Harry's pov
I shake uncontrollably as I watch the police officers and peremeticts put my sister Gemma on a stretcher. My moms is crying in my dad's arms, As one of the police officers give me a sympathetic look that's when I loose it.
I know then, that I would be give that look so many times for the rest of my life whenever I'm asked about siblings, I know at her funeral, I know that I'm an only child now.
Why Gemma? Why not me? She was about to get her life started! Help so many people, do so many things.
They move her lifeless body around so it can fit in the body bag properly.
As I see how much more pale she is, how her body can't do anything. I couldn't keep my distance anymore.
"No! Gemma!" I run to her.
"Gem!" I try to hug her and not let her go but before I could I'm stopped.
"Harry it's over," My dad holds me back.
"No." I shake my head. And try to pull my arms out of his grip.
I have angry tears. My emotions are all over the place.
"Gemma." I collapse.
Nothing feels right, I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I feel stuck in my own skin. The house feels dead and hopeless.
"Shh, It's okay baby," My mom tries to calm me.
"That's my sister!" I cry, I hear the sound of a zipper, I look up to see that Gemma's body is no longer revealed, the bag fully closed.
"She can't be dead mum," I cry. "Please no." I beg someone to stop this, someone to change it. I put my face in my hands.
The lights to the police cruisers stream through the dark house. The door shuts and the bang of it slamming makes me stiff.
In the silence of the house, I feel broken.
