son amour - j. potter

fifty nine

Author's Note: The first part of the chapter talks about a few sensitive topics, including survivors guilt, mentions of death, and mentions of self-harm, so viewer discretion is advised.

TW: listed above in authors note.

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The following days were a blur. I woke up hours later  in my own bed when the sun was beginning to set outside of the window. It took me a moment to remember, but when I did I began to sob again.

I cried until the bedroom door opened and Jolie walked in.

Her eyes were red and puffy as she climbed into bed next to me. We didn't say anything, we just sat together and cried.

Eventually, James came upstairs to check on me.

James's hazel eyes were red as well, but he seemed to be keeping it together better than I was.

Jolie muttered something and left the room, leaving James and me.

Everything that he said went in one ear and out the other as I stared out the window, watching the sunset fade into darkness.

James was saying something to me, but I wasn't processing it.

"Daphne-"

I blinked slowly, turning my head to look at James.

"You need to eat," James said softly.

I shook my head.

"Please," James continued, "Eat something or drink some water."

"No," I replied, my jaw clenched. "If I eat, I'll throw up."

James sighed, "If you won't eat or drink something then you should shower or go back to sleep."

I shook my head again, the tears falling down my cheeks.

"I can't-," I whispered, "Every time I close my eyes I see it again. I see the pools of blood, my hands and clothes covered in their blood. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think without thinking about what I saw."

Glancing over at James, he looked like he was going to cry. His lips were pursed and his jaw was clenched.

"I'm sorry that you were the one who found them."

I turned back towards the window and stared outside at the dark sky.

"I'm not the one you should be feeling sorry for. I'm not the one who got brutally murdered."

James sniffled, "Don't talk like that."

"Talk like what?" I muttered. "I don't deserve to be pitied, for all I know my brother and sister were the ones who killed them."

I didn't look at James, but I could tell that he was swallowing a lump in his throat.

"You don't know that."

I laughed sadly, "Well, I don't have any proof that it wasn't them do I?"

James sighed, "No."

I clenched my hands, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. It hurt just enough to take my mind off of the mental and emotional pain that was threatening to tear me to pieces.

"Exactly," I muttered, "This is all my fault."

"Daph-,"

"Don't," I said, "Don't try to make me feel better right now. I love you James, but I need to grieve in my own way."