huff.
"Bloody..." I hissed, my hand ran across the desk until I found my lamp and clicked it on, the orange light illuminating the small space.
I pulled the chair from the desk, barely being able to hold my head up as I sat down. I needed something to help me sleep. My body was dreadfully awake, and the dizziness in the room was making my stomach hurt. Tilting my head towards the desk, I pulled the drawer open where I kept my pills. Setting eyes on the container, I grabbed it and struggled to open it.
Once the top popped off, I opened my mouth and tilted the bottle into my mouth. When I awaited the chalky, chemical taste to hit my tongue; well, it simply didn't. I opened my eyes, looking down into the bottle to find nothing. I scrunched my face in annoyance, slamming the bottle down before starting to shuffle through the drawer.
I had pills.
At least one or two.
I knew that because I'd just picked up from Ajax last week. That was for certain.
Panic was washing over me through my dazed state, it felt as though my brain was short-circuiting and I could feel my anger grow inside my chest. I didn't find anything, though, and when I fell short of my need to take another pill; I threw the bottle at the wall in anger.
"Fuck!" I screamed out, slapping my desk hard with an open palm as I pushed my chair away from the desk.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, suddenly I didn't feel as high anymore, maybe it was the adrenaline or placebo; but either way, I was making another call to Pete. He was always able to spot me, it didn't matter if I owed Ajax a couple hundred pounds. He knew I would pay him back eventually, whenever I got a job.
But until then, I could just sell the pills twice the amount it's sold for and make the money back.
"H? You alright, mate?" Pete's voice flooded the speaker of my phone, I could hear the music thumping in the background. He was still at the club, regardless of it being almost two in the morning.
"Heey, mate," I slurred, my jaw clenched tightly as my fingers pulled on my hoodie strings, "Need you to front me. Just, like, ten. Can you come by tonight?"
"Uh..." There was a long drawn out silence before he spoke, "Didn't Niall just kick you out?"
I scoffed, "Because he's a fuckin' prick," I laughed in disbelief, "Doesn't matter, can you come by tonight or not?"
There was a shuffling on the other end of the phone, I could just barely make out some whispering on the other end. I pinched my eyes together in annoyance.
"Hello?!" I almost yelled through the phone.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" Pete said a bit louder.
"Yeh, can you come by or not?" My leg started to shake under the weight of my body, the hoodie of mine was tight around my neck before I adjusted it and loosened it.
"No, Harry," Pete sighed, "I'm sorry. You owe Ajax two fifty. Pay that off first, then we can talk."
"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" I immediately hissed, "Ajax knows I'm going to pay him back! Let me talk to him!"
"He's not here."
"Pete, just run me a couple then. I need it so I can sleep." I said through gritted teeth, my grip was so tight around the phone that I was shocked it didn't crunch under the strength of my anger.
"No, H," Pete mumbled, "I'm sorry. I can't–we can't keep enabling you like this–,"
"Enabling me?!" I yelled through the phone, "Because I'm fucking sick?! I need pills to sleep, Pete! Do you want me to get good sleep?! I'm a fucking insomniac!"
"You're an insomniac because you're taking too many stimulants, H," Pete scolded back, it just made the rage build more inside of me, "You need help. One day you're gonna realize that, or you're not. By then, it's going to be too late."
"Fuck you!" I finally screamed into the phone, so loud that I felt my throat rip raw with the rage inside of me, "Fuck you, Pete! I'll fucking beat your goddamn ass! I swear to fucking–God!"
At the same time, I threw the phone down onto the ground and stepped on it without any hesitation. The screen cracked under my heel, but I kept stomping on it, not caring that it was shaking the floor from under me. Maybe the neighbors could hear me. It wouldn't be the first time.
I let out another scream as I turned on my heel and punched the wall. Anxiety. Anxiety. I could feel it building in my chest as the rage took over, I was panicking; I wasn't used to feeling something like that. Only the times when I was out, but I knew for certain they would help me. I couldn't bring myself to calm down, I needed my fucking pills.
"Harry."
My mum stood behind me with a fearful look on her face, I turned to look at her; my face was beet red, something of an animalistic look on my face as I stared down at her. Immediately, I relaxed my stiff shoulders and ran a hand over my hair.
"Mum, I need two fifty." I tried to speak calmly, but my voice was shaking.
"I don't have it," Jackie shook her head, "I can barely pay the bills, love–,"
"I know you have it, mum," I chuckled quietly, pushing my tongue to the side of my cheek as I looked darkly at her, "I know you've got it. Just give me–give me the fuckin' money, mum. I can pay you back."
Jackie had a hot cuppa in her hand, I stared down at it as she set it on the desk and took a step back. There was a glimmer of a tear in her eye as she shook her head, maybe in fear. I'd never laid my hands on her, nor will I ever. My mother is my life, I loved her; it was just that I had something of an anger problem that I wasn't able to control at certain times.
"Please, Harry," Jackie begged softly through her sniffles, "I can't keep doing this with you."
I paced around my room, my body felt like it was on fire. My chest was tightening at her words. I couldn't stop myself from pacing, the nervous ticks of my hands pulling at my hair when I was out of pills came full throttle. I stopped in my tracks.
"A hundred pounds, then," I demanded, "A hundred pounds, it's all I will need."
"I don't have it!' Jackie snapped, "Lovie, please, look at you. You are not my Harry, are you? My little boy, you are a mess."
I cut her a glare, saying nothing.
"You are going through a hard time, I know this, since your father died–,"
"Don't." I balled my fists up, "Don't you fucking dare mention him."
Jackie frowned, placing a hand over her mouth.
"Don't act like this isn't–," Tears stung my eyes as I stared at her, quickly turning my head as I grabbed my chest and breathed in deeply, "Get out." I whispered.
