Before The End (One Direction)

7. The First Phase Of My Hell~ Personal Destruction

This was one of my favorite chapters to write! I don't know why, it just was. The song is Drunk by Ed Sheeran . Enjoy!

Harry's POV~

I wished I could have told people that I turned my life around after Emma's death. It's what I should have done. I would have saved myself alot of pain, suffering and heartbreak. It would have been a perfect time. Everybody would have understood and everybody would have supported me. Unfortunately it seems its never been my style to do the right thing.

Louis even told me that he'd make sure I could get help if that was what I needed. He told me he'd make sure nobody found out about it. I should have accepted his help but instead I hung up on him and blocked his cell number. I unblocked it after a few days but he didn't call again. He got the message.

I spent the next two weeks after her death locked away in my apartment. I didn't go to any interviews or meetings. Cory had made a massive public appearance, telling everyone that the baby was mine and so my mum was calling me on a daily basis trying to get answers. I just couldn't bring myself to answer the phone. I couldn't sleep or eat or even function. There was no way I could possibly find it in myself to explain this mess to my mother. I couldn't even make sense of it to myself. Above all else, I just wanted to be high and forget I was alive. I spent long hours crying in a ball over the box of her ashes. It took me that entire two weeks to work up the courage to stumble into the haunting darkness of he empty room.

It was just how I had left it, awaiting her arrival. Her crib was wooden, carefully put together with small soft white sheets lining it. It sat against the wall barren, ready for the sleeping form that would never come. I'd spent hours bent over the instructions, making sure every little bolt and screw was secured properly. Next to it was a small dresser about as tall as my thighs, with tiny little heart shaped wooden knobs. The drawers were open slightly to reveal a small collection of clothes that she would never wear. It felt like years had passed since if found myself excitedly searching through the store for the perfect outfit. I remembered walking into the store for one outfit, and leaving with so many that I'd had to take multiple little shopping bags to fit it all. Everything was going to be perfect for her.

There was a large assortment of stuffed animals against the wall beside it in a rainbow of fluff. I set the teddy bear that I'd taken from Corys right in the middle of it and smiled for a second at the soft little army of color. And then I hit them as hard a I could and watched as the colors went flying a crossed the room in an uncoordinated stream. I grabbed the handle of the dresser and ripped the drawer off its hinges listening to the crunch of metal as it was broke away from its tracks. Her clothes spilled onto the floor unceremoniously. The drawer, now empty, hit the wall with a crack, leaving a white chip in the beige paint. I demolished the crib next, smashing it to pieces with my bare hands. I ignored the splinters in my fingers and instead focused on breaking apart all the bolts that I secured with my own careful touch until there was nothing left. I ripped the sheets from the mattress and let them fly across the room like a ghost of what should have been. I destroyed her room until it looked like my heart. It was broken, empty, and impossible to fix. My phone rang again with my mother's name flashing across the screen. I stared at it hollowly for a few long seconds before throwing my phone with all the force I could muster into the opposite wall. It hit with a thud, shattering the screen and cutting off the call mid ring.

I screamed. I wailed until my throat ached and burned. At some point, my screaming turned into sobs. My chest hurt. It wasn't physical pain and that made it all worse. Physical pain was something I could understand. Atleast physical pain was fixable in some way. This deep pounding ache in my chest was invisible and unstoppable. I couldn't hope to measure or understand something like this. It was the type of pain that made me feel hollow and empty inside.