the only one // h.s

chapter 3

This can't be possible. Ghosts are not real. But what else could explain the events that just occurred?

I don't have time to collect my thoughts before he stands up and begins walking toward me. I turn and run into the house, flying through the hallway and slamming shut the door to my room. My breathing is rapid and my forehead is covered in a nervous sweat.

"You act like you've never seen a ghost before"

I turn to see him sitting on my bed smirking.

"Who are you."

I stutter.

"What are you?" I correct myself.

"Harry" he says confidently while completely ignoring my second question.

"Ok Harry. Why don't you help me finish unpacking since you don't seem to want to leave."

Maybe I can make use of this, at least get some of the work done.

"I can't. I can't pick anything up. Everything goes right through me."

"Oh...right. Well hey, you never have to clean! It must be great." I say in an attempt to lighten the conversation.

"Of course you think it's great, you don't have to live with it. Everyone wants what they don't have and once they get it, they realize that it's not as great as they thought."

My attempt at a light conversation failed and I sense a deeper meaning to the words. He is relating them to something other than cleaning, I just don't know what. I stay quiet as he continues talking.

"I'll never get to feel the warmth of blankets fresh out of the dryer, snow will never again fall into my hair, and worst of all, I will never get to feel my skin against the skin of someone I love."

"Harry..."

"I don't need an "I'm sorry" from you. That won't change anything and it never will. Don't give me your pity. You should be grateful for the small things you don't even notice you have, but I will never have again."

With that he disappears and leaves me alone in a sea of thoughts revolved around him and what could have happened.

***

I don't see Harry for the rest of the weekend. I can't stop replaying the words he said. And worst of all, I will never get to feel my skin against the skin of someone I love.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear the most beautiful singing coming from outside.

I see him through the kitchen window which overlooks a vast amount of trees. I quietly tiptoe outside, careful not to disturb the sweet melodies falling from his lips.

As I make my way over he seems to be studying me. Not critically, but more as if he is trying to predict what my next move will be.

He stops singing.

"You want to know my story, don't you?"

He's right. I haven't thought of anything else since our previous conversation. How did he die? What caused him to be stuck here? Why am I the only one who can see him?

I simply nod.

"Let's take a walk."

After a few minutes of walking through the trees in silence I look up at him. His eyes are slightly crinkled at the corners due to the sun's bright rays. I dare to ask the question that has been nagging at me since we met.

"How did you die?"

He pauses a moment before telling me in his sad, enchanting voice, the words that will forever be engraved in my mind.

"I committed suicide."

***

Happy late valentines day!! I hope yours was wonderful, I know mine was. :-)

Should I start writing some from Harry's p.o.v?

Votes/comments make me very happy so don't be shy hehe

-m