The House Across The Street • L.S.

2.

"Do you ever think about me?" Harry asked.

Silence.

"One day, someone will save me, right?" He asked again. Tears piercing at his eyes.

Silence.

He tucked his cold hands into his purple sweater and blinked the tears away as quickly as he could. He felt the all too familiar weight of sadness rush over him as he waited for an answer he knew would never come.

Everyday, Harry walked to the cemetery where his sister, Gem, was buried. He missed her more than he knew how to put into words. He sits with her for at least an hour every day, usually at night after his foster family fell asleep.

Harry hated leaving, but he knew he could only stay until ten. The cemetery security would always drive past him to remind him they were closing soon. There were many nights the young boy would fall asleep next to his sisters head stone, curled in a ball.

The security would always end up calling Harrys foster father to come pick the boy up, which resulted in Harry getting in serious trouble for sneaking out.

He missed his sister so much, not only did he feel alone without her, but he was alone. He had nobody, nothing, and he knew it. Harry was raised by a single mother, Anne. His older sister, Gemma, would frequently be the only one around to comfort him though.

Anne passed away when Harry was 6 years old. Almost ten years ago to the day, actually. Harry missed his Mum, but he didn't remember her as well as he'd like, so the grief wasn't unbearable. More than anything, he wished he knew what it was like to have a Mother.

Harry was suddenly jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of his phone alarm ringing loudly in his pocket. Ten minutes till Ten. Harry wiped his cold, wet face one last time before standing up and telling his sister goodbye, for now.

Harry always promised to come back the next day. He waved at the stone marked with his sisters name, said he loves her, and turned around to walk home.