My pinky fingers are about to break off from holding my phone and typing, my heart hurts from this chapter, the new album came out and I'm too afraid to listen to it, and it is 2a.m. You guys better really love this super long chapter and vote and comment. I love you guys.
Harry spent Thursday trying to get rid of his hangover and trying to relieve his thoughts of the worst nightmare he's ever had. He remembered all of the events of last night after thinking about it for a while, laying on his bed and wishing Annabelle were here to keep him company in his new place.
The whole day, Harry couldn't feel more sad than he was. All of the horrible emotions that a person could feel, he felt. Tomorrow would be such a dreadful day, he wasn't ready to face what would happen tomorrow for another year. He had already stocked up on alcohol, knowing it were like a tradition for him, but not a good one. Every year on this day, he would find himself getting so emotional that he would go get drunk, just like he always did when he wanted to forget something. He always got drunk and let himself do whatever he wanted, whether it be fucking a random girl, or letting himself lose his temper on his family for a while. Every year it were different, and he had no idea what would happen tomorrow.
Harry stayed up almost all night, he just couldn't sleep. His memories were drowning him and his tiredness only added to his stress. He was up and at his mother's house by noon, knowing she would need someone there to comfort her today.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, hugging his mother.
"I'm good, I'm okay. A bit better than last year. How about you, honey?" Harry took a deep breath.
"I'm fine, I guess. It doesn't matter, mum, I'm a mess." Harry held his mother tighter, seeking comfort in the lady who raised him with so much love.
"It's okay to be a mess sometimes." Anne's quiet voice soothed Harry slightly. "Gemma will be here in an hour after her last class. Do you want to help us fix dinner?" Harry shrugged. "Come on, you've never been this calm in the past years. You've always ended up leaving and not coming home until the next day, why don't you just stay here and help us?" Anne tried to persuade him, but she only made him feel more guilt.
"Mum," Harry sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. "I don't know what's going to happen tonight, okay? I can't promise anything."
"Are you sure?" Anne's face was scared and upset. "I mean, you're grown now, Harry. Can't you control yourself for just one year?" She placed her hands on Harry's broad shoulders. He shook his head, his eyes growing more and more distant as the day went on.
By the time Gemma got home, he had locked himself in his old room upstairs and pulled out the hidden bottles of alcohol he had stashed in is closet. He hadn't opened them yet, it were too early. He had to wait, he had to let himself sulk over his father for just a little bit longer. He had to stay strong for his mother and sister for just a little while longer.
They all ate together, talking about the past. Some of the memories made them laugh, and some of them made them cry.
"Remember that time dad came home from work and he had toilet paper stuck to the back of his pants?" Gemma laughed, as did the rest of them.
"Remember that time we were setting up the Christmas tree," Anne stopped to laugh, "And he tripped over the lights and knocked the whole thing over?" Everyone cackled at the sweet memory, loving the moments they could remember the man they all loved in a good way. Harry stopped laughing, his eyes falling down to his still full plate.
"What are you thinking about, Harry?" Anne asked, noticing his sad eyes. He shook his head, mumbling 'nothing.' "Oh, it's something. Come on, we shared our memories, now share yours." Anne pressed, wanting Harry to get it out of his system.
"Okay," Harry crossed his arms. "Remember the time he came home drunk, with another woman in his arms?" Harry's voice was cold. "Or the time when he pushed me down the stairs, because he was fucking wasted and didn't give a shit about me?" His voice became deeper, and he immediately felt the need to go get wasted, just like his father used to do.
"Harry," Gemma said lightly, her voice full of sympathy.
"What about when he hit you, mum? Right in front of Gemma and I, when we were still little kids? Doesn't that ever bother you? Because it fucking bothers me."
"Of course it bothers me, but I loved your father, no matter how many drunken mistakes he had made." Anne defended herself and her deceased husband.
"We all loved him, Harry, even you." Gemma said, pushing her plate away from her.
"Yeah, I did love him, but that doesn't change the fact that he was a fucking bastard half of the time." Harry growled, making Anne and Gemma gasp.
"Harry Edward! You're already badmouthing him and it isn't even seven-thirty," Anne was appalled, but she knew it would only go downhill from here.
Harry shook his head and got up, letting his chair hit the wall, and walked up to his room. He'd been strong and pitiful long enough, it was time to get drunk and let himself do whatever he felt like doing for the rest of the night. His anger was the only thing powering his actions as he unscrewed the cap from the Vodka and slowly took shot after shot, feeling himself become tipsy after six shots. It was incredible how much his body could take when it came to alcohol, it was like it could never get enough, but he soon became drunk, just like almost every night the past week. His vision was slightly blurry and his head felt dizzy, but that didn't stop him from going downstairs to join his family as they plugged in an old VCR and played old tapes of home videos.
