On Top [H.S.]

Chapter 41

*TW: Mild/Moderate Panic Attack*

Harry's POV

Everything hurts.

Everything fucking hurts but I don't have the right to be upset by it because I did this to myself, and I did this to Ophelia.

It's all my fault.

As I stare at myself in the mirror, I almost don't even recognize who I am anymore. I'm covered in bruises from head to toe. As per usual, I look like a fucking rainbow but this time it's not just across my torso, but my arms, legs, and face too.

I've been throwing myself into the ring ever since I fled her place. I honestly don't even know how long it's been since that fucking awful night, the alcohol makes everything hazy.

It tastes good though.

I told Matt I wanted more fights and he denied me at first until I threw a punch at his cheek. He did what I asked for after that, probably realizing that it was best to just listen to me rather than try and argue. I've been having two to three fights a night ever since, not really giving myself a break.

It's keeping me busy, not giving me much time to dwell on what the fuck I did. I fight, drink, knock out, go to the gym and then repeat. I know that I've been doing this for at least a few days now, making it a routine.

My new routine.

At least this is making me feel something though, I feel as though I've been fucking numb ever since I ripped Lia's heart out.

I miss her so much. I miss her smile, her laugh, her lips, her touch, her food, her eyes....I just miss her. I'd do anything to kiss her one last time, to hold her one last time, to just even fucking see her one last time. I'm a shell of a person, so fucking hollow from the inside out.

She will always be my teddy, and I will always be her H.

I refuse to have sex with anyone else, despite how much of a nice distraction it'd be. I'd feel like I'm fucking cheating. I don't want anyone in that way right now anyways, no one would feel as good as her. I only want her touching me like that, seeing me like that, being with me like that.

It will always only be her.

I was thinking about us the other night before I cried myself to sleep, and about the last time we slept together. I probably laid there in bed for an hour, hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I made no moves to stop them. It hit me then why I loved that last position we were in so much.

We made love.

That realization fucking killed me. I can't believe we ended off on that note. That unknowingly, it was the best sex we've ever had. And the last.

If I had known what was happening soon after, I would have cherished her more. I would have looked at her for a little while longer, smiled at her more, probably even told her that I love her.

But it's good I didn't. It would have wrecked me even more if I had told her I love her, only to rip the painful bandaid off right after. It would have ruined me and I wouldn't have been able to do what I did, I know it.

It would have made letting her go so much harder.

I hope she doesn't blame herself, but I know she will. I didn't want to tell her the truth because I know her, she'd stay with me despite my efforts to try and push her away, and I couldn't let that happen. If I'm able to do one good thing in this world, I want it to be keeping Ophelia safe.