Drowning

Sixty Five;

I'd gone home sick the moment I returned to work. I lied and told them I'd been throwing up all of my lunch time.

I didn't go straight home, though. I decided to take a trip. I wasn't thinking straight; my mind kept twisting and turning and tears kept falling beyond my control. I first went to go and get a triple shot espresso. The barista looked at me funny. My makeup had run and my eyes were red. I downed the shot and left.

Then, I wandered until I was outside of his place. I hated how lovesick I felt. Sleeping with him was obviously the cause of my pain and I hated myself for allowing it. I hated feeling like he was using me. I understood all of his reasoning and respected it, which was why I hadn't been forcing things. I'd been creeping along slowly, with some pathetic form of hope that eventually, maybe somewhere, the past would evaporate into thin air and we'd be back to how we were again before things became dark. It wasn't just the situation that hurt; it was feeling this way with Harry. I never thought I'd feel this way because of him.

I'd knocked countless times; my fist initially knocking politely, but soon it turned to angry knocking and calling his name through the door as I hysterically cried on his doorstep. My knees landed on the floor as I continued sobbing like a broken teenage girl outside of his apartment.

"Zahara?" his voice snapped me out of my state. My head shot up out of my hands, looking up at him. He stood tall behind me but bent down to level with me. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

The moment his face appeared, I felt stupid. I felt completely foolish and vulnerable.

"I-I don't know why I'm here." I cry. "I need to go-"

"No. Stay, Zar. Please. Stay." Harry sighs, looking at me with sorry eyes.

"I can't," I sob, shaking my head. "I don't know why I came here,"

"That's okay." Harry says soothingly.

"No, it's not, Harry." I hiss, pushing him further away from me slightly. He felt too close. I stood to my feet. "I hate feeling like this." I cry.

"Like what? Zar, talk to me, please."

"I feel like I'm dying inside," I sob. "I feel so heartbroken all of the time. I hate that I can't do anything to save this. I hate that I can't change anything. I hate that I can't have you in the way I need you. And I hate that I need you. It makes me feel weak and pathetic." I ramble, my voice cracking with every word as I tried my best not to continue sobbing on his doorstep.

"Come in, Zar. Please." Harry says softly. He opened his door.

"No." I whimper. "I just need a definite 'never'. I need to be able to move on properly."

"Just come inside for five minutes, would you?" Harry sighs, his eyes glistening over. He gulped.

"Okay," I say, too exhausted to fight him.

We went inside of his apartment. The smell was so familiar and comforting and reminded me of when we used to live together, every time I stepped foot in here. It still felt like home. He still felt like home, even with my heart pumping in his hand as he squeezed out every last drop of life from it, he still felt like my home.

"Do you want a coffee?" Harry asks me. "You look like you could do with one,"

"No, Harry."

"Okay." he nods.

Harry took a seat on his sofa and patted the space beside him. I sat down.

"When I was in rehab, I wrote letters to you. Every single day without fail, I wrote to you." Harry tells me, looking down at his hands in his lap. They were clasped and his thumbs were twiddling against one another. "I didn't think I'd ever give them to you. Or maybe I did, I don't know. It was the only thing that made me still feel connected to you, somehow." he tells me.