warning:
this chapter contains mature content as in triggering topics that people may be sensitive to. take this into your own interpretation. I in no way support or condone any of the behavior written in here. if you are not comfortable with reading these kinds of topics, do NOT read ahead. i REPEAT, do NOT read if you are sensitive to these topics because I in no way want to convince any of you that the behavior in this book is alright. I will also not tolerate any negative comments to the choices and thoughts of the characters because everything happens for a reason here. this is just a book, so please respect the characters choices and do not think that I support any of their behavior because I do NOT. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!
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expunge (verb): erase or remove completely.
Ariana.
Three months.
It has now been three months since Harry left me. Those three months had surely seemed to stretch on day by day and seemed like three years.
Every move I made seemed to ache my entire body, muscles, bones, and heart, everything. This has been the longest time Harry and I have not been in contact since the day we met. I had hoped Harry would someday knock on my door or call me but these thoughts were denied because Harry was not coming back until he was sure he was fine, until he was sure he would no longer hurt me. And I was willing to wait for him even if it took him years because my love for him was there, it lingered behind and sizzled through my veins all day long.
Never in my life could I remember feeling like this.
My mind couldn't be distracted from Harry only for a few seconds before the dark clouds came rolling back into my mind. There was nothing I could do to heal the wounds he had inflicted; worst of all, I wasn't sure if I wanted to feel better.
A part of me wanted to revel in the stinging burn of rejection he had left me. Maybe I deserved this pain for never helping him the way I was supposed to. Maybe I deserved losing him because I couldn't fix him while I had him.
With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself off my bed with as much strength I had left in me to walk to the restroom. I pushed the door open and switched the light on before I stared into the mirror and flinched at my reflection. It had been three months since I have really seen myself in the mirror. So I was obviously shocked when the tired looking figure stared back at me.
My eyes were dead and hollow as they stared back at me. My skin was ghostly pale and for a moment I was sure I was hallucinating, I have never seen myself like this before. Dark bags hung underneath them, contrasting shockingly with my pale skin.
My lips, too, were dry and cracked from my lack of facial care. My collarbones protruded further as well, making me look far too skinny and sick. Equally shocking was my hair, it dangled in tangled curls all around my face and stuck to my skin in large clumps. My hair looked the healthiest from my appearance.
My boney structure frightened me but I did not react to it. I did not care if all the life was slowly being drained out of my being.
A deep sigh drew out from my chapped lips as my shaky hand reached over to switch the hot water on to wash my face. My hands gathered the warm water before splashing it onto my face in attempt to freshen up but to no avail. I dried my hands and the remaining water on my face with a soft towel before I reapplied any makeup that smeared off with the water. I did not care if I was not going anywhere, I had to always look somewhat presentable to not feel so dull. I barely wore any makeup though, well less than I usually applied.
My feet dragged as I walked into the living room only to plop down onto the couch where I watched the mute television. I did not bother to turn up the volume to hear the reruns of my favorite shows. I enjoyed hearing the harsh rain pelting down on the city below. Thunder boomed throughout the city as well as the bright flashes of lighting that followed. Numerous amounts of honks from the cars below could be heard as the traffic formed because the flooding.
As I stared at the opened curtains to the large window, I let my mind fall back into the darkness that has been clouded there for three months. With every passing day, it has become obvious that Harry was no longer interested in me. Harry lost all the love he had grown for me because I could not fix him.
It had become obvious because day by day he would not leave me a single call, text, voicemail, or even stop by to see how I was doing. I did not want to visit him first because I understood that he needed his space until he had recovered. I so desperately wanted to fight for him and cling to him but I couldn't, especially after his promise that he will get better soon. He needed space although I was always there for him when he needed me for support.
Once again, I felt a familiar stinging in my that indicated upcoming tears. The vile that rose in my throat proved that I was so close to releasing the unrelenting tears.
Suddenly the tears that had been absent so long reappeared as they spilled over my eyelids and streaked down my cheeks. God, I missed him. I would give just about anything to be with him again as it used to be. I would give anything just to hear his deep soft voice and feel his passionate yet slow kisses.
Before my mind could process what I was doing, my shaky hands somehow held onto my phone as my thumb hovered over the call button on his contact.
This is an awful idea.
Was the only thought repeating itself in my head as I debated whether to call him. I desperately wanted to hear his soothing voice one last time. I needed to hear just a single word to know if he was okay, the curiosity was eating me alive. I needed to reach out to him and cling to him like it used to be, I needed him to know that he is not a reason for my pain and that I still loved him with every fiber of my being.
