The light streaming through the open bedroom curtains stung my eyes as I gradually gained consciousness. My brain was a foggy, thick blur that thumped painfully inside my skull, my thoughts jumbled by the remnants of the alcohol in my blood after my binge last night. I'd drained the fridge of a half empty 6 pack of beers and a bottle of wine I'd once intended to share with her, sometime when we had something to celebrate. That was never going to happen now. Never.
I rubbed my eyes until they felt raw. My mouth was like sandpaper, dry and course and I could hardly swallow. I felt like a dead man trying to crawl out of his grave, in this cold, lonely bed that felt like bricks beneath my body rather than a cushy mattress. Despite my discomfort, however, my drinking spree last night had not been in vain because today everything emotional felt numb. A vast improvement on the stabbing pain in my chest I'd had when I stumbled inside after my fatal near miss in the road on Christmas. That had been...what, a few days ago, at least? I hadn't been keeping track of time. I'd done nothing but drink myself into oblivion while I was here. I'd cry for hours, sobbing into the empty space while I poisoned myself with anything I could find. I ignored the calls from mum, only picking up the phone in order to gabble nonsensical messages into Tamara's answering machine. In my frustration, I'd hurled it against the wall one day and watched it smash into pieces before I wept again. When had that been? Yesterday? Two days ago? It was all a haze. Time didn't register inside my head, not when I felt as empty as this damned house. I was hollow without her.
As the memories seeped back into my head little by little, I realised what it was that had woken me. I twisted uncomfortably, wincing in the light as my hand searched for an alarm clock on the bedside table, knocking frames and books over as I grasped wildly. I held it up right in front of my eyes squinting at the display - 10:03am. I furrowed my brow and collapsed back again, huffing and moaning at the aches in my muscles. I tried to listen, to cock my ears and concentrate, but my head was pounding and it was so difficult to focus. But I could make out rattling, shifting, moving. Noises downstairs like someone stepping about and shuffling objects. I forced myself to sit up, pulling on some dirty sweats and a zip up jumper, my body shivering against the cold air. I hadn't even thought to turn on the heating. I'd barely even eaten all the time I'd been here; I was blocking it all out, but now I was hungover my stomach rumbled forcefully and I almost felt faint with hunger.
I took wary steps down to the hall, my bloodshot eyes peering uneasily around for the culprit of the sounds. I tried to remember if I'd bothered even locking the door. Maybe someone was burgling the place, and in my current state I couldn't even bring myself to care. I strained my eyes painfully to see, my vision failing me and blurring with lack of use. But I could see the boy standing in the hall was no threat. I watched him as he kicked the door closed behind him, a small stack of empty cardboard boxes in front of him on the floor. He pushed a hand through his blonde hair, sighing as he surveyed the scene in front of him, thinking for a moment, probably deciding where to start. My foot creaked on the stair and his blue eyes darted to the source of the sound, narrowing when they found me. I cleared my throat awkwardly, my voice out of use and sounding husky, unhealthy.
"What are you doing?"
Niall glared at me in silence. I could see the distaste in his eyes. The hatred. "I'm here to collect Tamara's stuff."
He picked up a box, getting a good grip on the cardboard before approaching the stairs at a steady pace. I stood halfway up them, confused, dazed, sad most of all. My heart couldn't cope with this, didn't know how to react. I couldn't muster up any response other than a miserable, pitiful plea. "No...no you can't, you can't take her stuff. She lives here."
"Not anymore," he rebutted heartlessly. His expression was like stone as he came to my level, just a step down in front of me. I put my arm out, standing across the stair in an effort to hinder him. "Get out of the way, Harry."