"Lovie, don't–,"
"Get out!" I screamed out, snapping my head towards her with an enraged look, the veins in my neck prominent and angry; "Get the fuck out, mum! Just leave me alone!"
Jackie stood still, though, she didn't move. I took a step towards her, a way of intimidation, yet she still stood there. My fists balled by my side. Jackie took a step towards me, reaching out to grab my balled up hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed my hand carefully, then met my gaze.
"It was meant to be this way," Jackie whispered, "We were taught this, you were taught this. He saved us."
A thousand earthquakes couldn't shake my chest the way it did when she said that. The weight of my body finally caved on my knees as I hit the floor. My hair fell in front of my face, shielding me from my mum as she stared down at me. I could feel it, it burned and I felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.
Tears ran down my cheeks, yet I made no sound. My shoulders shook as I tried to keep it together in front of her. My dad was my best friend, he was everything to me and yet he was gone. I would never see him again, I would never get to have lunch with him anymore or watch those shitty TV shows that we bonded over.
He was gone.
And it was their fault.
A sudden hand was placed on my back, making me flinch backwards, tilting my head up to mum with reddened eyes even if the strings of hair were in the way.
"Don't touch me," I shook out, "Don't ever touch my back."
"You are a survivor, lovie," Jackie brought herself to my height, still, a worried look on her face; but I couldn't make her out because she didn't look like my mum anymore. She'd been unrecognizable for sometime. "You are lucky and you know it."
Lucky.
I was not lucky.
"Get out of my room, mum," I whispered, "Please, get out of my room."
Jackie parted her lips to say something, but instead stood to her feet and walked to the door. She gave me one last look.
"Whether you like it or not, I love you," she said to me, "And I will always love you, Harry Edward. You are my baby boy and you will always be my baby boy," She looked at the cuppa, gesturing towards it, "Drink your tea before it gets cold."
She left the room, the sound of the door clicking from behind her as I stared at the floor. I wanted to punch something, throw something, nothing would ever amount to the pain and anger I felt. Without my medicine, I felt everything, and I didn't want to. It was unbearable. All these emotions, all the guilt.
The trauma.
I stood wobbly to my feet, shakily starting to strip myself of my clothes. I pushed my jeans to the side with a kick, then pulled my hoodie and shirt off at the same time. Behind me was my closet, one with a full body mirror. I turned my body to it, looking behind me as the view of my scars came into view. Tears trickled down my cheeks as my fingers dusted over the raised scars, lips parted as I felt the soft tissue under the pads of my digits.
They did this to me.
They ruined me.
Yet, they make it seem as though it's my fault that I am this way.
My gaze ripped from the mirror, looking towards the cup of tea. I walked towards it, sitting in my chair in just my briefs as I stared into the cup. My hand cupped the side of my face, brows furrowing as the withdrawals started to gradually take on my body. A few more tears slipped from my eyes. I put my head onto the desk, hiding the surroundings with my arms locked around my head as I let out a choked sob.
Things weren't the same, never will be the same, even if I set the clock back until my fingers bled; I was stuck in a web of hopelessness until the end of time. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, but it went out a long time ago.
Pete was right, by the time I realize it, it's going to be too late.
PRESENT TIME.
Madrid, Spain.
The amount of days I've stayed here made the beeping sounds of the machine white noise. Most of the time I didn't notice the noise until it did something weird, made a different noise that made it sound like an alarm was setting off; but really, they were just changing out her empty IV bag.
I've had a stiff back for days from sleeping on the couch for days, but I didn't mind it. I tried to stretch my legs often when the nurses were in the room, knowing mum was safe when I wasn't in the room was important to me.
But the good news was that they had taken the ventilator out earlier this morning. Mum was able to breathe on her own now, but I was slightly scarred from watching them take the tube out of her throat. It was quite chilling, but she was safe. She was getting back to normal, well, as normal as she could be.
The doctor and nurses weaved in and out throughout the day, making sure her pulse was fine, asking me if I needed anything and of course updating me on anything they may find. There were not many updates, given she was in a coma, there was nothing of the sorts to be updated on.
"She's still breathing, so that's good."
At this point, all I wanted was for her to keep breathing because part of me was still latching onto the hope that she would make it through this.
I sat by her side, regardless of that, with her hand in mine as I watched her chest rise and fall. This was the most genuine time that I had with my mum.
I thought back to when I was young before everything went to shit. I held onto those memories tightly because that was real. It was real to me, it was real to them, it was real. The times before they took my dad's life, before they ruined my mother, before any of those matters.
I had people in my lifetime tell me that I should be mad at my mum, that I should be upset that she allowed that in my life at such an age, but the truth is that I was so fucked up during that time that I wasn't able to process anything of those trauma's. I still, to this day, am not able to process anything of those trauma's because my brain simply won't allow it. Call it an imbalance, or maybe I fried my brain to the point where I will never be able to process it.
So, I forgot about it. Or I try too, and I hold onto the memories that we had that were good because I didn't want to remember my mum like that. I didn't want to remember the time she held me down while they lashed away at my back, or the time that they threw me into a dark room for days without food or water, or even think about how she had no remorse in my father's death.
So, I will not remember it. I would try to erase it and swap memories out that never happened if it meant that I had my closure with someone that didn't know who I was anymore. If being a priest taught me anything, it was that I should forgive and forget, but I will never forget, though I will forgive.
I will forgive, knowing that corrupted religious power hungry people were the ones that did this to her. Back in the good days, my mum and dad would take me to this ice cream shop after school; especially if my grades were up. I would get mint choco. My dad would get chocolate, and my mum would get sweet vanilla with caramel.
Outside of the shop, across the street, was a football field. I was not an athlete, but I would get excited when I got into the car to see the football sitting on the floorboard. There, me and my dad would kick around the ball for a bit before my mum became too restless and wanted to go home.