Don't do it, Ariana. He does not love you.
My subconscious reminded me but I quickly shut her out and confidently pressed my thumb down on the call button. I had pressed the speaker as soon as it began to ring. My stomach churned violently in my abdomen as I heard the first ring echo throughout the silent living room.
I anxiously bit on my nails as I awaited his smooth voice to boom through the speaker. I could feel the sweat forming in the palms of my hands as it rang a second time.
Please pick up.
I silently begged. My hopes plummeted even lower as I realized that Harry was not going to pick up. He did not want to speak to me. I should have never called him.
A loud sob ripped from my throat as the ringing silenced before it sent me directly to voicemail. A beep indicated for me to leave a voice message. My heart ached and was surely about to explode from all the pain it had endured as I left a pathetic sob as a voicemail.
"H-Harry..." I choked out in between rattled breath. "I don't know what happened with us but I miss you so fucking much.." Sob. "I'm sorry for everything but I'm such a mess without y-you," Sob. "I love you."
A loud beep on the other end indicated that the voice message was up and sent. I had almost regretted sending the voicemail but a small part of me hoped it was what would have Harry back to me because I needed him. Frustration took over as I threw my phone onto the ground with a loud thud. I angrily wiped the tears staining my cheeks before I let the choking sobs release and shake through my body.
I felt the rejection and heartache sizzle all throughout my being as if to mock me for what I had lost. I was frustrated that I gave Harry my endless love but he avoided me because he thought he was hurting me. I needed to tell him that he was never the reason for my pain. I needed to heal some of the wounds that had inflicted upon us. I needed to fix to mess that was us. I needed to do it soon if I wanted an end to the crazy turmoil of emotions.
Suddenly, a loud crash from outside caused my heart to leap to my throat. Curiosity creeped up as I wondered what caused that loud crash. It was definitely not from outside this building, it was from this floor. My stomach churned as I heard another crash followed by a booming and heart breaking string of shouts. The sound seemed too familiar, too close.
All the color drained from my face as I heard a string of profanities boom from the room beside me. I jolted to my feet as another crash echoed throughout the empty halls. I expected to hear another thump but my heart race quickened as I was accompanied by a dead, cold silence.
My tears seemed to stop as the panic and fear stirred inside me. My hands were shaky and cold as they wiped the remaining tears off my cheeks before I ran to my bedroom to slip on some sneakers and a sweater. His sweater.
I had to see what was going on. And I knew that this noise was not from any random person in our floor, it was Harry. It was my Harry. And whatever caused him to make this disruption, was definitely not good.
Harry.
I could hear the heavy crunching of my boots on the ground as I walked down the dirt pathway to my apartment. Accompanying the sound of my feet dragging along the gravel was the heavy rain pelting down on the ground and on my being as I walked with no effort to protect myself from the roaring weather.
I walked back from campus to my matchbox-like apartment that I call home, with absolutely no rush. I walked as if this weather were perfectly fine. The hypothetical heavy weight pushing down on my shoulders was enough to make me drag my feet with every step I took. I did not care if I was absolutely soaked by the time I arrived back home, the emptiness filling my chest was enough to prove that I did not matter.
My mind was clouded, it was in a certain haze that settled for as long as I could remember with nothing but an empty darkness. I could not think properly, eat properly, speak properly. I was unable to do these things that seemed so natural ever since my departure from her. I had taken the weak way out, yes I did warn her weeks before I left her but I never had the balls to leave her right then and there. I had to do it while she was asleep. I couldn't live with myself if I saw her expression when she discovered that I was no longer with her.
All I was left to deal with was the beautiful memories she had left behind and my true emptiness.
Every breath I drew in burned my lungs, each breath practically attempting to stop the functioning of my lungs with every inhale. Although it was pouring outside and I was absolutely soaked from head to toe, my mouth was unbelievably dry. My throat had also been dry and croaky these past three months from my lack of speaking.
It was unnecessary to speak nowadays when you had absolutely nobody but your fucking therapist to talk to. I had lost everything around me. I was never in contact with my family back in England, I no longer had friends, and the most important woman in my life was gone for good. I had left her and was purposely avoiding her so she could move on; so she could find a man who would treat her much better than myself. Although it has been three agonizing months of not seeing her, my love for Ariana remained just as strong as before. I had hoped that her feelings for me remained but I quickly denied the thought because what I did was unforgettable. She would never love me back, especially after I left her.
