ISN'T SHE LOVELY | hs

17 | MOVE ON

Trigger warning: Mentions of emotional abuse.

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| HARRY |
Sunday 25th December, 2022

"Grow a spine and get out of the fucking car, dickhead."

I'm trying to give myself a pep talk, but it's not working. I've been parked up outside of my Mum's house for the last thirty minutes, and I still haven't shifted my arse.

I really am nothing more than a coward, as well as a screw-up.

It's Christmas and for the first time since I was a kid, it's a white one. There's a good covering of snow across the London suburbs of Richmond, and it's drifting down slowly from the nighttime sky, too. It really is beautiful and I know that if Micki were with me right now, we'd be out in it.

She'd be on her back, arms and legs spreading repeatedly as she made a snowy version of herself with giggles pouring from her lips. I'd be fussing over her catching her death, trying my best to get her to her feet, but she'd pull me down on purpose.

We'd laugh together, but the sounds would stop. I'd look at the snowflakes caught on her long lashes with my hand cupping her beautiful face; our noses red and lips chapped and cold.

They'd soon be warm, though. A gentle kiss would do the trick.

But there is no kiss to be shared. No warmth. No chapped lips. No red noses. No hands cupping a beautiful face. No snowflakes on long lashes. No laughter. No pull. No fussing.

Micki doesn't make herself out of snow, because she isn't here with me. She hasn't been with me for seventeen days, and I'm not sure how many more I can go without her.

It's a little after seven p.m, and Christmas is almost over. The original plan for the holiday was that Micki and I would arrive at Mum's at around noon. We'd exchange and open presents. I'd help my mother make dinner. Micki and my sister would eat chocolate and commentate. We'd round it all off with games, movies and more chocolate. It'd be a perfect family Christmas.

The three of them have likely done all of that. I decided to skip out on most of it, and I'm only here now because Mum broke her heart to me over the phone when I suggested not coming around at all.

She's pissed at me like everybody else is, but her heart is too big. She didn't want me spending Christmas alone, even though that's what I deserved and wanted.

There was no way that Mickayla was going to be the one doing that, and I don't think it was ever an option for my family. I haven't spoken to riot girl since the night she found me, the night I fucked up. I wouldn't be surprised if the thought crossed her mind that she should be the one to bail, though.

If it did, my sister and Mum didn't let it happen; the latter picking Mickayla up from her flat this morning with SD in tow. I know this because she texted me to say so, to give me a heads up that my girls and adopted fur child were here and that I should be, too.

I was still in bed when the message came through this afternoon after another night of restless sleep. I haven't slept much lately. I can't sleep without her next to me.

I haven't worked out at all, either, nor have I meditated. The studio's workload has piled up. My interest in everything is zero. My will for caring about anything but Mickayla is non-existent.

I haven't gone looking for sympathy from anyone. Even if I had I wouldn't have received it. I'm the one that screwed up, and my loved ones have made sure that I know that if I didn't already.