Those memories are simple. They are not a turning point in my life.
They are simple.
Because we didn't need some sort of extravagant life with memories that had a deeper meaning to it.
I was allowed to miss my parents. I was allowed to miss the snorty laugh of my father when he watched the Gram Norton show, or some sort of stupid comedy skit show. The grunt that we all laughed at when he got stuck in his recliner, because it was broken and refused to replace it. Or even the way he used to tell me goodnight.
I especially missed that.
Goodnight, he would say, Goodnight, I will see you in the morning.
It was a promise. There was meaning there.
Goodnight, dad, I would say, Goodnight, I will see you over breakfast.
It was a promise that we would see each other again. At the time, it didn't mean anything. It was just a goodnight. But the morning I woke up to the ambulance outside with my mother waking me up in a hurry, I caught the glimpse of my dad's body being taken out on a stretcher. I didn't know what was happening, I didn't know how things could change overnight.
But when I thought back to that night, he never told me goodnight.
I didn't think anything of it. I was a teenager, that night I had my friend over and it was the first time in years that he didn't tell me goodnight, yet I still laid my head down on my pillow and went to sleep without making sure to tell him I would see him again.
Then, I woke up, and I saw him, but he never saw me again.
Those memories, I want to be hidden away forever. I never want to remember them again.
"Doing okay?"
My head snapped up from my mother's hand, seeing a nurse luring over her body.
"Yes, thanks," I breathed softly, turning my gaze back to my mum.
"Do you need anything? We have room service if you are hungry." The nurse spoke softly as she fixed the IV's that were attached to my mum's arms.
"Quite alright, thanks," I reaffirmed once again, "I just ate dinner."
"The cafeteria food isn't the best, but there's a pub down the road from here that has the best wings." She said with a shy smile.
"I don't eat meat," I offered a smile, "But, really, thanks."
"Alright," She fixed up the last IV, "I'll be out of your hair then, if you need anything just buzz us, alright?"
"Of course, thanks." I mumbled as she left the room.
I fixated on the heart monitor in front of me; it had been steady days. There were a couple moments where it was a little shaky, but she pulled through. I blinked softly, resting my sore back against the chair as my thumb ran across the top of my mum's hand; it was soft and bruised in dark purples from the amount of times they had stuck her with needles over the last week.
I dropped her hand. My eyes were growing heavy. Staying at the hospital with no sort of visual stimulation was exhausting. Half the time I found myself dozing off in the chair just to wake up to loud beeping noises from the machines.
I sighed, dreading letting go of her hand, but yet I did. I stood to my feet, dragging myself out of the room and down the hallway towards the waiting room where the coffee was. The amount of coffee I'd consumed in the last few days, I was shocked that my heart had not exploded.
I took a sharp right into the room, standing in front of the coffee machine as I opted for a poorly made vanilla latte. The machine whirled with a humming noise as the liquid filled the cup slowly. I yawned softly, suddenly feeling my phone in my pocket buzz against my leg. I pulled it out, seeing that Niall was buzzing.
"Hello?" I murmured tiredly, rubbing my eyes with the pads of my fingers.
"Hey, H," Niall said quietly, "Just wanted to let you know Anna is home."
"Mm," The hot liquid hit my lips, causing me to hiss lightly as I just barely swallowed the liquid, "Good. Did she see Rina?"
"That's what she said," Niall cleared his throat, "Erm, is Pete still up there with you?"
"He's out getting dinner," I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes as I took another sip of the scalding hot drink, "Then, I'm turning in for the night. I'm exhausted. Staying in this hospital is fuckin' depressing."
"Sorry, mate," Niall said quietly.
I pushed myself off the wall, holding the drink by my side as I left the empty room and started back towards mum's room.
"It's fine," I sighed, "I'm just ready to–," Get mum better, "I'm just ready to be home."
"Let Pete stay for the night, you can come home," Niall said, "One night wouldn't hurt."
I turned the corner, humming in agreement. One night wouldn't hurt. Things had been dreadful without Anna, I just wanted one night to curl up with her and hold her. That was all I wanted. When she was next to me, it felt like everything was okay. But since she had started working and I stayed at the hospital, it'd been hard for me to cope, to be honest.
I parted my lips to say something, tilting my head upwards to gaze ahead, only to see the commotion in front of me. My feet planted on the ground as I studied nurses hurrying down the hallway towards where my mum's room was.
"Mum?" I whispered softly, my whole body grew cold.
"Huh? What was that, H?" Niall questioned my bare sentence.
Sudden panic washed over me, the coffee dropping onto the floor as I shoved the phone into my pocket and moved quickly down the hallway. Panicked nurses were running ahead of me, I'd hoped to find another room on the floor where some other poor soul needed help. As I turned the corner of the hallway, taking another left, I just barely caught one of the nurses running into my mum's room.
I suddenly felt my body go numb, trying to keep the dizziness from fright at bay as I moved faster down the hallway.
"Hey!" I yelled out in panic, quickly entering the room where my mum was.
"Hey, no, someone get him out. He can't be in here right now!" Doctor Ramos was leaning over my mum with gloves and a mask on.
A nurse turned to me, walking towards me fast as she put her hands up, "Sir, you can't be in here right now–,"
"The fuck do you mean?! What's happening?! That's my fucking mum in there!" I tried to keep myself from yelling, she was just doing her job, but my life was being ripped away from me in seconds.
She looked at me with a saddened look, "Sir, please, just–let us get her stable, first."
"Stable? I was gone for five fucking seconds! What the–!"
Behind her, I could see them trying to resuscitate my mum, the nurses counting before the doctor placed the defibrillator to her chest. Her body jolted upwards, suddenly the realization hit me that she had flatlined. Tears burned my eyes, I quickly blinked them back. I felt my vision blur as I felt my body push past the nurse and rushed into the room.
