i love you, nora jane [h.s.]

11.

trigger warning.

"If I could show you how sorry I am, I would. I would kiss the bruises away, erase the memories, take your pain. But I can't, and I'm sorry."
-Harry's journal.

.....

Nora Jane drew in a deep breath, and I watched as her chest rose and fell; how her head slightly swayed back and forth.

"Tell me what you did to her." The request tumbled from her quivering lips as a mumble, because she did not want to know. She wanted the mystery to remain, she wanted me to stay a good man in her mind. But I was anything but.

"Can you promise me first? Promise me you'll allow yourself to hate me after."

Nora Jane pursed her lips. She glanced up at me, furrowing her brows with hesitance. "Promise."

I was only fourteen when it began. Something inside me changed with it, like a wire being snipped on a ticking bomb. Nicotine became an old friend, the only taste that wouldn't make me sick to my stomach. A few boys from class that my mother warned me of invited me in when I stopped talking; stopped caring about whether or not I'd wake up in the morning.

The leader of the wolves was Jeremiah. He was suave and sported a tattered jacket his father used to wear before the accident. We would sit around smoking and cursing in Jeremiah's basement. No one was home, for his mother worked corners each night and Jeremiah hated being alone, though he'd never tell anyone.

I had my first sip of liquor in Jeremiah's basement. I was numbed and dazed and couldn't stop myself from having more. The evil thoughts, the phantom feelings, and the dreaded memories were wiped clean from my mind. I was a blank canvas with a beer in my hand and I was addicted.

I was sixteen the first time I met Lucille in that basement. She recently moved in next door to Jeremiah, and she was the sweetest thing I ever set my eyes on. Her chocolate skin made me want to taste it. Her ruffled skirts beckoned me to run my hand up them. Her voice was soft and innocent; I wanted her to say my name. All these feelings that Lucille sparked were new and confusing to me. They were wrong. So wrong and I couldn't stop them. I would try, though.

I'd think about the pain and about her; the one I'd never let myself think of. Surely if she knew about Lucille she'd make me forget. But she didn't have to know, I told myself. Lucille became my sweet little secret.

Lucille liked playing with my growing locks and tangling her fingers in them. She would stick her tongue out in a playful disgust when I'd offer a cigarette or a sip from my bottle. One night, I was off my face and puked in Jeremiah's mother's bathroom. It was the first time Lucille and I were alone together. She held my hair back as I heaved and I let myself cry in front of her.

"Harry, what's wrong? Tell me," Lucille begged. She wrapped her arms around my trembling shoulders. Vomit dripped off my chin, but she didn't care. Lucille kissed my face all over.

I told her all of the wrongness I had been blessed with. I had never told anyone the lies and secrets before. I told her why I smoked, drank until I spewed, kept my head down in public. She cried with me, promised to stay beside me until I no longer wanted her to. She gave herself to me in the bathroom. It was different from all of the other times; it was gentle and passionate.

For the next few months I held Lucille's hand in public. She joined me, arm in arm, to Jeremiah's house. All of my friends grew comfortable around her. I took her out on dates that she wanted, I played the part of a loving boyfriend. I was addicted to Lucille, and she was addicted to me. Like all drugs, the high eventually wore off.

She found out. I was punished for having Lucille. Everything I tried to forget came rushing back; the thoughts, feelings, pain. The old Harry replaced the new, and I fell back into old patterns. Lucille was too aware, and I hated her for it.

"We can do something about it. We'll tell someone. We'll get you the help you need. I was looking into rehabs—" Lucile carried on.

"I don't need your help. Stop trying to fix me because I'm not broken. I'm not some project Miss Perfect must work on to make herself feel worth something. I don't need you."

"But I love you."

"That's a shame."

Our first fight was only meant to be verbal. I didn't mean any of it, but I found myself putting my hands on her. She thrashed in my grip as I threw her down. The fear in her eyes merely fueled my intoxicated rage. I wanted her to hurt, I wanted her to feel my pain.

She stayed with me. When she promised to never leave my side, she truly meant it. And I resented her for it. I wanted her to leave, to find someone she deserved. I put her through hell, just to see how far I could take it. I'd blow smoke in her face when she'd beg me to get help. When she said she loved me I'd squeeze her wrists until I left marks.

"Harry, that's enough. I don't want to hear anymore," Nora Jane said. She had backed herself away from me, into a corner.

With tears in my eyes, I said, "No, I'm not finished."

I lost track of how long Lucille was with me. It could've been months or years. Time blended together for me and I didn't know where I was for half of it. All I can remember from our final days together was the turmoil. Lucille started hitting back. She stole drags from the boys' cigarettes and shared their bottles. In that basement, they'd turn on music for Lucille to dance to. As she swayed her hips in front of their faces, her eyes would remain locked on mine. She sat on Jeremiah's lap and tossed his hair around. She giggled and whispered into all of their ears. As I witnessed it, I told myself, congratulations, you've ruined the innocent.

I grabbed her arm and took her upstairs. "Do you like embarrassing me in front of my friends? If you want to throw yourself at them, go ahead. You're just my sloppy seconds anyway."

"You're so blind, Harry. I want your reaction. I want you to care enough to stop me. I want the old you back. The old Harry loved me, I know he did. But you... you don't love anything or anyone."

So I went back downstairs, leaving Lucille to cry to herself. Jeremiah asked if everything was okay between us.

"Then, I made the worst decision. The decision that still haunts me today," I told Nora Jane. I couldn't see her face nor did I want to. I stared down at my feet and tried not to cry.

I told Jeremiah that Lucille wasn't the girl for me. However, she was the girl for all of them. I raved about how Lucille had wanted to sleep with all of them for months, but I was too selfish to let her. The drunken bastards ate it up. As I put on my jacket and slipped out the door, they called for Lucille to come back downstairs. I lit up a cigarette when they had their way with her. I could hear her calling for me as I sat outside smoking. I realized what I had done halfway through, and I cried. I cried with her, for her, and walked away.

"Shortly after, I went away. I gathered my things and moved to a nearby town. I went to university, where I met Felix. And I worked on getting myself better. Only, I'm not better. I'm a very bad person," I said. Nora Jane did not utter a word. I could barely hear her breathe.

"You can hate me. You can tell me to leave and never come back," I continued, wiping my dampened eyes. "Please, NJ. Tell me to leave."

Nora Jane gathered her composure and walked out. I could hear her greeting Lucille again and offering her something to eat.

Lucille thanked her and asked, "Did he really come clean?" The hopefulness in her voice brought me to my knees.

.....

it has been a year since i wrote anything. in that year i got a job, went to college, seriously considered leaving college, suffered heartbreak multiple times, and lost my passion for writing. i am trying to get that passion back. i hope this year brings you great things. x