I shook my head from these thoughts and continued to walk through the rain pelting down on me. From a distance, I could hear the faint honking sounds from the upcoming traffic due to the flooded streets. My feet dragged lazily through the puddles of rain, soaking my boots and socks completely.
Minutes felt like hours but I finally, finally, made it back into my apartment complex safely. A heavy sigh drew past my parted lips as I felt a gust of wind hit me, instantly making me shiver because I was absolutely soaked. I ran a wet hand through my long hair and squeezed the ends of my hair to release some of the water soaked up. I looked around the lobby and noticed a few people were staring at me since I entered. A young looking girl with short blonde hair in particular.
Her blue eyes were wide and practically blown out of their sockets as her eyes trailed up from my feet and locked on my chest. When I was about to tell her to piss off, I looked down and noticed my white shirt was clinging to my skin. The thin white cotton was soaked and was practically transparent against my tan skin. You could see every outline of my abdominal muscles and the darkness of each tattoo through the t-shirt.
I uncomfortably pulled the shirt away from my skin and squeezed some of the rainfall from it too. With a final huff, I walked past every judgmental glare until I pushed the doors open to the stairway. My body yanked myself up the first flight of stairs as my boots annoyingly squeaked with every step I took.
I pulled myself up every flight of stairs and stared out of each window I passed at the ending of the staircases. I passed by and watched panicked grown ups clutching onto their children's hands as they crossed the streets with an umbrella over their heads. I passed by people of all ages run through the streets to find a roof over their heads to protect themselves from the roaring weather.
At least the weather matched to what I felt inside; harsh and cold. My subconscious added.
I gaze past everything around and stare at the damp ground itself, and imagining myself lying there.
I could just crack this window open and jump down. It would be over in seconds. No more hurt. No more anything.
I try to get past this unexpected interruption of saving a life and take my hand off the window lock to walk back to my room. For a minute, I can feel it: the sense of peace as my mind goes quiet, like I'm already dead, weightless and free. Nothing and no one to fear, not even myself.
The heaviness from my damp clothes snaps me back into reality, ripping me from my dark thoughts. I shake my head and walk through the doors to the forth floor to walk back to my apartment. Half way there, I decide to peel off my heavy shirt weighting me down and throw it over my shoulder. My feet reflectively lead me to Ariana's door and just right before I knock on her door, I mentally slap myself and force myself to keep my distance. I couldn't help it. I needed her more than ever now.
My hand dug deep into my pocket and pulled out my room keys before I jabbed it into the keyhole and twisted it to let myself in. I exhaled deeply as I closed the door shut and leaned against it. I was tired, psychically, mentally, and mainly emotionally. I felt drained from all the emotion and I felt completely empty. It was just as bad as before, ten times worse actually.
It was a strange feeling actually. It was a feeling that you just wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or not exist. Some people may think wanting that is very morbid but I want it every second of the day when I feel like this. Thats why I am trying not to think but I can't stop myself from slipping into the darkness that has clouded my mind lately.
I feel my head pound and my breathing quicken. I had to fight off these feelings I have avoided for so long. I had to fend off images of her and take care of myself for once. My hands ran over my face before I stepped out of my soaked boots and left them on the ground beside the front coat hanger. My eyes shifted to my feet as I walked to the kitchen where I pulled a new bottle of whiskey out from the cabinet and a small glass cup. I opened the bottle and poured some into the small glass cup until it spilled over its rim and stained the countertop. I squeezed my eyes shut before lifting the glass up to my lips and tilting my head back, the alcohol burned down my throat and fell into the emptiness of my stomach which caused me to reflectively gag.
I didn't know why I was drinking so often, it just stuck onto me ever since I started feeling like this. I desperately needed this alcohol to take my mind off this darkness and take me into a certain peace only alcohol could do. With the bottle in hand, I stumbled over to the couch where I plumped down on.
I rest my head back on the sofa and let my mind fall back into deep thoughts.
"You alright, Styles?" Kissinger eyed me from behind her desk.
Today was a strange day.
I was not sad but I was definitely not happy either. I was emotionless for the day that Kissinger called me in for our appointment but at the same time just about anything could tick me off and my moods could immediately shift. I didn't know what was happening but one minute I was happy but the next I was angry at the world for no reason.
"Yea," I chuckled. "I guess I've been okay."
"Are you sure? It's been a while since you've scheduled an appointment." Kissinger pointed out as she shuffled through a stack of pamphlets on her desk.
I rolled my eyes and chuckled softly. "I believe it's only been two weeks since my last appointment, ma'm, as per usual."
