Dead And Gone

Chapter Four

I laid in my bed, the phone to my ear trying to interpret what was going on. You're crazy, you're crazy, you're crazy. I kept telling myself these three words, but they never made any difference. 

"Harry?" the voice repeated, "Are you there?" 

I was in denial, not able to wrap my mind about the events unravelling in front of me. 

"Listen, you don't have to talk. Just listen." it informed me. 

I nodded, my mouth not being able to push out the words I wanted to say. 

"I understand you don't want to talk to me and that you probably hate me. I understand this, I do. I just want you to know that you're all I've been thinking about lately. Maybe you never want to see me again, I get that. Who would want to see me after you have every other girl in the whole world after you." 

I shook my head,"It's not like that." 

I looked down at the caller I.D. shit, private. "Jenny, if this is you just tell me." I'd recognize her voice anywhere, but I was so exhausted from the past few days I wasn't sure if I was asleep or awake at this point. 

"Baby, just tell me this is you." I sighed, "Please." 

Dead silence. 

"Your partner has disconnected and is no longer in service." 

"What? No, no, no." I pressed angrily at the buttons on the small screen, "Jenny answer me!" I pleaded. "I need to hear your voice, just one last time. Tell me that you love me." 

Still, no answer. 

I ended the call, the anger inside me bubbling over quickly, too quick for me to stop it. I threw the phone across the room and turned onto my side, facing my nightstand. I opened the drawer, slipping out my journal. The cover new, red, and comforting. 

FLASHBACK: 

"She's dead." the words rang in my ears, torturing me to no end. I grabbed a handful of curls in frustration. "Make it stop." 

Pulling out a journal from my nightstand wasn't the hard part. The hard part was writing everything down, reliving the events which caused me so much pain. 

"It's been a day since my baby stopped breathing, moving, living. I miss you dearly. I can't stand the thought of losing you, though I know I have. I know that you would want me to move on with my life, but I don't want to. You left me because I made a mistake. A mistake which I regret with every fiber of my being. I write this letter in your name, hoping that you will forgive me. I know that I've hurt you beyond repair, that what I did was a tragedy. But I'm begging you, forgive me.

When I heard those words spill out of your mother's mouth, I stood there, dumbfounded. My knees quickly gave in, sending me in a spiral, hitting the cold, hard, rough ground. The thing is, she's right. I deserve to be in this much pain. The things that have happened to you should be forgiven, god will forgive you for your sins baby. I have asked for forgiveness upon your part. I'm sure he will grant it to you. I know that this letter is all over the place, but I am no longer capable of thinking straight. 

The memory of what I did to you on your last few weeks haunt me. I feel like shit, and that's all I can feel. There's nothing I can do about it, all I can do is feel it. I ask myself one question over and over, if you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of your forever with a hole inside you that cannot be filled? Your spirit will last an eternity here, in suffering because I could not mend what those before me had caused. I cannot forget what happened to you, I do not want to forget."

-Harry Styles. 

END OF FLASHBACK.

I read for what seems like a lifetime, the paragraph being read and re-read. I begin to write for the day.

"Nothing unusual has happened to me today baby, I just thought I'd let you know of that. The boys have been thinking of sending me to therapy in hopes that I will heal. We all know that I am unable of healing without you here. I need you. I know that these words will never satisfy you, they will never be enough to show you how much I truly care for you. Because even if you're no longer here physically, I know you'll always be in my heart. I have re-read your letter that you wrote within the time span of your last hour. I cannot bring myself to even look at it anymore. I have tucked it somewhere where I can hopefully forget that I was the reason why you left. It remains hidden, it will remain there until the day I take my last breath.  I am sorry, and I do not know how to show you that I truly feel this way of you aren't even here to touch. It has been said 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree, the wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting it's sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone. 

Why can't you just come back? 

-Harry Styles. 

And suddenly he knew that if she killed herself, which she had, he would die. Maybe not immediately, maybe not with the same blinding rush of pain which she had most likely felt in her last minutes, but it would happen. For a person cannot live very long without a heart. 

a/n: Sorry this one is so short. I hadn't updated in a while and I was anxious to get this to you. The next one will come quicker and it will be longer, that I can assure you of. Well, hope you like it. COMMENT, VOTE, COMMENT, VOTE. Not continuing until I get 15+ comments and 10+ votes. c:

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