"You can't be in here!"
"Come on, Jackie, stay with me!"
"No pulse!"
The scene in front of me was worse than any horror movie that I'd ever watched; in fact, it was so traumatic that I couldn't tell you what I saw. Voices were scolding me, while the nurses worked endlessly on her. I moved closer to her, but couldn't feel my legs move.
A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders, pulling me backwards. I snapped my head towards the figure behind me, it took me a moment to realize that Pete had come back to the hospital. I furrowed my brows, looking back at my mum as I shoved his hands off of me, the gravity of the situation slamming down on me heavier than any body of water that could crush me.
"Mum!" I quivered out, pushing Pete off of me as I tried to move towards her bed, "What's happening?! Please, save her, do something!" I shook out with tears blurring my vision.
"H, you have to get out of the room," Pete said from behind me, trying to grab my hand once again, but I tore it from his grip.
"Mum! Mum, wake up!" I choked out a sob, grabbing onto the end of the bed before Pete's arms wrapped around my waist completely and pulled me back with force. I watched the scene in front of me as the nurses yelled for the hundredth time that she didn't have a pulse, I felt my knees buckle from under me as he dragged me out of the room, "Someone do something! P-please!"
Everything was white noise from the moment I left that room, a wave of memories immediately crashing over me. I saw them like they were yesterday, in my head, my mum was in front of me; and she remembered me.
She remembered me.
"Harry, lovie, what've you got on your face?" My mum scolded playfully as she grabbed my tiny face and took a wet napkin to the chocolate.
"Dad gave me chocolate," I pouted softly, "I'm sorry, mummy."
"You are quite lucky you've had your dinner, otherwise I'd be upset," She kissed the top of my head, then the cheek she just washed, "Come on, lovie, let's get you to bed."
"Will you carry me?" I raised my hands up high, a nervous smile on my lips.
"Harry Edward, you are six years old, you can walk," She laughed softly, patting my back. When I pouted my bottom lip, she softened up as she kneeled down to me, "Don't give me the puppy dog eyes, baby boy."
"But, but..." I whispered, "Please, mummy? I want you to hold me."
She smiled, rolling her eyes, "You're gettin' a bit too big for me to carry you, but I will."
I squealed out softly, raising my arms as she hooked her hands underneath and I jumped into her arms. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I hid my face into her shoulder and hugged her tightly.
"And would you like me to read you to sleep again?" She rubbed my back softly.
"Please, mummy."
"Of course, Harry."
Harry.
Harry.
Harry.
"Harry!"
I snapped out of it, my back was against the wall with tears sticky on my cheeks. Pete had a reddened face, it looked like someone had slapped him. His arm was pressed against my neck with his knee between my legs as he held me tightly against the wall.
I swallowed hard, grabbing his wrist, just for a hand to take it and slam it against the wall. I looked over to see Niall holding my arm back from Pete.
"Let me go!" I yelled out, partially lashing out as I tried to get out of their hold.
"Harry, calm down, do you hear me?" Niall hissed, there was a saddened expression on his face, "Please."
"Where is she?" I swallowed thickly, my bottom lip pouting out as I let out a soft cry, "Where is she!? Where is my mum?!"
"You have to calm down," Pete repeated Niall, "You have to sit down, okay? Just sit down."
"Let go of me and I'll calm down." I sniffled hard, flicking my hair out of my face, "Get off of m–get off of me! Let go!"
Niall nudged Pete out of the way, grabbing my shirt with both his hands as he pushed against me and leaned in towards me with a serious look.
"Calm down–,"
"Where is she?" I almost cried as I grabbed Niall's shoulders, "She's gone, isn't she? Isn't she?!"
Niall pressed his lips tightly together, turning his head to avoid my gaze. Tears burned my eyes as I followed his gaze, seeing Anna standing a distance down the hall with her face in her hands; she was crying.
"Baby, Angel," I croaked out through a soft cry, "I'm so sorry–," I choked on my own words as I slammed my head against the wall a couple times, pinching my eyes closed tightly.
"Call it!" An echo in the room beside me, my eyes widened as I jerked forward only for Niall to pin me against the wall, "Time of Death, ten o'nine pm."
"No!" A scream ripped through my throat, so raw, so loud that it felt like it was bleeding, "No, let me go! Mum! Mum!"
I grabbed Niall's hand, pushing him away from me as he stumbled backwards. I went to bolt into the room, only for a pair of arms to wrap around my arms and pull me backwards.
"Grab him, Pete!" Niall hissed through restraining me.
"Harry, please, calm down, mate! You've worked up Anna!" Pete tried to sympathize as he stood in front of me with his arms out, pushing me backwards away from the room.
I lashed around in Niall's arms, sobbing uncontrollably as I used all my strength to break free of his hold. A part of me felt numb, while the other part felt angry; the adrenaline was enough to make me feel a pinch, but not enough to feel my feet on the ground.
This couldn't be real.
This couldn't be happening.
She couldn't be dead.
Niall threw me on the wall, hugging me tightly with a hand on top of my head as he tried to console me. I sobbed quiet 'no's into his shoulder, my fingers bunching up his shirt as I shook my head. I was gone for less than five minutes; it was my fault. I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed.
I should've stayed.
She died, because of me, she died.
I left her.
I...
Using my hands, I pushed Niall away from me with as much force as possible. Niall stumbled backwards, and I moved away from him, quickly tucking my hand behind me into my jacket as I pulled out a small handgun. I had kept in, just in case, and I hated to use this in this way.
"Move on fuckin' muscle," I choked, "I'll do it." I hissed out.
"Harry, you're not thinking clearly–,"
"Don't follow me," I barked, "If you follow me, I will fucking put one in your head."
