Chapter Six

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Hi hi! And now we get into a little bit of the aftermath. 

I am challenging myself to show instead of explicitly say when it comes to character reactions and emotions. Let me know if that's coming across or if its overkill. Always tryna improve! 

Love you guys <3

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Callie Lyon

I hate crying.

I had sworn that after Jack's death, I had completely emptied myself of tears and the need to cry ever again. It has been years since I felt the sting of waterworks falling down my cheeks.

Tears always evoke unwanted questions.

What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay?

All questions I have no desire answering. Because that risks reopening a wound so deep it can never be properly sutured or sealed. I have gotten this far with my patchwork of emotional bandages, and I never intend to lift them up to take a peek at what is happening beneath.

It would simply hurt too much.

So, I am furious at Harry.

I'm furious he made me cry and in turn, confront my inner turmoil. Furious he called me a bitch. Furious he took my words and threw them painfully back in my face. Furious he surprised me by making me feel safe and heard, only for it to not actually mean anything. Furious he tried to kiss me...and furious at myself because I would have let him had he tried again.

But mostly, I'm furious he had breathed a semblance of life into the memory of Jack only to crush it so suddenly and brutally.

The irony is cutting. It almost feels like losing Jack to drugs all over again.

Part of me wants to turn around, march back up to that trampoline and scream at him. Scream until my lungs go raw. The emotions are practically clawing at my throat, and I swallow hard to keep them at bay.

The anger. The devastation. The pain.

But I won't. I can't.

Because at the end of the day, it's not Harry's fault. I am the one who placed him on an inflated pedestal. One he never asked for or is even aware of. How is he to know the power his words and opinions hold over me?

The seed of emotion had been planted far before meeting him. It's not his fault his unexpected presence is the equivalent to a much-needed rainy day, allowing those seeds to grow.

So instead, I keep myself walking forward towards the house and away from the trampoline. Just before I reach the large sliding glass door, I pause to take a handful of measured breaths and wipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my tracksuit. Thankfully, the dim lighting will likely help to make my puffy, water-rimmed eyes less noticeable.

All I have to do it make it to the front door and call my driver without drawing any attention to myself. I just want to leave.

With a controlled exhale, I tug open the door and allow the thumping music and loud chatter to wash over me. Pulling my shoulders back to feign confidence, I step back into the lively kitchen. I keep my features neutral but cast my gaze downwards, hoping not to catch anyone's eye.

However, I'm not even three steps inside when I hear my name being called out. Usually, Desmond's voice is a comfort, but right now I have to stifle a groan. I look up and see him bounding towards me with Niall not far behind him.

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⏰ Last updated: Nov 08 ⏰

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