Harry’s POV
I have been sitting on the edge of my once shared bed. I have been like this for the past few days, not doing anything but staring at the wall or sobbing my heart out. I have no reason to move, the one source of light in my life had suddenly been put out, leaving me in a confusing darkness. Zayn had committed suicide. It was just so sudden. Zayn had stopped cutting almost 6 months ago, and his depression had gone visibly down. But maybe he had just tricked us into thinking that he was ok, and had slowly built up his walls for months until they suddenly broke, bringing Zayn down with them. I was never depressed, but the fame did get to me. I had cut once, and Zayn had found me. We made a promise that we would both stop, but now Zayn is gone. He had broken his promise, and now there was no one stopping me from breaking mine. Zayn was my rock and I was his. We couldn’t stand without each other, and we kept each other from harm, from ourselves. But my rock was gone; making it easier for me to fall into the deep hole it had left in its place. I was slowly inching closer to falling, and once I had fell, there would be no turning back.