Hidden [h.s]

SEVENTY-TWO

5 months later

Elizabeth and I sit on the rusting old park bench we always used to pass time on in Central Park. The sun is shining, and some kids play tag on the grass before us. A man throws a tennis ball to his dog, and a few girls just lay on blankets and sunbathe. May has always been my favorite month in New York, but not this year.

No month has been easy for me this year.

After the night of the party, I packed my bags and came back home to New York. Part of me was honoring my promise to Harry, but the other part just wanted to get the hell out of there. I have no idea what even happened to him after I saw the bullet fly from Alec's gun, or the rest of the alliance, at that. I passed out in Zayn's car after seeing Harry crumble to the ground, blood leaking from his body onto his clothes and woke up in my own bed, still in my dress. I've never cried so hard for so long in my life, and I hope I never have to again.

I cut myself off from all my ties in Portland except for Crystal, who has agreed to let me edit manuscripts from home here in NYC. He knows what happened that night, and I think he's been cutting me some slack, and I'm grateful for his compassion. I mail him my edited manuscripts, and he mails me new ones each week. It's a good arrangement for my current state of mind.

I do not know if Harry is alive or dead.

From what I saw with my own eyes, I assume he's dead, and I think about it every day.

Since December, I have mulled over and analyzed the incident, remembering every word uttered by every person present. If I could only have been the one to go with Alec and let Harry go; if only I had taken that bullet. I would gladly do it, in a second, and no doubt I would have, if Zayn's grip on me had only been a little looser, or if I had been a little more persuasive in making Harry go instead of me.

It's like my life has been sucked clean by that bullet. I feel like my eyes are always red from thinking about it and tearing up, and I feel like there's a giant gap in my chest where Harry used to be in my soul. My old fear of being alone has come back to haunt me, but this time it's a thousand times worse.

Sometimes the image of Harry lying cold on the ground of that alley, covered in blood surfaces to my mind and it makes me literally sick to my stomach. I have trouble sleeping at night due to nightmares that make the ones I dreamt before the party look like a joke.

Without Harry, I do not live-I simply exist.

"Nice day."

I turn my head slowly to look at Elizabeth.

I only nod, turning my gaze back to the grass.

"Want to go see a movie later?" I blink.

"What movie?"

"Anything you want."

I shrug.

"You want to go get lunch?"

I shrug again.

"What do you want to do?"

Elizabeth's trying, she really is. I love her so much for that, but I just can't force myself to act interested and upbeat when all I am is sad.

Sad. That's one word for it.

"I just want to sit here for a while," I answer at last and Elizabeth nods quickly, turning her attention back to the park.

I remember clearly the night I flew in. It was the day after the party, and I spent the entire flight convincing myself it couldn't be true. But when I tried calling Harry's cell phone and I got no answer, I knew it was.