"Oh, and call me Kissinger I'm not an old lady!" She playfully scolded me but she still did not meet my eyes because she was now shuffling through a couple of her desk drawers.
"You alright? What are you looking for?"
"My appointment sheet, it's basically like an attendance, I have to check off that you came today." Kissinger said before she drew out a deep sigh. She closed her eyes and leaned back on her chair in frustration. "Screw it. Lets get down to business,"
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and shifted my eyes to my shaky hands in my lap. I suddenly did not want to be here anymore, I did not want to talk about what I have been feeling or anything in between.
"You need to tell me if anything is wrong because it is my job to help get back into the road of recovery, Harry." She sighed, "Have you been taking your pills?"
I stayed silent, still not meeting her gaze. I was ashamed that I had to take medication to get my mind into the place it should've been in the first place. I was ashamed that it was so bad to the point where self recovery was impossible.
"Why the fuck do I have to take pills all the damn time? They don't fucking work anyway." I snapped.
"Ah I see," Kissinger eyed me carefully as she rest her hands on the mahogany colored desk as if she were inspecting me. "What do you know about bipolar depression?"
I almost say, What do you know about it? But I make myself breathe and smile. "I am not bipolar." My voice was flat and annoyed but my mind and body were on alert.
"Hmm.." Kissinger hummed as she adjusted the glasses on her nose before she jotted small things down on a notebook before her. "Some people call it maniac depression. It's a brain disorder that causes extreme shifts in mood and energy. It runs in the families, but it can be treated."
I continue to breathe, even if I'm not smiling anymore, but here is what is happening: my brain and my heart are pounding in different rhythms; my hands are turning cold and the back of my neck is turning hot, my throat has gone completely dry. The thing I know about bipolar depression is that it is a label. Labels like 'bipolar' say, This is who you are. They explain people away as illnesses. They take away the substance of a person over a mental illness, society defines and labels you as your illness rather than who you truly are. I've always struggled with the labels, I hate it.
Kissinger is talking about symptoms and I can't help but compare each symptom to exactly what I have been feeling. The more she talks, the heavier my breathing gets. As soon as I hear her alarm ring throughout the small office, I stand on my feet more abruptly than I mean to which sends the couch flying back until it hits the wall with a loud thud. Kissinger jolts to her feet as well with a hard expression set on her features. I can see how my actions could easily be mistaken as violence, but before I could say it was an accident, the door comes flying open.
A small woman peaks her head through the opened door before looking around the office in curiosity of what was about to happen. "Uhm.. Dr.Kissinger, a patient is waiting for you by the front."
Kissinger nods but does not meet the small woman's eyes, she keeps them glued to me. "Tell her I'll be there in a minute."
She nods and shut the door again to leave us in our private session. As soon as the door shuts, I hold my hands up in surrender. I bring my hand out to shake hers before I go and she confidently shakes it. Instead of letting go, she jerks my arm forward so we are almost nose to nose- and says.
"You are not alone," She huffs. Before I can pull away and scurry off, she continues. "And we are not finished discussing this."
My heart was beating harshly against my skull and right now I felt as if I could throw up any minute. I was no where near tipsy but I could already feel the rumbling from deep within my chest telling me it was time to dispose whatever I consumed earlier.
I ignored the dull feeling all throughout my being as I shook my head to clear my mind of these thoughts. A deep sigh drew out of my lungs as I let my eyes flutter shut, my entire body slowly relaxing into the couch. All too soon, a vibration from beside me made my eyes shoot wide open. It was my fucking phone.
I groaned, my voice coming out as a cracked moan. I picked up the device and realized I had an incoming voicemail. I blinked. I pressed the phone to my ear and waited to hear my fucking boss tell me I'm fired for not going to work today.
I felt my mind whirl and my stomach churn violently as the voicemail played freely through the speaker.
"H-Harry..." My heart all but stopped as I heard her incredibly hurt voice through the speaker. Her voice was so soft and cracked, silent sobs could be heard in the background as well which only made my heart clench in pain. What had I done to her?
She had finally called me and being the selfish bastard I am, I didn't even realize she was calling. My heart thumped loudly against my ribcage and skull as I heard the rest of the message, my breathing quickening as I heard her incredibly broken voice. It was the last line that had completely caught me off guard. With a broken cry she managed to break out the three words my mind, body, and soul have been yearning for.
"I love you," How could she love me after I had left her for three months straight? How could I even live with myself after I had left her so utterly broken? What have I done?