Anna came running down the hallway, shaking her head and sobbing, "Harry, please, don't! Don't do this!"
I stared at her, but she didn't feel real. None of this felt real. The gun in my hand wavered, then I retightened the grip as I slowly backed away from them. With one last glance of my mum's room, I wiped my face of the hot tears and turned on my heel and left with haste.
Anna yelled from behind me, but I kept walking. I heard her chasing after me, to which I took a sharp turn to the right and ran to the elevators. One of them was open and I quickly got inside of it and hit the button to close. I could see Anna running towards me, I couldn't look her in the eyes as the doors closed.
"Harry, baby, don't do this–!"
Just as she reached the door, they closed tightly together and brought me to the ground floor where my car was in the garage. I wiped away at my face once more, shakily, my heart hammered as I exited the elevator and walked to my car.
I needed to be alone.
It wasn't that I wanted to, it was that I needed to.
The red mark on Pete's face was me, I knew it was when my hand started to sting. When I looked down at it, it was just as red. It must've been a hard slap. I swallowed, swallowed, and kept swallowing each time I felt a cry crawl up my throat.
I got into the car, pulled the keys out and started the ignition. Once my seat belt was on, I left the garage with ease. My phone was buzzing in my pocket, over and over again, and I ignored it. I eventually pulled it out of my pocket and turned it off and threw it into the glove compartment.
I sat there, silent, driving. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't have a plan. I just knew I needed to leave. I was recklessly driving, swerving through cars, in silence as I got lost in my thoughts. It wasn't like I lost a parent, because I lost both of them long ago. Even when they were alive; I lost them. They were mine, but they weren't.
I thought...
I thought I could fix her...
I thought that I could...
A gravelly sob broke from me, my thumb catching the tears under my eyes as I kept driving through the city. I'd be embarrassed if I didn't have tinted windows, but nobody could see me cry. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered in that moment.
For a scary moment, I didn't matter.
I didn't matter at all.
I took a sharp turn at the red light, pulling into a parking lot where a store was. I dried my eyes, pulling my hood up as I grabbed my keys and wallet and got out of the car. All the choices I made up until now were for nothing; everything that I did in hopes that I could save people were all for nothing.
Anna was wrong, it wasn't a hero complex. It was because I was so tired of people around me dying. I couldn't stand another death; I couldn't lose my mum. Yet, she's gone.
I entered the small store, the fluorescent lights burning my eyes as I hung my head and walked towards the back. Ahead, there was a cold fridge full of alcohol.
The thing about choices, is that, no matter the choices you make; it doesn't really matter much, does it? Because every choice I made led up to this moment, because there was no saving me.
How foolish I was to think that I could be saved. I could run from the past all I wanted, but at the end of the day, it was going to catch up with me and history would repeat itself. I was, and always will be, an alcoholic, drug addicted–whatever.
A priest.
I was a priest.
I thought, for some reason, that He was some sort of out for all the bad things I'd done, I thought that worshiping some sort of God would make me feel better; but it didn't. It just made me feel at rock bottom.
If there was anything lower than rock bottom, I was there.
I grabbed a bottle of tequila, silver, and went to the register. Slowly, surely, I sat the bottle on the counter.
"Is this all for you?" The cashier asked.
I sent him a small glare, then glanced at the total. I pulled out my wallet, taking out a large bill and tossing it onto the counter. I grabbed the bottle, raising it with a deadpan expression before heading towards the door.
"Keep the change." I mumbled quietly.
I pushed the door open, stepping out back into the cold air. I sniffled, rubbing my nose as I walked to my car and slid inside. This was a choice. Just one singular choice, but it didn't have to lead to other bad choices if I didn't want it to. I just needed it, really, knowing it was there was all I needed. It was cushion.
I tried to tell myself that while my skin was itching for a drink.
I started to car and left the parking lot, speeding back down the road. I thought about going home, but I didn't. I didn't know where I was supposed to go. I didn't have any place that I sat in sorrow at. When I thought about, I suppose, my depression; I associated it with my old apartment. It was dull there, and I spent a lot of time being depressed in those four walls.
But I couldn't go there.
My hand searched the glovebox, pushing my phone to the side as I got out a pack of cigarettes and tossled in the carton for one before placing it to my lips and lighting it up. I hadn't smoked a cigarette in a long time. Things had been going good, I didn't really need one. I tried to ignore the voices in the back as my mind as the smoke filled my lungs and gave me a nicotine buzz.
I closed my eyes just for a moment, feeling my body become more relaxed.
At this point, I had been driving around blindly. Smoking this cigarette in silence. Thinking.
Thinking.
And thinking.
And thinking.
And thinking.
The more I thought, the more anger I felt; it was an odd feeling, something I hadn't felt in a long time. I'd been angry, yes, but this was the kind of anger that veiled my vision in a crimson red and it matched the tone of my face while I stared steadily at the road. I could continue to tell myself that everything was fine, I could keep trying to gaslight myself, but the truth was that –
I knew the fucking truth.
And it made my head hot.
I glanced over to the bottle, swallowing thickly as my fingers wrapped tighter around the wheel. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in...
I grabbed the bottle and used my teeth to pull the cork top off before spitting it to the floor board. Tears pricked my eyes the moment the smell invaded my nose. My grip tightened harder around the steering wheel, then I used it to wipe a tear that fell before grabbing it once more.
They say that history repeats itself. I'm a believer in that, maybe that's why I was sitting in the car relapsing again. Or maybe this was all I was ever going to be. Some sort of fuckin' junkie that can't seem to cope without something to numb the pain.
The bottle met my lips and I broke the seal. One huge gulp. I choked as I swallowed it down. Another big gulp, I gagged. Another one. My body was hot, the bottle sat in my lap as I sped down the empty road, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go.