"Lookie here," Anne squealed, pointing to the television as her husband walked down the stairs. Harry sat down on the couch, trying to focus on the television and stay sane, but seeing his father's face only added more fuel to the fire.
The tapes played one by one, all of them seeming to be funny and happy memories, until the very last one. The camera was pointed at Gemma, who seemed to only be twelve-years-old at the time. She sat on the couch, watching television as she painted her nails pink. Anne giggled behind the camera, watching Gemma sing along to a Brittany Spears song, bobbing her head along to the rhythm. Harry walked into the living room, him only being nine-years-old, and laughed at Gemma. He then began dancing like the goofball he was, singing along louder than Gemma. They both began dancing crazier and singing louder, trying to show off to each other and their mother who had a camera on them.
"Would you shut up for one damn minute!" A loud and manly voice shouted, making the two kids stop their actions and stare at each other. "I come home after a long day of work, and how do I get repaid? By having to listen to a bunch of idiots shouting all day?" Harry's father slammed the door shut behind him, Anne quickly moving to mute the television.
"Sweety," Anne sat the camera on the table, forgetting it were still recording. "They're just kids, lighten up," Anne walked over to her husband and placed a hand on his arm, rubbing it soothingly. He pushed her away, stumbling backwards slightly. That's when Anne realized he was, once again, drunk.
"What's that smell? It's fucking horrible," the man walked over to Gemma, examining her nails and looked at the open bottles of nail polish sitting on the coffee table. "Take it off, now." He slung Gemma's hand out of his grasp.
"But dad, my friend Mellony gets to paint her nails! Why can't I?" Gemma frowned, her baby eyes tearing up.
"No one gives a shit about Mellony-"
"Excuse me!" Anne interrupted him, stepping in front of Gemma and facing her husband. "You will not talk in front of our children with that language any longer." Anne waved her finger in front of his face, realizing how big of a mistake that was when he pushed her backwards again, making her fall into the coffee table and hit her head, making her pass out.
"Mommy!" Harry shouted, running to look at his mommy that had been hurt. "Daddy why did you do that?" Harry cried, his small hands holding Anne's body close to his.
"Stop crying, you baby! You cry over everything." Harry's father pushed Harry down as well, before walking away and the tape ended.
And it hit Harry like a ton of bricks, how he had said the same thing to Annabelle. Even in Harry's drunken state, he could remember how it felt to be yelled at by his father at such a young age, someone he loved so dearly, someone he thought would never hurt him that way in a million years.
"Throw that fucking tape in the garbage." Harry stood up, looking at his mother who had her hand over her mouth.
"Harry, it's just a tape, calm down." Gemma stood up and grabbed his arm.
"No, Gemma, it's not just a tape, it's the first time dad actually pushed mom and me." Harry's words were slurred a tad bit.
"You're drunk? Already, Harry, seriously?" Gemma scoffed.
"Get over it, you knew it would happen, it always does!" Harry's voice raised. "Now throw that damn thing away, or I will!"
"Stop, I want to keep it, Harry." Anne stood from her seat on the floor, stepping in front of Harry. She knew they were all being put in danger by trying to stand up to Harry, but he'd never done anything more than yell at them or punch a wall or two, sometimes throwing vases around. He'd never dare lay a hand on his mother or sister, even if he were out of his mind drunk.
"Move." Harry stated firmly, looking his mother in the eyes. Anne refused, so Harry picked her up and sat her aside, and reach down to get the tape out of the VCR.
"Harry!" Gemma and Anne both yelled, which made him angrier.
"Stop telling me what to do!" Harry threw the tape at the wall, making it shatter into a hundred pieces.
"You're acting just like him, again," Anne cried, throwing her hands up in the air.
"I'm not acting like him! He was the worst fucking bastard on the face of the earth! He hurt you so many times, for Christ's sake!" Harry hit the wall. "We were so fucking little and all he did was yell at us and tell us how stupid we were!" He pulled at the roots of his hair.
"Please calm down, it's getting out of hand," Gemma cried as well, wishing this would all just end.