Instead of feeling a spark of hope that the love she felt for me remained, I felt my chest cave in impossibly deep. Guilt and heartache cleaved straight through my heart to mangle it even further. I could never ever forgive myself for what I had done to her.
Not only was I hurting myself, I was hurting everyone around me as well. I had never been close to my mother, I lost my friends because of my bipolar depression, I most importantly lost my only source of positivity in life because I had to push her away.
My breathing became shallow and not even the alcohol burning through my veins could numb the heartache that was sizzling all over my body. My breathing was the heaviest it had been yet and I no longer cared if the sound of it was slowly waking up the darkness. I could no longer stop the darkness from taking over because I was too late, it had already taken over.
I took another swig at the bottle in hand before jolting up to my feet and everything around me seemed to spin. I could barely take a step or I would fall. My heart was beating erratically against my ribcage as I took a step. I didn't know what I wanted to do, but I was so sure of my movements. My feet led me to the bathroom where I switched the light on and stared at my reflection in the mirror, and I am actually disappearing.
I am disappearing. Maybe I am already dead.
Instead of feeling panicked, I am fascinated. I lay my hand on my chest, over my heart, and I can feel the flesh and bone and the hard, erratic beating of the only organ that is keeping me alive. Then I closely stare at my hard features. My plump lips are no longer soft and a dark red color, they are pale and cracked. My skin is no longer tan and smooth, it is pale and I look unhealthily thin. My cheek bones protrude and my entire being looks sick. The green irises in my eyes are no longer a bright green, they are dull and almost hollow.
Good, at least your appearance matches how you feel inside. My subconscious adds.
I squint my eyes and stare at my reflection a little longer, slowly realizing what I have become. Maybe I deserved to feel and look like this. Maybe I deserved losing Ariana to realize what true emptiness feels like. Maybe I deserved everything that has been thrown at me for hurting everyone around me.
Maybe I should just expunge myself from everybody's lives to save a life. No more Harry Styles. No more hurt. No more losses. No more anything.
A string of thoughts run through my head like a song I can't get rid of, over and over in the same order. I am broken, I am a fraud, I am impossible to love. It was only a matter of time until Ariana figured it out. You warned her. What does she want from you? You told her how it was.
Bipolar disorder, my mind says, labeling itself. Bipolar, bipolar, bipolar.
And it starts all over again: I am broken, I am a fraud, I am impossible to love.
My breathing is heavy and I can't even form a single thought without feeling the darkness slowly take over my thoughts. My hands are shaking and I feel cold all over. It is all my fault that Ariana is so incredibly broken.
My mind and body are on alert right now and I have never had such an urge to throw up at the moment. Maybe if I ended it all things would be easier. Ariana could find somebody better to love and she wouldn't have to worry about me, Niall wouldn't have to avoid me any longer, and my mother would no longer have to visit me.
Without a second thought, I pulled out my anti-depressants from the medicine cabinet and stared at the small bottle in my large hand. My heart beat was quick and my chest was heaving up and down with such heavy breaths that my lungs burned with every breath I inhaled. My hands were cold and shaky as well as my legs.
I nearly fell on my own footsteps as I walked out of the restroom and back into the living room with the small bottle in hand. Tears well up in my eyes as my mind involuntarily brings back flashes of everything I have been put through. Some memories were quite pleasant to reminisce back on but most of them shot a white hot spear straight through my heart.
Deep, slow breathing resonated in my ears as I laid on the comfy mattress with one arm behind my head and the other draped around Ariana's shoulders as my fingers gently traced unnamable shapes on her arm. The warmth her completely bare body pressed against mine was exhilarating and I never wanted to move from this exact position we were in. Her arm was draped over my stomach as her fingertips gently traced along each tattoo permanently inked into the skin of my chest.
From my angle, I could see the tint of pink that was still coloring her cheeks from what we just did. She had a beautiful natural glow to her skin every time we laid here in silence. Her forehead was slightly damp with sweat and her breathing had yet to return to normal. She looked so beautiful, angelic really.
Peppered kisses could be felt all over my chest as Ariana shifted from her previous position to rest her head on my shoulder. I watched her in awe as she bundled the blankets over us to cover our naked bodies before she rest her head back on my shoulder. Her eyes flickered to mine briefly before she shot me a lopsided grin. My hand came out from beneath our covers to touch her cheek. She exhaled softly against my touch and watched me closely as I cradled the side of her face.
"I love you," She whispered. I felt my stomach tighten as her lips shaped around the words so perfectly I couldn't stop myself from leaning in to press my lips against hers.
