Come Over When You're Sober PT.2| A Gustav Ahr Fanfiction| Hellboyyy_

Come Over When You're Sober-10

 (A/N: Welcome to the final chapter! This is the end of Aaliyah's story guys and I'm so glad so many of you were here for the ride. I'm excited to start revising since I think this story definitely could've been good like the first book, it wasn't as well written. I don't want to hold you up so the rest of this note will be at the end of the chapter.)

Five Years Later...

I never knew death could feel the same after experiencing it so many times before. I thought it would hurt less after a few times, I thought I would be able to numb everything and just move on with my life. But with this, I wasn't able to do that. I wasn't able to scare off the feeling of grief and sorrow, I couldn't make the tears stop flowing like times before. 

 You see love is supposed to fix these things, love is supposed to be all healing. But love didn't heal the broken heart, it couldn't rid the nightmares that terrorized me in the dark. It only haunts me in the mindset of manic, knowing I'm too far gone to manage. It knows in the moment I am too scared to touch him because I might just pass whatever I am feeling to him, like a transfer paper to skin. 

I had to learn to raise a child on my own, knowing I was nowhere near ready for motherhood. I don't know how to take care of a child, a small little being resting in my arms who depends on me or everything. And although he is my world, I know I wouldn't give him exactly that. I know his father is proud, I know he's watching from above. 

Amiir in Arabic means prince, so that's what I named my son. He is royalty, he is innocence, he is honesty, and all that is right. 

The letter 'S' is my least favorite letter now. I had lost my lifetime lover, the father of my child. So when my son gets older, and someone asks about his parents, he has to tell them that he only has one. He only has a mother, because drugs were are the leading cause of his father's death. Not because he took them, but because someone, a liar, persuaded him to take a drug they knew was laced. 

I have to live with that thought for the rest of my life. I have watched my now, five-year-old son, grow up without his biological father. I have to watch my baby boy, who has done nothing to deserve this, hurt like I did the day his father died. 

"Mom, can we go see grandma and grandpa?" Amiir ran into my room, excitement bursting through him. "Yes, go get your shoes on. Oma made your favorite and Opa has a present for you and Omas."  His little feet pitter-pattered against the floorboards as he ran to his room to finish getting ready. The curtains behind me were drawn, making me instinctively turn around.

"Are you coming with us to Liza's?" The brunette boy stood in front of me, a large grin on his face. "Of course, I'd love to go see Amiir's grandparents with you." His arms wrapped around my waist, bringing me close to him. "How're you feeling today?"

He had asked me that question for the past four years. It started off being every other day, but now it's become his habit to ask every day of every week. "I'm okay, but we need to go because Karl has a present for Amiir." I dragged him over to the closet, making him pick my outfit for me. "You've always looked good in black and white." Suits had become my normal attire, especially since I took over the family business. 

My father is in jail serving several federal charges and won't be getting out for a while. Gratefully, I was still on his good side when he was arrested. He appointment everything to me, meaning the cars, the houses, and the business. I hadn't spoken to mom or Dani since it all. I refused to get manipulated by the two of them once more. 

"Then the suit it is. I'll be down in a minute," He closed the door behind him as he went to check on Amiir. My eyes scanned over my body that stood in front of the mirror. I traced the scar on my shoulder, the stitches from my C-Section. My eyes lingered on the date imprinted in my side. '11.15.17' was written in Roman numerals. 

"Mom, hurry up!" My suit jacket clung to my body as I put it on, pulling my hair out from underneath. 

That's it, that is the end. Sometimes there is no more to a story, and sometimes there are no happy endings, sometimes it just-

"Mom hurry up so we can go see Oma and Opa!"