No.
Where I needed to go.
Another big gulp slid down my throat and I held the bottle between my thighs as I grabbed another cigarette and lit it up. I took a deep puff on it, tilting my head back against the headrest and steered right. Then left. Then right. I continued down these long roads that were too familiar, before I knew it, I was pulling into a familiar parking lot with a floodlight washing over the area.
I parked the car, sitting in silence as I turned the car off and stared at the building in front of me. Very few times I felt that when I drank, but this was different. I was numb, but the reality still sit heavy in my chest. I couldn't hold my liquor like I used to, my head was dizzy and eyes glossy as I grabbed the bottle and stepped out of the car.
After locking the car, I rounded the building to the back. There was a backdoor that I knew to always be unlocked, the people were too trustworthy in this city. I tried the knob, but it was locked. Brows furrowed as I shook it once more.
"Come on!" I hissed loudly, punching the door.
My knuckles blistered red almost immediately, tilting my head back. Breathe in. No, fuck this. I pulled the gun from my pants, pointing it at the knob before shooting the handle. The handle flew off, to which I stuck my fingers into the hole and pulled the door open quickly.
I did a quick look around, making sure nobody had seen me, then stepped inside the building. It was dark, it didn't surprise me. They hadn't used this building in months. My hand searched the wall for a light switch, just to entertain the thought of there being electricity; to my surprise when I found the switch, the lights flicked on.
It smelled the same; like an old basement and books. I stumbled down the long hallway, pushing the curls that fell into my face. The memories of this place flooded my mind, choppy and distorted, but still there. So many lives that were lost; so many lives that I held in my hands. At the end of the hallway, there was a pair of doors.
I used my body to push it open, almost falling into the main part of the building. I stumbled drunkenly into the dark room, catching myself on the door as I let out a huff. I used my foot to keep the door open for the light, then clicked the light switch on the wall.
The light illuminated the room and chills spilled down my spine. I stood there; tears brimming my waterline as I took a step further into the room. The door shut with a loud thud behind me. Ahead of me, I stared at the pews where the families would gather for mass, to the left of me was the stage where I stood to preach.
I brought the bottle to my lips once again.
I swallowed thickly, scrunching my face at the taste. I gazed to the right, there sat the wooden box of a confessional in which I sent people to their own demise. Where I committed a crime, not first hand, but second hand; still, it felt first hand. I breathed out a sob, quickly sucking in a deep breath as I wiped my face and studied the room.
Stumbling to the pews, I sat down, placing the bottle to the side of me. I put another cigarette between my teeth, but I didn't light it. I stared at the cross that was on the stage, it was rather large.
I chuckled drunkenly to myself, trying to suppress the frog in my throat. I swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.
Why did I ever think I could be saved?
No.
Why did I ever think religion would save me?
For some time I thought that this was what would save me. I thought that, maybe, if I just believed in something that it would give me meaning, but instead I'm more miserable than I'd ever been.
Once, I sat in this very seat where Anna asked me if I believed in God because it was something I was passionate about, or if it was because I was scared of something. There was a twinkle in her eye when she asked that; in that moment I knew that she wasn't like me. She wasn't like others. She questioned her own religion just as I did.
I wanted to tell her the truth, but I didn't want to scare her away.
But, the truth is; I believed in God because I was terrified of going to hell. I suppose in London, they did a number on me. I had the scars to show for that. It was something me and Anna had in common, but I guess I'm the first to say it.
I thought that if I worshiped something that was invisible, yet so powerful, like a genie; it would grant me all the happiness. Eternal happiness, they told me, it would let me into the arms of someone that was a stranger to me.
When I left London, all I wanted was to be happy.
I wanted to be saved.
I wanted something that would make me feel less fucking–lost. Something that would guide me without having to reach out to any of my friends because I was too scared to ask for help. So, I reached out to something that didn't speak, it didn't move, it didn't judge; I reached out to a entity that would silently say nothing as I nodded my head in content that somehow I convinced myself that I was doing a good thing.
With each passing by, my faith shook.
But now?
Now, I sat with a burning cigarette between my lips and tears streaming down my face. My mum used to tell me that God loved me, but why would he make me like this? If he loved me, why would he make me so fucked up? They always said that God had a plan for each person that was born, and yes we have our own choices, but we are told that God knows each of our choices; that he ultimately plays a game of Sims with us.
So, why?
Why would he make me suffer?
Why would he let all this chaos into the world?
God is good, my mum would say.
But is he?
I gazed around the room, squinting my eyes as my blurry vision took in the empty pews. There, at the end of the front seat is where the Martinez family would sit. Behind them, the Robinson family. Where I sat, Anna's family would sit.
I stood to my feet, bottle in my hand and my other ripping the stick from my lips before taking a step towards the stage.
"Is this what you planned?" I slurred out with arms wide open, biting down on my quivering lip, "Is this your almighty fucking plan?"
Silence drew out from the echo of my words, balling my fist by my side as I stared at the cross ahead of me. In this church, we allowed people to die. We allowed people to be drugged; we allowed people to give their entire lives to a single person; not entity, no, they were past that. The new savior was a living breathing human that thought they could speak to God.
I took another swig, my stomach was burning and I felt myself tip over the edge before setting the bottle down onto the steps of the church.
"I believed in you," I shook out, wiping my face of distaste, "And you–you..." The cigarette fell from my lips, hitting the carpet floor. I stepped on it, putting it out, "God has a plan for all of his children!" My voice echoed, "So, why me? Am I a fucking joke to you?!"
A choked sob escaped me as I fell to my knees in front of the cross, palming my eyes hard as I blew out a hard breath.
"Why did you make me so fucked up, huh?!" I tore my hands from my face, "You're not even..." The words died in my throat as I felt anger start to build inside of me.
