Diana [h.s.]

0.7

glass was everywhere. bloody finger prints on the walls. he hated himself. how could he be such a screw up? he tried and tried, but it's like he can't fix his mistake. before another thought came to his mind, he threw another glass at the wall.

harry cried and cried and cried until he couldn't cry anymore. images of their fight stabbed away at his chest. diana's words pierced through his heart.

"you're nothing but trash to me"

"you're worthless styles."

and what did he do? he watched her leave.