"I love you, too."
With this beautiful memory, I was rewarded with one much worse. Specifically one in particular that I would never forget because it has been burned into my mind.
My hands pressed tightly to both sides of her face, cradling her face close to mine as I watched her practically crumble before me. Her thighs were parted on either side of my hips as we sat on the restroom floor against the bathtub. Ariana's hands were clutching onto my shirt as she hysterically sobbed away any pain I had inflicted upon the both of us. Tears spilled from her red eyes and streamed down her cheeks before dripping down onto the soft cotton fabric of my t-shirt.
"I hate seeing you like this, Harry." Ariana spoke in between rattled breath. "This is not you,"
"It is what I've become, I'm so fucking sorry." I wiped the tears on her cheeks with the pads of my thumbs. It was true, this feeling was here to stay and I was undeniably fucked.
"B-but.."
"Shh," I pressed my hand to the back of her head to bring her closer to me as she nuzzled her face in the crook of my neck. "I'll be out of your hands soon and you won't have to cry anymore, baby."
"I don't w-want you to leave, I love you too much."
"And I love you, but I can't keep on hurting you." I warned her again.
"You always fucking say that, Harry," She angrily sobbed. "How many times do I have to tell you that you are not hurting me?"
"I guess until I believe you," I remarked.
"This," Inhale. "feeling.." Exhale. "does not define you, it has nothing to do with how you are as a person."
"Well this feeling is very much made up of me, therefore, it does define me."
Her arms wrapped around my neck as she held me closely, she held me so tight that I thought she was afraid that I would fall apart if she let go of me. Mentally and psychically.
"Look at you," I mumbled into her hair. "I haven't seen you cry this hard since the day I met you." And it was all because of me.
I stood in the middle of the room whilst staring down at the bottle in my hand. My heartbeat is so loud it's strumming against my skull and pounding fast enough I was sure it could explode at any moment.
It is all my fault that she is so incredibly hurt. All of the pain that has been inflicted upon everyone around me was all my fault. I was sure that it was best if I drank these pills, an excessive amount of course. Her soft, broken voice rang through my ears like a song I couldn't get rid of, over and over until I was tightly covering my ears with my hands to block out any noise but to no avail. My thoughts were loud. So very loud.
My veins burned as I felt the anger build up inside me. My hand clutched the small bottle tightly as I felt the self anger sizzle throughout my being. I was furious with myself that I had broke so many hearts and had inflicted so many wounds. I was also furious at the world for making me like this; for building me into the selfish bipolar bastard I am today.
With no further hesitation, my hand twisted the cap off the prescribed medication and furiously threw it behind me. I dumped the rest of the pills left onto my hand as I inspected them as if they were a science experiment. My hands were shaking and I almost dropped the pills onto the ground but refrained myself by fisting them in my hand.
Flashes of her small body on mine as she sobbed into hysteria reeled it's way into my mind again. With a heavy huff, I slammed my fist into the wall beside me with a shout. I wanted something to hit me back twice as hard to punish me for the damage that has already been done.
My boot connected with the wall too as I tried letting out the anger that has built up in me but to no avail. After several shouts of loud profanities and a tantrum of hits to the wall, I rest my forehead against it and let my mind whirl with dark thoughts.
"What have I done?" I shakily whispered to myself as I finally let the tears fall unrestrained from my eyes.
My hand that was not carrying the pills came up to tangle into my long hair and pulled harshly on the roots of it to relieve some stress. I deeply inhaled oxygen into my empty lungs before letting my eyes clamp shut tightly.
My heart was pounding against my skull and ribcage as I grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the counter and took another swig at it before I dropped half the contents from my hand into my mouth and downed them with the whiskey.
I plopped down onto the ground with the bottle of pills in hand as I waited for the darkness to fully take over. I try to imagine my body shutting down, little by little, going totally numb. I can already feel the heaviness coming over me, even though I know it's too fast. I can barely lift my head and my feet seem miles away from me.
Stay here, the pills say. Let us do our work.
It's this haze of blackness that settles over me, like a fog, only darker. My body is pressed down by the black and the fog, into the floor. There is no acclimation here. This is what it feels like to be truly asleep.
The only thing I could do is think. It starts all over again: I am broken, I am a fraud, I am impossible to love.
This was it. This was finally it. This was the great and terrible ending of Harry Styles.
No more hurt.
No more losses.
No more heartache.
No more Harry Styles.
Pain.
Agony.
Heaviness.
Darkness.
Gone.