That's when they took him from me. A Harry Styles Fan Fiction.

Four - I Regret Nothing. But I Miss Everything.

All the boys walked me home that afternoon. I said goodbye to them at the door. I didn't want them to come in, I wanted to grieve. We had to go to the police station tomorrow for further questioning to find out who may've killed Harry. That was going to be tough. 

I immediately ran up to my room, not even locking the door. It didn't even matter. I slammed open my door as i fiddled with the door knob trying to open it. Once it was open tugged off my jeans, slipping it down my small body and threw the hoodie of off and over my head roughly. Slamming them on the floor. My legs buckled under me as I took Harry's old hoodie in both hands, bringing it up to my nose. Inhaling his strong scent of his favourite cologne. As the tears streamed down my face. I imagined that it was him. His strong arms and big hands comforting me. Just holding me like he used to. I screamed. Just to hear my voice. I screamed so loud, I screamed his name over and over. 

"HARRY, WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME."

I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my now sore arms around my legs, burying my face into my knees. I was thinking of Harry. How he died. How much pain he would've gone through. How much he would've struggled. How much he would've pleaded them to stop. To stop and just leave him. The fear that would've been raging through his veins. His cries. Much like the ones that i was feeling now. 

I clutched my pillow now, crying into it. Still imagining that it was Harry's broad shoulders that my head was neatly nestled it. My stomach ached now and my body was jerking up and down unable to control the sobs as they ripped out of my body and onto the pillow, soaking the silky white fabric. My eyes were blood red by now, my whole body ached. My throat was raw, but that didn't matter. It wasn't even half the pain that Harry must've gone through. I couldn't stop crying. The tears endlessly flowed out of my eye balls and onto the pillow. The pillow I was taking my anger out on. Punching it. Screaming into it. Getting it all out. 

You see, if Harry was still alive he would have been the one comforting me. He would've been the one wrapping his muscular arms around my small body, rocking me softly and dragging his big hands through my brown hair. If Harry was still here i wouldn't even be crying in the first place. We'd be having fun, or having a movie night like we did almost every sunday night. We would be cuddling and laughing. My life was so empty now. It's like someone had ripped out my heart and tried to put it back in but didn't sew it up properly. They just took Harry away and left me here, to fend for myself. I didn't know what to do. The tears still hadn't stopped and an angry sob left my mouth as the temperature in the room dropped. Sending shivers up and down my bare back. Raising the hairs on my arms and making the ones on the back of my neck stand up on end.

I didn't know whether to feel scared or comfortable. There was an eery silence as i choked out the words.

"Hello? Who's there" My throat ached as the words slipped out of my mouth. They were barely audible but i knew that i would be answered with silence.

My eyes scanned across the empty room, from my door to my vanity. No one was there. Who was I kidding. I was alone. 

"I hate you!" i screamed as loud as i could, this sent me into more sobs. I didn't really hate Harry. I hated the fact that he was gone. The fact that i wouldn't be able to see his face light up when he saw me. Seeing the ends of his lips curl up into a smile and show those adorable dimples that everyone loved. The way that he would look at me with his big green eyes. The fact that i would never be able to hear his deep voice with the very pronounced English accent ring through my ears. I hated that. Not him.

I picked up Harry's old hoodie, the one I was wearing earlier today and placed it over my head again. I picked up the covers and pulled them up over my head. I searched for my phone blindly in the dark. Finding it entangled between my sheet and my duvet. I picked it up and dialled Harry's number. It rang out. I listened to his voice ring through the phone. The only thing that was left. The only thing that i could listen to of Harry. His deep English accent rang through my ears, it was calming. I rang it at least three more times. Maybe if I fell asleep this would all just be a dream. Maybe Harry wasn't dead. Maybe the boy in the black bag was just someone who looked like Harry. Maybe he'd be here in the morning to wake me up because i'd slept through my alarm. Maybe.

"Goodnight Harry." I whispered into the lonely night.

I was scared though. I wasn't ready to go to sleep. I didn't want to. My eyes started to get heavier as i was pulled into the world of unconscious. Listening to Harry's voice mail and inhaling the scent of his hoodie, the one that I was wearing. My mind being reminded by nightmares and images flashing in my dreams. They weren't dreams. They were nightmares. Nightmares of my dead best friend.

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THANK YOU FOR READING. 

-Tayla. x