The Broken Beat |One Direction|HS|

Chapter 41

Sitting on the plane, next to a young couple, I go over everything that’s happened. I saw my parents again after four years. How much of a shock their faces back in my world was and how I knew then and there those four years of chances I had reserved for them had vanished into oblivion. And the one that had brought them back to me, out of the kindness of his heart ; Harry. Well, it’s not completely Harry’s fault. Kali, the wicked evil witch talked him into it, that must be it. He couldn’t have done it himself, right? Everything I’ve ever thought about Kali was wrong. The fact that she could actually have a heart under that cold little façade of hers was completely misbelieved and contrived. Stupid me for making another mistake. Stupid me for trusting someone again. Stupid me for trusting and putting my faith in the one and only Harry Styles. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 I continue to torture myself as the plane takes off and the flight attendant turns off the lights since it is nearly one in the morning on New Year’s Day. I considered the idea of sleeping but thought better of it. Wouldn’t want to ruin anyone’s New Year with my dreams now, would I? So, here I am; trying to hold in my tears as the people around me live their lives, oblivious of the broken girl just a few feet away. Every now and then, for the next six hours, I’d let a tear or two fall and drop into my hand just so I could tell I wasn’t numb. So I knew I could still feel, physically that is. Mentally, I’m blank. I can’t even process the reason I’m crying, why I feel so shattered, completely and utterly shattered, torn into pieces and left to be blown away by the wind. And emotionally? I’m drained. Entirely drained, I can’t feel anything anymore. But that might be a good thing, right?

Grabbing some scrap piece of paper from the pouch in front of me, I ask the flight attendant for a pen. Giving it to me gruffly, her eyes soften as she sees mine, swollen, red and puffy from crying. Thanking her quietly, I open the top and begin to write. It seems weird, doing this after such a long time. Pouring my feeling out on paper seems so foreign to me now, since for the past couple of months I’ve had people to tell them to. Guess I’ve just gone in a circle, ending up alone once again. But I can’t complain, I did this to myself, didn’t I? Focusing on something other than the physical toll my body was currently experiencing, I let the words pour out of me like they used to. Truthfully, I’d thrown out countless notebooks full of my thoughts, of my feelings, throughout the years. I never kept any of them because what was the point? They would just be a constant reminder of my past; I had already had enough of those in my life already. But right now, I only had a scratch piece or paper, a worn out pen in danger of running out of ink, and a mind that was blank of emotions, just words that hardly had any meaning. But that’s what I love about this, I couldn’t connect my feelings with words, yet I could still write to my heart’s content. Quickly, the words flow out of my mind, through the pen and onto the paper. Soon enough, I was done. Only a few phrases scatter the page as I reread it for the thousandth time in my head.

Lights are darker

The sun is brighter

The summer wastes away to fall

The chill comes on us

Colors get brighter as

The sky gets dimmer

The leaves rain down on us

As they disappear under the snow

The grass turns bitter

And the sky finds its emotions

And I can’t help but compare us

To the changing seasons

I read it over and over for the next four hours, until the plane landed and everyone unloaded. Deciding not to throw this specific piece of paper away, I fold it into fourths and put it snuggly in my back pocket, along with my credit card I thank God I’d grabbed this morning. Having had called Erin while I was waiting to board, I’m relieved to see her standing there as I exit the plane, bundled up in a large winter coat and a pair of furry boots. Running up to her, I throw my arms around the small frame of my friend and make sure she’s real; that all of this is real and not just another one of my cruel nightmares.