Fear

Chapter Twenty-One

A/N

I don't know how to apologize anymore. 

I'm sorry. 

Shivers.

She will never forget the shivers.

They start at her toes, quick racking goosebumps, they tingle at the ends of her fingers, and flow into her head.

At first you don't notice them, but they act so quickly that you forget you're freezing, until you're already frozen.

...

Harlow wonders if she should go after Louden, wonders if she should go after Laney.

Wonders if she should just go.

And how easy would it be?

To get up and leave, leave behind all of it, it'd be so unbelievably easy in that moment, all she needed was the whim, the undoubting whim to leave.

And she didn't have it.

Not now.

Not when she loved him.

...

The steps that echo against the ground are the sort of deafening that makes Harlow flinch twice.

The first time is because of the noise, the second time is because she knows it's her own doing.

She can't help but feel utterly and horribly responsible, even if it isn't her fault, even if she had nothing to do with this.

But she does, and she feels even more responsible once she can hear the sobs.

They're deep and guttural, but pain-filled. Like an animal full of regret, an animal in the deepest form of pain. Short, choppy, angry.

And it breaks Harlow's heart.

When she reaches the top of the stairs the air is cold, heavy with the air of pain, sloppy with the atmosphere of sorrow.

It arises memories from lives long lived and passed, and the heartbreak shatters through everyone.

Every sob is like a deep knife in Harlow's heart. And every cry is like twisting it further in.

She loves him, and loving someone hurts more than anything.

Loving someone proves that she can lose that she can lose her heart, that she can lose someone that means more to her than life.

That was a startling reality. One so startling that Harlow wondered if she could survive it, survive the irony of it all especially.

Following the cries were the easy part, deciding whether or not to open the door was the hard part.

But the rumbling sadness that lie beyond that door was almost impossible to ignore, the raw feeling that seeped out of every noise drenched Harlow's senses in the need to comfort.

Slowly she pushes the door until it opens with a solid creaking, the sobs from the inside pausing for a brief moment, before sniffling.

For such a large man, Louden surely has childlike tendencies.

Louden's back is turned towards Harlow, his front facing the window, but Harlow can imagine what he looks like.

His eyes will be rimmed red, his fists clenching, tear tracks staining his cheeks and a lone droplet will be hanging off his chin.