Stars Leave Black Holes Behind [HS]

27

Valerie followed her footsteps on the concrete.

Her mind was a knot of tangled thoughts and feelings so fucking loud it was excruciating, and her head was pounding as she made her way through the streets aimlessly, paying no attention to where she was as she walked.

A cigarette was lit between her lips, glowing orange against the darkness as she struggled to remember where she was and what she was doing.

But how could she even think about any of that, when her entire life had just exploded right before her eyes? How could she undo her mind and unstitch her feelings and hollow her insides out after all that had just happened?

After all those words and all those reasons and all those missing pieces had just been put back together in the palm of her hand, so perfectly it was painful that Valerie couldn't just accept them.

And it was because there was a problem. A big fucking problem the size of the moon that hit Valerie like a fist.

It was that she could remember dying on the kitchen floor from the sound of Harry's voice. It was that she hadn't eaten a strawberry in over a year. It was that she was killing herself with cigarettes to try and break through the numbness that had overtaken her entire being the moment he slammed that door.

The fucking problem was that Harry had actually ruined her. That Harry had caused so much damage that letting him back in - after everything he had done to her - would surely be insane.

Yes, he had given his reasons. He had made his peace.

But Valerie hadn't.

Valerie - despite the fact his name was written on the padlock over her heart, and despite the fact the wind in her hair was Harry's breath and the stars in the sky were Harry's eyes - couldn't help but be entirely fucking terrified.

Because she had given herself to him before, and he had broken her. She had lain down before him, and given him everything, given him all the pieces - flawed and perfect - and he had walked away and he hadn't looked back.

It fucking terrified Val that it might just happen again. Not the illness (but, of course, that terrified her too), but the blurry patch he had gone through with the alcohol and the girls and the darkness.

If he had done it before, might he do it again?

She didn't know.

Valerie just didn't fucking know.

But she wanted him. She craved him, so much that she ached.

But she didn't know whether that was enough. Because Harry loved her and she loved him, but what about everything else?

Was she supposed to forget about the scars that zigzagged across her ribcage and the dark blue bruises that were pressed over her heart? Was she supposed to forget that she had ended up with a hole inside of her chest? Was she supposed to forget she had fucking died on the kitchen floor?

Was she?

Because Valerie really didn't think that she could.

As much as she would try, forgetting how many times she had painted his figure onto a canvas and then ripped it up, how many times she had sat on the fire escape and cried because the pain in her chest was too great, how many times she had laid in bed with the thoughts of them being together replaying over and over- seemed fucking impossible.