Gone for Good //HS

'When She Left'

All I can feel is my feet pounding against the pavement, both my head and heart throbbing. My head because of my racing thoughts, and my heart because I already missed her.

Her.

Thoughts of whatever it was that we had before, that I've been fighting for so damn hard,  find themselves in my mind. Her light brown, almost blonde hair falling around her face, and me tucking every piece behind her ears. Her piercing green-blue eyes that had the perfect amount gold flecks that could make them shine, even in the dark. Her soft, tan skin, and her pink lips.

Her.

Obsessive thoughts that clouded my mind clear, when I hear the sound of metal on metal. The train is starting, and my dramatic entrance that I've planned hasn't happened yet. I push myself to run farther, and harder. My lungs feel like they'll collapse, getting worse by each second.

I had no idea how long I had been running to reach her, and I didn't care. As long as I did, it would be okay.

The sound of metal fills my ears again, and suddenly I hear nothing else but my frantic feet, and my unsteady breath. I can see her train now, and the swirls of white and gray smoke spilling out around it from stalled movement.

She could be leaving any moment now.

I'm pushing people out of my way, can't they tell I'm in a rush? Don't they care?

Just as I softly nudge a small child out of my way, I reach the door.

My heartbeat is in my ears, and I can barely hear anything else. I can't seem to catch my breath, but I repeatedly bang on the door as hard as I can.

I bang and kick against the door even though I can see someone coming to open it for me.

"Will you stop that?" An old man with a mustard coloured cardigan yells out the open door that is now closing.

I'm so close, I can't be turned away.

I bang on the door one more time to get the old man to turn around.

I dig into my back pocket and pull out my ticket, pressing it up against the glass. I point down to my ticket.

He opens the door one more time, and I try to go inside but he places his hand against my chest to stop me.

"Your ticket." He holds out his aged hand, and I place the piece of paper in the middle of his palm.

He pulls his glasses up from the chain around his neck to his face, squinting as he reads the ticket.

"Harry Styles?" The cardigan wearing man asks me, and I nod.

"Listen, Harry, you weren't here on time. I'm sorry but I can't let you on." He genuinely looked sorry, his head drooping when he tries to hand me my ticket.

"You don't understand, I need to be on this train. I need to, I need to tell her I love her please." My emotions are getting the best of me as my hands pull at my hair.

"Alright, alright. You've got to calm down, I'll let you on but you're really holding us up. You're lucky I'm-" He looked at me like he knew what I had been through, and he looked at me like he was sorry for the sleepless nights and the days without daydreams. He was cut off by a younger man that was wearing a dark navy suit, and tie. 

This man was quite a contrast to the old man I had been acquainted with moments ago. Whoever this person was they looked angry, but not angry about something. He just had one of those faces that you had to wonder about. Thick, dark hair adorned his head, and gold expensive looking watches decorated his wrists.

"What is this?" Suit-guy asked, full spite in his tone.

"We've got another passenger, come on kid." The man pulled me by my arm, but was abruptly stopped.

"No you don't, we're already late and I'm sorry but you have missed the loading time. Your ticket," Suit-guy yanks my ticket out of the old mans hand and rips it in half, "Is non negotiable or refundable. Have a nice day." He allows the scraps to become a pile at my feet.

"Shoo." He waves me away and pulls away the only man who gave me hope of this working.

I'm still standing outside when the door closes, and the train starts moving.

This was it.

I couldn't and didn't do anything as I switched between watching the train move faster and faster, and watching  the pile of my tickets' scraps blowing away.

Everything was over, and I wasn't prepared for life without her.