Mum, dad, Nathan, Michael.
Mum, dad, Nathan, Michael.
The longer I stayed inside of the room, staring at the cross, I felt my head start to get hot again. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. How could someone be this evil? How...how could've I let this happen? How could've I let these people die?
Why did I let this happen?
Why was I damned from the moment I breathed the first breath of fresh air?
Is there even a Heaven after all of this? What was life really meant for? We live, we work, we fuck, we fight, then what? We die? With no reward? No rewards for our hardships? For all the fucking bullshit that we went through all of our goddamned lives. Nobody to pat us on that back while we lay in a hospital bed with gorged lungs and washed out skin from the lack of oxygen; and say;
"This is it, I'm really proud of you. Now off to the promise land."
There is no reward for living, there are small pleasures, but no real reward for what we do in our daily lives. We repeat the pain and agony every day in hopes that it gets better and then we die.
My fists balled up, standing to my feet as a sudden burst of anger flooded me; the veil of crimson coated my vision as my leg picked up from the ground and kicked the podium over in front of me. All the pain, all the misery, all the sadness; it was because I was cursed. I would never truly be happy because of that.
"You're not even fucking real!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The rush of anger released as I rammed my foot through the thin wood of the podium, just to pull my foot out and stomp on it again until wood shattered across the floor. I pulled my leg from the podium, then kicked it down the steps before turning to the Altar behind me.
In a rage, I pushed all the leftover objects and books they left behind to the ground. A bible fell on top of my foot, to which I picked up and threw across the room effortlessly. My chest shook as I fell to my knees once more, placing a hand on my chest as I let out a gut wrenching sob.
"Why..." I cried into my hands loudly, "W-Why m-me? I...I just want to be h-happy."
A world I built around me was crashing down, it was made up of paper butterflies and stained glasses of rainbows. All ripped before me like a breakaway scene. I sat on my bottom, pulling my knees to my chest as the dark thoughts consumed me; I was back where I was some years ago.
A pathetic mess.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, I jerked forward, pushing myself to turn around. A woman in a white dress kneeled down beside me, taking my hand as I blinked quickly. It didn't feel real; it couldn't have been. I blinked again as she leaned in and placed a hand against my cheek. I let her. Her thumb dusted against my cheek, wiping off the tears that stained my cheeks.
The woman glowed in a bright light that was softer than fluorescent, with much more intensity. The pad of her thumb brushed over my eye as my eyes closed. I felt numb. Helpless. When I opened my eyes, the woman's face became clear that she was my mum.
My face pinched together, I almost didn't believe it but I reached out to her and placed a hand on her arm.
She was real.
"M-mum...?" I choked out softly, pulling myself closer to her as I grabbed her arm, squeezed it, blinking hard as tears flooded my vision.
"It's okay, Harry," Her voice floated through the air, encapsulating me and hugging me warmly with the same soft voice that used to read me bedtime stories, "I'm okay."
"I–I..."
Before I could bring myself to say anything, I flung myself into her arms and hugged her tightly. A weak cry soaked her shoulder as my hand cradled the backside of her neck and squeezed her hair into my fingers tightly.
"I–I'm so sorry," I croaked into the wet cloth of her clothes, "For every–everything, everything, everything,"
Jackie's arms wrapped around me, her hand rubbed my back softly as she coo'd softly.
"Now, now, lovie," She whispered, pulling back to brush the wet curls out of my face, "It is not your fault."
"I-It is my fau–,"
"None of that now, baby boy," Mum huffed, offering a kind smile as she placed her forehead against mine lightly.
I stared into her purple eyes, they were hypnotizing and eased my nerves.
"Be happy, darling," She whispered between the both of us, "You have had a hard life, it is time to let go and be happy."
"How?" I quivered with my bottom lip, pinching my eyes shut from the burning sensation, "How am I supposed to be happy when you aren't here? When you don't...remember me?"
"Don't remember you?" Mum chuckled quietly, "How could I ever forget my first child? Harry," She took my face into her hands, creating distance as she studied my reddened eyes, "I will never forget you."
I nodded slowly, biting down on my lip harshly as I grabbed her hand and kissed it lightly. This was all I ever wanted, all I wanted was for her to remember me; maybe a bit of closure, but this. This was it. The amount of guilt I had for falling into drugs, the way I acted when I was with her, and the amount of money that I could never pay her back.
There were so many things I felt guilty about, but this one took the prize home with it.
"Plus," She took her hands from me, laying them in her lap before gesturing her arm broadly out, "Your father is here with me."
My head snapped so quickly that I felt something pop. To the right of me, down the steps of the stage, stood my late father. Still as young as the last time I'd seen him, with his bushy mustache and toothy smile; he looked happy.
"D-dad?" I shook out as I shakily pushed myself to my feet, the amount of alcohol consumed made me trip and ultimately all around miscalculated.
He drew up the stairs, the light around him was just as bright. I ran towards him, stumbling on the way before I felt his large body engulf my smaller frame. As if I didn't already cry a thousand tears tonight, I wept joyfully into his chest as he let out the same hearty laugh that I grew to know and love.
"Hello, Harry," He kissed the top of my head, grabbing my shoulders as he studied me, "What a mighty fine man you've grown into."
I chuckled quietly, before me, I couldn't seem to understand what was happening. Somehow, I didn't have a bone nor thought in my mind to question it. My mum followed to stand behind him, resting her head on his shoulder with a smile.
We were back together, a family again.
"Dad, I've m-missed you..." I shook my head in disbelief, "It's been s-so h-hard here without you..." A few tears streamed down my face.
"I've been watching you," He said softly, "You've been too hard on yourself, boy."
I fell silent, looking away.
"I was never good at advice," He said with a chuckle.
