"You can't blame yourself for something like that happening, Harry. It's not healthy nor right," I shushed, holding his head to my chest as I hugged him. I wasn't good in these situations. I wasn't good comforting people, but with Harry it felt natural in some weird way.
Harry scoffed at my comment, a warm tear hitting my chest, "You don't get it, Samantha," He murmured, sniffling before lifting his head and looking at me with teary eyes.
"What don't I get?" I asked softly, watching him with sad eyes. I never thought in a million years I'd be in this position. Hell, I didn't even want to talk to him a week ago! But here I was, listening as he told me about his past. His dark, tear jerking past.
"I'm pathetic," He chuckled dryly, wiping away his tears leaving his cheeks red and raw, "I can't believe I'm crying and in front of you of all fucking people! Fucking sake Harry," He muttered, running a hand through his chocolate curls and giving them a slight tug.
I frowned watching him, "You're not pathetic, not the slightest bit," I assured, placing my hand on his arm, softly pulling on it until it was removed from his hair.
He looked up at me his, green eyes staring into mine in a dark manner causing a chill to run up my spine, "Yeah?" he breathed, his voice wavering, "Then why didn't I stand up for my own sister when she needed me, Samantha? Huh?" He spat, his voice rising as he did so.
I contained myself from shuffling back at the tone of his voice and instead took hold of his hand, catching him off guard.
"You were afraid of loosing her, Harry. You were sixteen you didn't know what to do," I comforted, running my thumb over the back of his hand, soothingly.
Harry shook his head, "No, I knew what to do. I knew I should have talk to him, beat the living shit out of him. I knew I was supposed to protect her as her brother and I failed to do so. I failed to protect my sister and because of that, she's gone now. She won't ever get to walk down the aisle or see the birth of her 1st child. She won't be able to send her kids off to school or go get her nails done with my mom again and that's all because I was too afraid of handling the situation. I gave up on her. Even though she told me she was okay, I knew she wasn't and that's when I should have stepped in. I'm the reason she's dead. The reason she's going to miss out on so much in life. I am," He sputtered, tears streaming down his face as though his eyes were a fountain. And in a way I guess they were.
I felt a tear of my own fall from my face and come into contact with my bare leg as I sat criss-cross on the bed.
"You can't honestly blame yourself, Harry," I cried softly, "I didn't know Gemma but I can tell you this, she wouldn't want you to blame yourself for any of this! It's not your fault Scott's an ass. You tried to help and for some reason Gemma didn't want it. She was probably trying to keep you safe or maybe she loved him to the extent that she was in denial about the whole situation. But either way, whether you could have done more or not, it still happened and you can't keep beating yourself up over it. She wouldn't want that, Harry," I whispered softly, moving to sit beside him as I rubbed his back.
"It should have been me and not her," He spoke so softly I couldn't hear him all too well.
"What?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows, thinking I'd heard him wrong.
"It should have been me. They're right, I should be the one that's dead right now, not her. She had so much to look forward to," He cried, lifting his head to look at me, tears clouding his green eyes to the point where they just began cascading down his face one after another as he blinked. His lips were swollen and red as they trembled.
I reached over, wiping the tears from his cheeks, ignoring my own as I cupped his face in my hands, bringing my lips to his. I placed a soft kiss on his trembling lips, pulling back only to press my forehead against his, looking into his eyes. Once he seemed to calm down a bit, I pressed on;
"Who told you that?" I asked softly, both shocked and sympathetic. Who in their right minds would say something like that?
"Harry," I pressed when he didn't answer, adverting his attention elsewhere.
"I told you that we were a happy family. When Gemma passed, things changed. My mom and Robyn both blame me for her death and because of that, they can't stand to look at me. That's why they're never home, they don't want to be. And whenever we do talk, it always ends the same way. She'd be drunk telling me that god made a mistake and took the wrong kid. For a week after Gemma's death, I could never fall asleep because of the crying I could hear coming from my mom's room. She would be sitting by her bed, begging god to correct his mistake," Harry admitted, his voice hoarse as more and more tears strolled down his face.
I couldn't help the small gasp that left my lips at his words. His own mother?!
Instinct took over and I soon found my arms wrapping around Harry's muscular frame, "I'm so sorry," I apologized in his neck, for not only his mother but for bringing it up. I should really learn to keep my big mouth shut...
No wonder he said detention was paradise compared to being home. He had nothing but a house to come back to. Not a home, a house. He didn't have a loving mom and dad to welcome him home and to ask him how his day was. Instead, he was put down constantly, told that the wrong child was taken and that he was meant to be dead. He was blamed for the death of his sister, now making him believe it himself.
He was so guarded, even after that. It was sad to think that he couldn't trust anyone. He had been alone through this all, no one was there for him when he needed it most. He was just 16 when this all happened, for crying out loud! It's been two years of him harboring all these emotions. And finally they were released, with me.
Harry hesitantly brought his arms around my body, hugging me back. My heart melted in the hug. just at the thought of this all. As we hugged, he told me how he ran into Scott one day. A year ago to be exact. He told me how all the anger and resentment he once had toward him, returned the minute he saw Scott's face. Harry told me how he jumped on his then and there beating the living shit out of Scott, right in the middle of the market. He had explained it took 5 guys to pull him off of Scott's battered body, him thrashing in their grasp the whole time. He told me how he remembered everyone's faces as he stood there with a bloody fist, Scott lying motionless on the floor.
They were all scared, shocked and nervous. Three things people somehow still remained to feel towards him.
He ended up putting Scott in the hospital, where he remained in a coma for three weeks. He mentioned how scared he had been that he had killed him, because even though Scott deserved to die for what he did to Gemma, he didn't want to be blamed for yet another death. He was just a 17 year old at that time.
He didn't deserve this. None of it.
"I made a vow that day," He spoke up, breaking the silence that had overcome us as we sat there in each others embrace.
I pulled apart looking at him to continue.
"I vowed to never fall in love but I'm just a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. After seeing what I did to Scott that day, I knew I wasn't safe to be around. I have a short temper and a strong build. Two things that don't go together," He informed, looking at me sadly.
I frowned at his words, "Is that why you never had any girlfriends?" I asked, completely ignoring the fact that he just straight up told me he'd never love me.
He nodded his head slowly, "I never found a girl worth the risk- the fight. One that made me weak in the knees, forgetting about my past for even a second. There was no one I wanted to work for. I gave up on love a long time ago, I thought that maybe I wasn't meant to have someone and I couldn't help but think of how much of a good thing that was. If I didn't have someone I cared about, then what was there to loose? There was no risk- no danger," He murmured, fiddling with my fingers that were entwined with his.
I bit the inside of my cheek, restraining from frowning my head off. Then what was I to him? His new toy? While I was tangled up in my own thoughts, I almost missed the 4 words he spoke that seemed to hold the key to the cage of butterflies in my stomach.
"Until I met you," he whispered, pulling my face towards him, connecting our lips.
