Letters to you (Narry AU)

Letter 07

Saturday September 25th, 2013

Dear Niall,

It’s been another three weeks, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to write to you again. I’ve never really been one to be poetic, but another week has passed and I long for you. I crave your sweet touches, tender kisses, hushed promises. I crave you and I miss you.

I know it’s been months, but it still feels fresh. It still feels like the morning after that night, waking up with tear stains and a half empty closet. Waking up without you. It took me a while to realize everything, for reality to set in. And now I wish I was still in that blissful confused state of ignorance. It would hurt less.

I remember waking up, confused. My head hurt, so freaking bad and I know it wasn’t a hangover because I didn’t drink the night before- nothing more than half a scotch and coke. My face felt warm and sticky, dried tears leaving a trail down my cheek. There was this heavy weight on my chest, but at the same time it felt empty and hollow. I realized later that it was the feeling of loss. When you left, you took my heart with you. I didn’t remember anything past going out last night, I didn’t even remember how I got home. I glanced up to the closet and saw that half of it was missing and then I began to panic, and with that panic came small pieces of that night.

And then I was absolutely crushed. I broke down right there, on our bed- yes ours- for hours until Zayn showed up. He was livid, you had told him what happened, and before anything else he picked me up from the bed and tossed me to the ground. He was cursing and screaming and kicking me, but all I could do was cry. I just took it, all of it. And in the end I had lots of bruises and 3 broken ribs. And after all of that, he sat on the ground, his back against the bed and he watched me crying on the ground. It took him a few minutes to ask, but eventually he did. It was just a quiet ‘why?’ that echoed off the walls in the quietness of the room. He was confused, he said he thought we were happy and I told him we were. That it was nothing like what it seemed. He didn’t believe me, and he was getting agitated again. So, right then and there I broke down and told him everything, everything that had happened that night. He was confused with me, there were still bits and pieces that didn’t make sense.

It was only when my sobbing caused me to cough- and I coughed up blood- that we finally moved from the positions we were glued to. He picked me up, and drove me to the hospital. And after that visit everything made sense, but I made him swear that he wouldn’t tell you. I needed to do it, do it myself. It wasn’t something he had to deal with. He was hesitant, but he agreed.

Looking back now, I wished I had let him beat me to death. It would have been easier than all of this. My life ended the second you walked out that door, and it will never be the same no matter how hard I try to make it that way. I’ll never be okay.

Before Gemma took me to the therapist, Zayn had begged me to go. He said that it would help me, help me from falling apart. I couldn’t tell you if it would have or not- fixed me, saved me- but I refused. Maybe that’s why everything has just started to fall apart. Now that Zayn’s gone, I have no idea what is happening with you. For all I know you could be dead, or getting married. Both make me shudder, thinking I wont be the one who gets to love you for the rest of my life kills me. But then again, I think you would rather be dead than take me back- even if you don’t have the whole story.

I’m ready to tell you what happened that night, to answer your questions. All you have to do is ask.

But in the meanwhile, I’ll tell you what has happened recently with me. I’ve been seeing Lily 4 times a week, but I overheard her and Gemma talking and she says I’m just getting worse. That disappoints me, because all she tells me is that I look like I’m doing better. She’s a liar. It seems everyone is. Zayn said he would stick with me, no matter what, he lied. Gemma says she just wants to help, she lied.

She said that she just wants to help, to get me better but I know she’s lying. It’s only been a few weeks and already she’s on the phone begging my mum to come and take care of me so she can leave. She says she wants to help, but she never fails to point out that I put myself here, that this is all my fault. I’ve decided to fake everything. I pretend to smile, pretend to be happy, pretend to take my pills, pretend to eat. Pretend I’m over you. Pretend, pretend, pretend. It’s all fake: the smiles, the happiness, me getting over you, me doing better. I hate it, having to pretend so I’m not a burden to my own sister.

Luckily, she’s bought it. She’ll be leaving soon, in two days actually. Back to Uni, back to her life where she doesn’t have to babysit her fucked up little brother. It’s been weeks since I’ve started cutting, I’m sure the signs are all there but no one has noticed. At least, no one has let on if they have. It’s starting to lose its effect, like when you take drugs so often your body gets used to it. I’ve had to cut a little deeper to feel the same relief, who knows maybe one day I’ll cut too deep and do everyone a favor. My last report with the therapist has been good, and that’s only encouraged Gemma to leave even more.

Gem found me writing to you two weeks ago, and since then had been watching me like a hawk. Now that she thinks I’m doing better, she hasn’t been watching me anymore. She’s too caught up in packing her things so she can leave. It helps, I don’t have to pretend as much. I get to hide away in my room for much longer now, and she’s not constantly checking up on me.

But don’t worry, I’m fine. That’s what I tell anyone who asks anymore, I’ve said it so much I’ve even got myself convinced. Truth is, I’m not fine, but that’s fine. I’m not hanging from the ceiling from a rope tied around my neck so I’m fine. I’m alive right? That’s something, although I can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing quite yet.

I know Zayn hasn’t told you what happened though, because you haven’t responded and I’m sure you would have something to say about it all. Like I said, I want to be the one to tell you. I’ve gotten all my memories back from that night, although I wish I hadn’t.

Hey Princess, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know everything is my fault, I know it is. But, I’m still so sorry.

I miss you,

Harry xxx

P.S. I still love you.

P.P.S. Happy belated birthday, I hope you got everything you wanted.