"No you surely weren't, darling," Mum laughed quietly.
"Harry, look at me," He grabbed the backside of my neck, staring into my eyes, "None of this was your fault. Do you hear me? None of this..." He gestured around the room, sighing, "It was never your fault."
"I'm...sorry that we put you through that at a young age," Mum's voice was sullen, she took a step towards me, "We love you, Harry. It was too much to be put through and we know that now."
"It happened and there is nothing we can do now," Dad said, pulling me to his side in a hug, "Please do not dwell on us. You have to promise us that you won't."
"Grieve, but know it was never your fault," Mum said as she pulled us into a group hug.
Oddly enough, the feeling I had suddenly went away. I was no longer drunk, nor was my knees buckling under me. A calm feeling flooded over me as I held both my parents into a group hug. I closed my eyes, letting the feeling overtake me as my parents held me tighter with intent. The lights that they radiated were bright, and as I kept my eyes closed, they grew so bright that I could see the veins that twirled on my eyelids.
Slowly, I opened my eyes to shield myself from the blinding light, taking a step back as my face scrunched up.
"Wha..." I looked up to a light shone above me, when my forearm moved to cover my eyes, I noticed there was a vague light outlining my body, "What..." I took another step back from them, studying the soft light, "Mum? Dad? What's happening?"
"Oh, lovie," Mum said worriedly, a frightened look on her face, "You must go. Now."
"Why am I glowing?" I sniffled, naturally I would feel anxious, but peace washed over me and I felt my body become lighter, "Am I..."
"Not yet," Dad interjected, turning his head to the door, "You have to go. The way you came in. Now, Harry."
What happened? Why was I...? Was this real?
Did I ever enter the church to begin with?
I looked up to my parents, taking a step towards them.
"Will I see you again?" I croaked, frowning.
"One day," Mum hummed softly, linking arms with dad as she smiled, "We're okay. It's peaceful here. We like it."
"What...what is it like?" I whispered softly like a feather.
"It's..."
"He must go now," Mum interjected dad, patting his arm, "Before it's too late."
I blinked. The light was growing brighter. I quickly ran down the steps, grabbing the doorknob as I pulled the door open. The hallway was dark, in my confusion; I remembered leaving the light on. I looked back to my parents, unsure. They stood on the stairs, a peaceful smile on their face as they gestured.
"What if..." I whispered, "What if I don't want to go?"
"Baby boy..." There was a glimmer in her eye with a wavering smile, "It's just not your time."
A tear fell down my cheek as I smiled lightly.
"I love you both," I sniffled, "So much."
"We love you too, Harry," Dad smiled, "Now go on, shoo. Someone has to carry on the family name. Sure as hell ain't gonna be Daniel, that's for sure..." He muttered slowly to mum.
I laughed out, a glimmer of hope in my eyes as I shook my head.
"I'll miss you."
I blinked, suddenly they were just a white light. I turned my head towards the door, staring down the dark hallway. I had to go now.
"Harry!"
A voice stopped me just as I took a step into the hallway. I looked back, my brows furrowing as the light got brighter.
"Harry! Please! Please!"
"You can't leave me!"
"Push him on his side!"
The voices got louder, so loud I had to cover my ears. I entered the hallway in a fright, the noises only booming louder in my ear drums as I ran down the hallway. It was never ending, the sounds of desperation flooding and bouncing off the walls. I cried out, ahead of me I could see a crack of light where I left the door open.
"Harry, c'mon, mate. Stay with me."
Loud cries rang through my ears, the peaceful feeling I felt suddenly ripping away each body part of mine, I felt the agony again, the pain; the ultimate demise of my own actions. My feet felt heavier, my vision growing blurry, the taste of alcohol sat back on my tongue like I'd reversed time.
I felt it all.
I stopped right at the door, falling to my knees as I grabbed my chest and looked back at the double doors that the light had engulfed into its own entity. The peace I felt back there, the happiness. I was with my mum and dad; I was happy. Truly, for those moments, I forgot about what it was like to feel sad.
"Harry, baby! Please wake up! Don't–d-don't leave m-me..."
Anna's voice rang through my ears, she was crying. I couldn't make out her voice before, it was loud and deep, now soft and simple; yet so vulnerable and scratchy at the same time. I could feel her hands on my body, though nobody was around, it was almost like she was whispering in my ear.
Anna...
I looked back at the doorway once more, then to the door next to me.
I had to make a choice.
So, I chose to be happy.
I took a step away from the door.
The light engulfed the hallway.
It was almost touching my skin.
I reached out to it, suddenly feeling a cold brush of air hit me. I looked to the door behind me, brows furrowed with lips parted. In seconds my chest started to cave in, like the feeling you get when you're away from someone you love for far too long.
"Life has some sort of meaning," Anna's voice floated through the air, she laid on the bed, with a curious look on her face as she turned her body towards me, "It would be sick to just live and die. You can't tell me you have nothing to live for."
"That's what I thought too," My fingers feathered her cheeks as I watched her movements tentatively, my heart skipped a beat as I gazed into her eyes, "That was until I met you."
"I would never reduce someone's life to a reason, but you, my dear Angel, gave me reason."
My hand dropped to my side, turning back to the door for the millionth time. The final time. Placing a hand onto the broken frame of the door, I felt it all come back to me; it was almost as if I'd forgotten the last years of my life, like she had never existed.
Her smile showed in my vision, a warm feeling washing over me as her laughter floated through the air light like fallen leaves dusting to the ground. Her arms wrapped around my torso, I looked down to see her own hands pressing against my heart as her lips pressed against the shell of my ear.
A shaky breath left me.
"Don't leave me..."
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A/N
please be gentle with me for this chapter. it was incredibly personal and hard for me to write.
thank you for your support.
love you guys.