alive [h.s.]

Chapter 62

Allison's POV

The darkness. It's overwhelming. There's so much darkness. Inside and out, everything is dark. Harry died two weeks ago. Every nerve in my body closed down that day and they have yet to open up shop again. I can't remember the last actual meal I ate. Niall tries to get me to eat but I always reject him. I've tried. I've tried to eat, but my stomach is unable to hold anything down.

I sit and stare at a wall most of the time. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. We've had no luck in actually finding out what happens to Harry, despite how hard we've tried.

Amongst all my thoughts, one continues to nag at me. Which is, what do I do now? I have no clue. Do I continue life as I would've if I had never met Harry? Do I try to find someone else? I couldn't. I know I couldn't. The kind of love I have for Harry could never be mimicked for someone else. I don't think I can feel the way I do ever again. Though, Harry felt the same way when Kate died, and he managed to let her go. Maybe it's to soon to think about that. This is the most brain power I've used in weeks.

Here I am, surrounded by darkness. Dark dresses, dark suits, and dark cloudy skies. It seems the whole universe is mourning Harry's death. He'd never believe it. He's always thought the universe was against him, now it seems as though it misses his presence.

I walk hand in hand with Niall. He's been immensely helpful the last fifteen days. He doesn't try to sugar coat things or promise me it will get better. He empathizes with me and he tries to understand. A lot of the time he'll just sit with me and say nothing at all, which is sometimes the most comforting thing he can do. I appreciate it so much more than a habitual "sorry for your loss" statement. Those don't hold any sincerity. I know Niall kind of understands what I'm going through. He was Harry's best friend.

He's managed to make me laugh when it was the last thing I wanted to do. He's such a genuine person, I can't believe Addy is sharing him with me. But, I feel for her as well. Harry was like her brother. God, this is too hard. Harry always thought he had no one. It's only until after he's gone that I realize how many lives he's touched and how many people loved him.

Niall and I walk with the rest of the congregation outside to the cemetery, where Harry is meant to be buried. It's awful. My first trip visiting the town where Harry grew up in, and it's to attend his funeral. It was supposed to be to meet his parents, then it turned into a wedding, then a death, and now a funeral. Some of his childhood friends have all gathered today to mourn him. I recognize one of them as being the man that spoke to us outside the clinic a few weeks ago when I found out I couldn't have kids. Mark, I think.

Even with Harry's mother, father, and best friends around, I know that I love him more than anyone here. I know I do. Our love is different. It's pure. It's sincere. It's been through hell and back and is still the strongest I've ever witnessed. I speak of it in present tense, of course. I don't love him any less than I did fifteen days ago. As a matter of fact, I know I love him more. Nothing is going to change that.

The crowd surrounds the vast hole in the ground, made to hold Harry's body for the remainder of time. A man stands on a high podium and everyone looks up but me. My eyes are glued to the smooth charcoal casket lying next to the man. As twisted as it sounds, I want to open it. I want to open it and have Harry open his eyes from some strange nap or coma he's in. I don't want any of this to be real. I don't want his body to be hauled into the ground. I don't want him to be dead. I don't want to be here.

It's not until the man at the podium starts speaking that I tear my eyes away from the casket.

"Friends," he begins looking to one side of the crowd, "family," he continues, looking to the other side, "bride-to-be," he says and looks directly at me. It feels as though the air has been stolen from me once again. Ouch. I mean, was that necessary?