"Don't tell me to calm down, I'm fucking livid, Gemma!" Usually Harry's temper were bad, right? But when he were intoxicated, it were worse. He would always take the smallest things and get so angry over them that he would have to hit something or throw something just to feel a bit of control. Anne and Gemma had no idea why he still let himself get drunk if he knew he'd act so cruel afterward.
The events from the tape replayed in Harry's mind, making him stomp upstairs and slam the door to his room shut. He opened a can of beer and began sipping it, pacing around his room to try to understand what he was feeling right now. It was all anger, that's all he felt. His father was a cruel, heartless man when he was drunk, and Harry knew he resembled him way too much for his own good. He couldn't help it, he grew up around him until he was fifteen, he knew no better.
Anne and Gemma heard thumps coming from upstairs, and they knew they had to stop him now. If they let it get any worse, they'd both be spending all day tomorrow cleaning up shattered glass and fixing holes in the walls.
"What do we do? How do we calm him down?" Gemma asked, running her hands through her hair just like Harry did when he were stressed. Anne shrugged, tears rolling down her cheeks. Another thump was heard from upstairs, making them both flinch and step closer to each other.
"I have an idea, but it might be a bit of a long shot." Anne spoke after hearing Harry shout random curse words to the top of his lungs. "I'll be right back." Anne patted Gemma's back and walked upstairs, knocking on Harry's door.
"Go away." He slurred again, sounding worse than before. Anne opened the door anyway, seeing Harry with a bottle of alcohol between his lips. "I said go away." He grumbled.
"May I see your phone for just a moment?" Anne gave Harry a smile, hoping to ease his temper.
"Why? Want to call the cops on me like last year?" Harry laughed, taking a swig of the drink. "Because that was so fucking hilarious, you thought calling the police would help me." He laughed a humorless laugh.
"No, honey, I just want to look for a phone number. Do you have Aunt Jenna's number? I'd like to call her and see how she's doing. We haven't spoken in a while-"
"Geez, mum, I get it." Harry tossed his phone at her. "Just shut up and get out." Anne nodded, taking his phone and walking downstairs.
"What are you doing with that?" Gemma asked.
"Calling the only person who can help us." Anne unlocked his phone, finding the number of who she knew could help.
An hour later, Harry was so drunk that he couldn't even walk down the stairs without tripping every time he took a step, and when he made it downstairs, his eyes focused on his mother and Gemma sat on the sofa.
"He's so scary when he's like this." Anne whispered. "He's just like his father, it's unbelievable."
"This again?" Harry shouted. "So while I'm up in my room trying to forget about dad, you're sat here watching tapes of him, and comparing us again?!" Harry's voice was laced with venom. "Don't either of you remember how horrible he was to us?! Do I have to keep reminding you of what he did to you, mum? The time he slammed the bedroom door in your face and broke your nose?!" Harry picked up an empty glass cup, tossing it at the same bedroom door that broke his mother's nose.
"Please, Harry,"
"Gemma, the time he broke your first laptop after mum found him on some porn website?!" Harry's cheeks were red and his eyes were so droopy as he slung his fist at the wall beside him.
Anne's eyes darted to Annabelle who stood at the front door. She had just arrived before Harry had come downstairs and began throwing another fit. Her jaw dropped at how he was acting and her anxiety was through the roof, knowing he could break anything or anyone in his path at this moment. Anne's eyes were pleading as she mentally begged Annabelle to do something, so she did. She walked closer to Harry, taking her steps slowly as he continued shouting horrible things his father had done.
"I'm so fucking glad he died, he deserved it!" And then he felt a small hand grab his fist, holding it with care. His body turned around and his eyes settled on Annabelle. All of the fury that he once held seemed to disappear into thin air as he focused on the terrified eyes in front of him.
"What is she doing here?" Harry's voice was confused and only slightly angry this time. When Annabelle let go of his hand and he turned to face his mother, his temper slowly raised. "How could you bring her here at a time like this?" Harry stepped towards his mother. "What, did you want her to see me punching walls so she'd be even more scared of me, hate me even more?!" Harry's voice was back to being loud and frightening. "You might as well have called the cops again, mum, that would've been such a better idea than bringing her here!"
And when he said those words, Annabelle felt so unwanted. She felt the darkness creeping back in after she had finally decided to try to forgive Harry for what he said to her in her driveway. Annabelle looked at Anne, wanting to back away and leave Harry alone like he wanted, but Anne shook her head.
"Harry, look at her." Anne demanded, needing him to focus on Annabelle's face so he could calm down again. "Look at how scared you're making her, look how sad she is." Anne's voice shook as she commanded Harry to do these things, but she continued making him realize what he was doing. "I thought you loved her? And now you're only making her sad." Anne clicked her tongue, shaking her head.
