Unity | Harry Styles AU

XLIII: the aftermath

wicked game - james vincent mcmorrow

Please don't let me hold you down, you are so very capable of greatness. Strive, Alaska. Forget about me, as I am doing with you.
It will do us both good.
Have faith in what I say.
-H

I'm sorry for the financial burden that I have left you with. In my office, at my desk, the second drawer on the far left contains enough money that will supply you until you can find a sustainable source of payment.
-H

Don't dwell too much.
Remember why I loved you in the first place.
If you cannot recall why exactly,
flip to page 15.
-H

This is incredibly hard for me to do.
You will live, darling. You are strong enough
You can let this go. Let me go.
You'll find someone better.
Until then, you have my journal.
I couldn't dare bring it with me,
So I left it with you.
-H

--

Lies. Every single note that was left in this damned shoebox was a lie. He was a liar.

I was not strong, I was not capable, I will not find someone better, and I could most definitely not let him go. That was impossible. How could I do that?

The stares I received when I went in to write my exams were unreal. I was like some sort of subhuman to my peers.

It was like everyone had lost their manners. People looked me up and down and scowled when my name was brought up. Some made jokes, some made threats, some made requests that I should not be put in their class, and some ignored me all together.

"Alaska? Alaska Dwyer?"

"Yeah, the girl who slept with the art teacher fifteen years older than her."

"What a whore."

Nobody understood how broken I was. And I couldn't make anyone understand the broken I felt because I had no one. I tried to hold my head high, but my mind was so heavy with the burden that was left behind.

This was a mess that Harry and I made together. Now I was stuck here to clean up the aftermath.

For a few weeks after Harry's departure, I thought it would do me some good to sleep in his house alone. I wanted to hold on to every single good memory I possibly could before they were replaced with the horrid feeling I had when I opened that damned letter.

The bad memories inevitably infiltrated through the good ones, and before I knew it I was waking up at two o clock in the morning in a panic, frantically searching for Harry so he could embrace me in his arms, and then unfortunately breaking down when realizing he was thousands of miles away.

Now, a month and a half later, instead of tossing and turning in Harry's bed, I tossed and turned in my own.

--

  I heard a loud, obnoxious pounding coming from  ten feet away. I rubbed my eyes in frustration. Who on earth would possibly want to talk to me?

I quickly tied my hair up into an awfully messy bun before answering the door so I could seem less 'sub-human.'

I didn't bother looking through the peephole, I just messily swung the door open.