Prove It (H.S)

Chapter Twenty

It's been five days now since my grandmother died, and I haven't gone back to school. My parents have tried several times to buy me a ticket home, but I refuse. I need to be here right now, I need to be home where she was. I just need this time to be sad and to remember her.

Harry has stayed here by my side. He's been here with me, even though I'm not really there, I am physically, but not mentally. I haven't spoken much, eaten much, or really done anything other than sit in my room, wrapped in blankets and cried.

No one will understand. No one will understand how much I loved that woman, how much I needed her in my life. She was my role model, my best friend, the love of my life. She's gone now though, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to get through it.

Harry walks in, holding a cup of lemonade. "You should drink something," he says, setting it on the table. I nod slightly, staring at the wall. I really should thank him. I should thank him for staying with me, missing classes for me, not caring to see his friends for me, and most importantly for loving me even in this state. The problem is, I can't get the words out without bursting into tears.

He sits down next to me on my bed. "Claire, please, please talk to me." He's looking at me, I can feel it. I need to say something to him. He deserves it, for me to speak to him. "I need her," is all I can say before the tears start rolling down my cheeks. My voice is low and raspy from not being used for so long.

He grabs my chin and turns my head to look at him. As soon as our eyes meet, his soften. "I know, baby, I know." He brings me into his arms, cradling me like a child. "I know you need her, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Claire, that this happened." Hearing some one else say it out loud crushes my heart. I break into full on sobs, hiding my face in Harry's black shirt.

"Shh, shh," he coos, running his palm down my blonde hair. He pulls me away from his embrace and stares into my eyes. He smiles slightly, wiping away my tears with his thumb. "I really need to get back to LA, Claire. Missing all these classes is not good for either of us. Your parents offered to buy me a plane ticket for tomorrow morning, and I accepted it. They bought you one, too."

Sadness, frustration and panic flood through me and I pull myself away from him, off the bed. "I don't want the damn ticket! I don't want to go back to school! I want to be here!" I scream, causing Harry's eyes to go wide. I'm breathing heavily as I begin to pace the room. "Claire-," he begins but my upset state gets the better of me. "Just go, Harry, you've done enough. Just go."

His face falls at my words and he walks out the door, his head lowered. Once he leaves, I scream at the top of my lungs. "Dammit!" I pull at my roots, crouching to the ground, choking on my tears.

I let him walk away, when he's probably the only reason I've stayed sane these past five days. I snapped, and now he's leaving without me in the morning.

I know I should go down the hall after him, turn him around and plant a big kiss on those pink lips and say,"I'm sorry, I love you," but I can't. All I can do is sit on the floor of my childhood bedroom, and sulk in my sobs.

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Harry's POV~

I walk down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the living room, where Geoff and Ruth are sitting. Claire was so hurt, so I know better than to think that she was truly upset with me. She was just taking her pain out on me.

When Geoff notices me, he lowers the book he had been reading. "I heard the screaming. Is she alright?" He looks tired, his eyes sad. I shake my head and sigh before sitting on a brown leather chair. "She doesn't want to go back, but she told me to," I say and Ruth bites her lip, her eyes beginning to water again.

"I don't know if she'll ever get through this, Geoff," she says, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Mr.Hoffman smiles comfortingly at his wife. "Of course she will, Ruth. It'll just take time. As for you, Harry, do you still want the ticket if she isn't going with you?" I think hard about his question before answering.

"Yes, sir. If that's alright." He nods, approvingly before lifting the book back up, ending our conversation. Ruth gets up off the couch, and stops to pat my shoulder before making her way to the kitchen.

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Claire didn't join us for dinner, again, so I was stuck with her parents, making small talk while eating the various dishes that have been dropped off as condolences. I walk slowly up the stairs, carrying a plate of Alfredo pasta for Claire, just as I've done every night since Grace's death. I open the door slowly, closing it quietly behind me. The lights are off in her room, so I'm careful not to trip on anything.

After setting down the plate, I turn the desk lamp on. I find Claire, not at all asleep, hugging her knees to her chest, her cheeks stained with tears. I rush to her side, putting my hand on her knee. She shies away from me, letting out a quiet whimper as she does so.

"Claire, are you okay?" I know what I ask is a stupid question, but at this point, I don't know what else to say. She slowly turns her head to me, her jaw clenched, fresh tears in her eyes. "She's gone," is all she says before turning away again.

Her mood is unreadable, and I find her dismissiveness disturbing. "I know, love, and if I could bring her back, I would." She twitches at my words before looking at me once again.

"But you can't bring her back, Harry, no one can. So why don't you stop acting like you can fix all of this and just let me have this time to grieve, why can't I just have this time? Alone!" She yells. Claire isn't herself, her eyes are bloodshot and I realize that I've been smelling alcohol since I walked into the room.

My eyes dart to the foot of her bed, where an almost empty bottle of whisky lays. I grab it and lift it out of her reach, as she tries to take it from me. "Drinking? Claire, this isn't you, you don't drink," I say and she's glaring at me. "I do now," she says, turning around and laying on her side, facing away from me.

As I leave the room, the bottle in hand, I decide not to tell her parents about this. It won't make anything better, that's for certain. I hide the bottle before going to the bathroom to take a shower. Tomorrow I'm leaving, and I know now for sure, there's no way in hell Claire will want to come with me.