Muse [h.s.]

31. numb

this is part of the double update! be sure to read chapter 30 before this!

🎵You Found Me — The Fray

Ella's POV

"I promise, I'll meet you there. Tom will drop me over, I just need to head to the villa for a change of clothes," Harry speaks, his arm thrown over the seat behind me as he leans into the car.

After our shower, Harry let me get changed in the bedroom. I could hear him speaking to someone, either Lydia or Jax, in the living room once he pulled on his clothes again.

We were supposed to go to my fath—to Henri and Ines's home. Lydia had said that Lucien called, and there were supposed to be people heading over to the home today to help prepare for another night of the wake before the funeral tomorrow.

I didn't get why I had to go; I mean, I know why. I just...I don't know how to feel.

Numb — that's the only word I can think of to describe how I feel towards everything. I can't make sense of any of my thoughts. I've just been dwelling in them since Elise called me back in New York.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I think I have to go to France, Lydia, Jax, and Brad wasted no time.

They didn't wait for me to say anything. Granted, I knew I was staying silent — I physically couldn't move my mouth to articulate the mess of thoughts in my head.

Brad had immediately started making phone calls to Chloe, my bartender, and the rest of the guys in charge on inventory for the nightclub.

Jax and Lydia rushed me back to their apartment, hurriedly tossing my clothing back into my suitcase and making phone calls to the airline to book our tickets to France. I just remember sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling void of any emotion.

The only thing I wanted was in Georgia. The only person who knew how I felt was Harry, but he wasn't here — I couldn't even muster up the energy to call him.

So, Lydia, Jax, and Brad whisked me off to France.

I've dealt with death and grief before, I've dealt with it firsthand with my mother's passing. But this felt different.

Maybe because I didn't really know him?

Or was it because I did in fact know him — he showed his true colors to me at that dinner so long ago.

I'm not...hurt. I'm not even saddened. I wouldn't say that I'm even grieving. I'm more angry than anything, but the sudden impact of this loss has hit me like a truck, so hard that I can't even make sense of my emotions.

Does that make me crazy?

Am I that fucked up of a person, that I don't feel grief?

I'm pulled from my thoughts when Harry suddenly reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My senses immediately come alive, as if he's the only thing anchoring me in the rough waters I've been in these past few days.

"You'll come right over?" I croak out, hating the way my voice has been sounding. I normally would hate being so dependent on someone, but it isn't just someone...it's Harry.

I needed him.

He's the only one who's brought me comfort, the only one who doesn't press me for answers, the only one who hasn't kept pestering "I'm sorry" to me over and over again.

I didn't lose anyone — why am I constantly being offered condolences?

Harry is the only one who knows just how I feel; he was there with me in France when Henri let me down, when he disrespected my mother. Harry saw how broken and hurt I was, and he never let me feel like my feelings were wrong.