Misconceptions 》Styles

30.00

     I didn't want to get up. Every inch of my body was in excruciating pain. Any and all light to cross my path would itch and burn and make me wish that I were dead. More dead than usual. So for the past three days I had been lying in the dark, buried underneath blankets and ignoring the persistent knocks at my door.

     They wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't blame them. I knew why they were so worried and why they thought that leaving me alone was a death sentence. That's because it was.

      If today wasn't the day that it was, I wouldn't have forced myself out of bed. I wouldn't have dragged my aching body into the shower and I wouldn't have cried and banged my head against the wall as the water cascaded along my body. But today was the day that I had been dreading for months because I knew that one day, it would be here. That one day, I wouldn't be able to stop it or get around it. So here I am, doing all of the things to prepare for something that cannot be prepared for when all I want to do is to be six feet underground.

     With her.

     Instead of her.

     Because of her.

      It all amounts to the same thing, really. At the end of the day, today is still the day where Skylar is finally getting what she has always wanted. Always wanted because of me and the way that I treated her.

     "Harry, you have to open the door," My sister calls from outside in the corridor, her voice traveling throughout my flat as soon as I switch the shower shut. "Harry, please," Because she has been doing this for days and I am bound to run into her later anyways, it is with a towel wrapped around my waist that I trudge my feet against the floorboards and pull the door open. "This is the first time I've seen you days. You haven't answered your phone or-

     "I know, Gemma," I growl, angry with her for being here, for acting like I don't have a right to be upset or to isolate myself from her. She didn't understand why I was angry with myself. She knew exactly what I did and because we are siblings or because she has some twisted sense of reality, she just didn't get it. Skylar is gone and it's my fault and there's no getting around that.

      Acting as if I am innocent when I most certainly am not won't change the fact that I was the last person she talked to. That I heard her take her last shaky breath before the phone cluttered to the ground or that I now have twenty stitches in my chin because in my rush to get to her, I ran off of the road. That the only reason I didn't find her crumpled body in the phone booth like my sister did was because I was being rushed off to the hospital. But whether I crashed or not, I wouldn't have made it on time. She let go, she gave up, and now she's gone.

     "Don't be angry, it's not your fault," She whispers, frowning as she shuts the door behind me. I shake my head, letting it fall into my hands as I breathe out heavily.

     "Thank you for finding her like I asked and for calling the police. Thank you for checking up on me every day since then and for caring as you do. But it is my fault, Gem, and you know that. So do us both a favor and stop lying. Just leave."

     "You are well off of your rocker if you think that I will allow you to mope inside of this flat for one more day-"

     "The funeral is today, so lucky for you, looks like I'm getting out of the flat." I flash her a bitter smile and retreat to my room, pulling open my closet so harshly that the hangers clash against the wood.

     "I know you loved her, Harry. But she wouldn't want you to blame yourself like this," My sister tries to reason with me, talking in hushed tones and moving slowly around the room.