Harry's turned to look at Annabelle, his mother's words going straight to his heart. "I do love her," he defended, seeing her back pressed against the wall in fear. "I love you," he spoke as if he were a small child trying to prove to his mother that he wasn't guilty of eating the last cookie in the cookie jar. "Don't be scared of me." Harry's hands reach up to cup Annabelle's cheeks. She flinched at first, but when she felt the familiar feeling of his hands on her, she felt as if her heart were melting right back into its old self.
Annabelle gently nodded, holding one of his hands in hers. Anne and Gemma let out a deep breath, finally finding a way to end this madness.
"Annabelle, would you take Harry upstairs and help him go to bed?" Anne asked. Putting Harry to sleep seemed to be the safest thing to do right now. Annabelle nodded and held Harry's hand as they walked up the stairs. She had to keep him steady until they got to his bed and she made him lay down, getting a pouty face from him.
"Lay with me." Harry said with outstretched arms. The only reason Annabelle was letting herself do this was for Anne and Gemma, and Harry's safety. She had to keep his anger contained until the alcohol left his system, which would take a long time according to the empty beer bottles laying everywhere.
Harry pulled her close after she laid down beside him, and he rested his head on her chest. Harry hummed in delight, his feelings switching to admiration and happiness. "I missed you sooo much." He smuggled closer to her. "I'm sooo happy you're here, I have sooo much to tell you, Annabelle. Did you know that I got my own apartment? I even have a kitchen and food," he giggled, sending chills through Annabelle's body.
"How have you been, Annabelle? Are you happy without me?" Harry turned his head so he could see her face, gently rubbing his nose against her cheek. "I'm sooo sad without you, did you know that? Sometimes I can't sleep, because you're not with me, so I listen to that band you like, what's their name?" Harry giggled again, and all of his words had hit Annabelle like a deer in the headlights. "Parmore? Paramore," Harry smiled as he remembered the name of her favorite band. "I listen to them and I think of how much I love you, and then I remember everyyything that happened to us. Did you know I'm sad without you? I miss your cuddles. Did you miss my cuddles?" Harry looked up expectingly at Annabelle. She nodded for his sake.
"Hey, Annabelle, will you do that thing where you play with me hair? I miss that, did you know I missed that?" With every sentence, Harry sounded more and more like a small child, and Annabelle wanted to do anything she could to comfort him, so she began running her fingers through his hair. "Mmm, did you know that I missed your hands? Did you know that, Annabelle?"
Harry continued asking random questions and the mood had lifted. Harry asked why squirrels looked like small cats with big tails, and Annabelle couldn't help but giggle at that one. She really had missed Harry, whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not. She thought she hadn't missed him or cared about him anymore, but now that she had him in her arms and he wouldn't just shut up for five seconds, she realized how much she really needed to be with him for a while.
"I'm sleepy, Annabelle, but I can't sleep. Do you know why I can't sleep, Annabelle?" She shook her head. "Because I know that when I wake up, you might not be here, so maybe if I just stay awake all night, you can't leave me, right? Annabelle, if I stay awake all night, will you stay here with me tomorrow?" Harry gasped as an idea came to mind. "We could make pancakes for breakfast! And then we could watch all of your favorite movies and cuddle, and then maybe you'll forgive me and we can live happily ever after," Harry giggled and sat up, so much excitement on his face. Annabelle's heart felt as if Harry had squeezed it with his words, she felt so guilty for all of the pain that was hidden behind his glossy eyes. There was no way she couldn't forgive him, not after he had spilled how much he loved and missed her, not after he'd made plans to crawl to the ends of the earth just for her forgiveness.
Annabelle nodded, pulling him back down to lay his head on her chest. He yawned and moved his face so it could nuzzle up in her neck. He sloppily kissed her jaw.
"I don't think I can stay awake all night, Annabelle, can I go to sleep?" She nodded. "Will you be here when I wake up? Do you promise me a lot, a whole lot?" Harry's words hardly made sense, but she nodded anyway. He held up his pinky and asked again if she really promised, and she hooked her pinky finger with his, making him giggle and then yawn.
"Okay, I believe you. Goodnight, sleep tight and don't let the bugs in the bed bite, cause if they bite you, you'll get sick and-" Annabelle pressed her fingers against Harry's lips, shushing him and making him giggle again before deciding to close his eyes and let himself fall asleep in the arms of the girl he loved.