Legacy // H.S

34.

'Treat me soft but touch me cruel'

*

I've gotten used to the quiet in the house, I think. It was unnerving at first, and even now I find myself jumping if something goes bump in the night, but I quite like the solitude. Every day at the warehouse, I'm surrounded by people. Endless numbers weaving in and out of the building, meetings with potential allies, calls with suppliers. Constantly talking to someone, to the point that my mouth feels dry, and my eyes are heavy.

Coming home to no noise, to some peace, is a luxury. It's never that loud when Harry is here, only our own voices heard, but I suppose this is the new normal right now.

Most evenings, I'll open a bottle of wine, cook something that reminds me of Harry while he's on the phone to me, and then we eat together. I go to bed, usually still on the phone with him, and then the cycle begins again when the sun rises. Early mornings and late nights, really. Just how Harry works.

This evening, though, we all decided to leave early on account of the hard work we've done this week. Three more gangs joined our side, and another's activities were leaked to the press. The Metropolitan police are being served blow after blow, and soon we'll be able to do the same with Hugo. Once the general public know what he's been up to, everyone he once relied on will be gone. It will be easy, I think. Almost too easy, but that's how things go in a way. All it takes is one defining moment, and then it ends.

Since I arrived back at the house, I've been busying myself with the plans and maps Harry keeps here. Just so I have something to focus on other than the fact that he's not here right now, and he hasn't been home in two weeks. He hasn't given a date yet, and I don't want to push it, but it's hard going from being in his company every day to none at all. Calls are great, I get to hear his voice; nothing compares to actually being in his presence, though.

I wonder how long it takes a person to stop missing someone. Whether it is even possible, to be honest. Does it feel the way a flower does when its petals drop, preparing for a rest before blooming with new life again, or is it just another layer of yourself being stripped away? There are many people I miss right now; too many.

I still think of Joe and the happy moments we shared. I remember our first months together, the milestones that followed and even the eventual end. I remember the last time I heard his voice, the fear that leapt through the phone and shattered my heart. And I remember seeing his lifeless body, beaten and bloody, looking the furthest thing from peace.

I think of my dad, every single day. The way he cared for me growing up. The way he guided me and motivated me. The way he loved me unconditionally. I still feel it, even if he's not here, because love is not measured in the presence of someone but the impact they leave.

And then there are the friends we were never prepared to say goodbye to. George, so young and full of wonder, sucked into something he had no business being involved in. Louis, so wise and selfless, choosing a home over a life because he couldn't go on without one. Graham, so helpful and kind, another victim to our families.

Sometimes, I even miss Toby. It's easy to hate him, but I'm not sure it always will be. Maybe I'll start to cling onto the friendship we once held, and the times I felt better for having him in my life. Perhaps people do not always have to be remembered as villains.

When this war ends, will we all be defined as such? If we win, Hugo will certainly live up to the name, but to some he will have those redeeming qualities that save him. If he wins, he'll make sure to tell the world that we were those that could not be trusted, and I doubt anyone would sing our praises, because they'll all be dead too.