GONE | h.s

01

01

Harry

I silently walked into our- well my apartment, wiping the  dried tears off my face.

The apartment felt empty.

Useless.

Now that Grace was gone, there didn't seem to be a purpose in living here.

Grace Willis. Grace Willis was my girlfriend. My dead girlfriend whom committed suicide at the age of 19.

A silent cry escaped my lips, at the sudden thought of her name.

I missed the way she sat at our sofa, with her legs folded, sobbing at those silly tragic love stories that she loved to read. Or when she laughed, that amazing laugh of hers, how she would crinkle her nose. Which was the most amusing sight ever seen.

Oh and her love. How she always seemed to love and accept people for who they were unconditionally. Including me. I was different. I wasn't the ideal perfect boyfriend one would pick.

I suddenly grew angry. Angry at the fact that she was unhappy, and I didn't notice. Angry because in some way, I could have helped. Angry, because I could have been that small possibility on why she wouldn't be dead right now.

Red was all I saw as I smashed my fists into the wooden door. A loud groan escaped my dried lips as I fell to the ground.

I suddenly broke down crying, curling myself into a tight secure ball. I cried for all the times we fought. I cried for all the times I embarrassed her. I also cried for the all those times I took highly advantage of her.

It hurt. Hell, it hurt more than anything I could imagine.

It got to the point where it wasn't just mentally; but now physically. My heart ached for the brown headed girl who I was madly in love with.

It was a losing battle. And I didn't know if I should surrender or not.