Regal [h.s]

Chapter Twelve

"You don't have to be afraid because we're all the same and we know that sometimes it all gets a little too much"

♔ ♔ ♔

Amalia

I lingered in Cosy's room for longer than I'd like to admit. My eyes taking in her beautiful room that Harry had created for her, noticing every toy and picture on the wall, I looked over the whole room whilst trying to calm my nervous mind.

I had never seen Harry quite like that before. Sure, I had seen him visibly upset and in distress, but he looked like he was going to have a mental breakdown right at my toes and all I could do was run away.

I had never had to deal with something like this before. Frankie had had her fair share of meltdowns over boyfriends or something our mother had said, but I had never seen her anxious.

The word anxiety was new to me. When I was growing up, my parents steered clear of any mental health topics, we were educated in every other subject, we could tell you everything you needed to know about space or how things are made, but mental health was never covered within our household.

It wasn't until I was older that I grasped the true meaning of the word anxiety. And I fear that is exactly what Harry is experiencing. I don't know for sure, I can't be certain, but from what I've gathered, he seemed to be having some kind of panic attack and because I've never seen this before, I ran.

But now it was time to face my fears and leave Cosy peacefully sitting on her bedroom floor. She's more than happy with her dolls in her hand, lining them along the floor. I have no fear of her getting hurt again, because she's a child, that's what children do, and what happened on Monday was purely an accident.

I can't say that Harry shares my peace.

I know he blames himself for what happened to Cosy, he thinks he's doing a good job of hiding it, but it's clear for everyone to see. I can tell it's constantly on his mind, playing over and over again, reminding him of the moment where he had no control and couldn't act fast enough.

"Harry" I speak quietly, slowly walking down the stairs, a little scared of what might be waiting for me. I have no idea what state Harry could be in now.

It's when I get no answer that I start to panic a little. Perhaps the feeling of anxiety taking over me too.

"Harry" I call out again, wrapping my cardigan across my body for some sense of comfort.

"Harry what are you-" the air leaves my lungs when I finally find him sitting at the dining table, five bottles of alcohol in front of him whilst he frantically pours them all into one glass. Mixing the toxins together to send him to a more peaceful place.