Sincerely, yours. - A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I finally am allowed to come home, which is absolutely relieving. My head has been hurting so badly lately, sometimes I lay awake for days because of the pain. But it’s a good kind of pain, not the one I am feeling deep inside, the one that never seems to heal no matter how many bandages I use. 

I am so desperate to start walking again. Weeks in a cot was nothing close to fun. It hurts tremendously to walk, or to do anything really. But I feel like I can take this kind of pain. And it makes me seem stronger than I feel inside. 

My mum drives all the way from Cheshire to take me home. I’m absolutely relieved to see her worried face, fretting over the smallest of things. 

I’m supposed to practice singing exercises because of the up-coming tour, but my nurses tell me they think it’s stupid and I should just rest. But management wants my voice ready for the nearing shows. And right now, that’s the last thing I want to think about. 

I can’t bare to look at the fans who crowd around the base of my apartment, because they all know. And the media makes it quite deliberately, look like a suicide attempt. To be honest, I’ve thought about suicide before, because the pain was unbearable, and still is. But the management made it extremely clear that I was not allowed to attempt such foolish behavior. They didn’t understand, clearly. Or maybe they did, but the fact was, they just didn’t care. 

I stare at the television, my mind somewhere else. My mum serves me soup and Yorkshire tea. Louis gave me a box for my birthday, even though it was his favourite. Louis is planning on dropping by for a visit later today. I kind of liked all of the attention everyone was giving me, it allowed me to take my mind off of her for a while. 

My mum comes and sits slowly on the edge of the bed, as I shiver, though I am wrapped in multiple quilts. 

“Harry babe,” she begins, smiling at me as I sit up to drink my tea. The taste reminds me of Louis. “I think we should have a talk.” And I immediately know exactly where this is headed. I was not about to talk about my deceased girlfriend with my mother. 

“Mum, I know where this is going and I don’t want…” she stops me in mid-sentence. 

“I know hun, but the counseling isn’t working, as you probably know.” she cringes. 

“Yes, mum. I hit the woman. But she was pretending she understood, when she clearly didn’t.” I say very matter-of-factly. 

“Well did it ever occur to you that she was trying her best? Maybe she was trying to understand, she just needed your cooperation.” 

I don’t say anything. No one understands. Actually, to be honest, I barely understand the whole thing myself. It’s been a month and I still, can barely take a step inside my own house without a reminder of her. I sometimes sit and stare at the wooden window seat in the living area for hours, where she was so often propped on her elbow and reading. I can almost see her smiling there, humming as she read, as I attempted to play piano.

“Harry. I understand it’s hard for you. But Elizabeth is gone. We need to move on.” she tells me and all of a sudden I find myself shuddering and crying once more. It comes so suddenly that I hardly understand what I’m doing. Her name brings back too many tough memories.

She tries to calm me, rubbing my shoulders and making little humming noises like you would if you were to quiet a small child. I wanted her to leave. It was always very difficult to let people watch me cry. I never liked it, it made me nervous and uncomfortable. 

And then I’m so caught up in my own world that I forget my mum’s here. And I think it registers, that I have forgotten, because she gets up to leave. I am so glad.