”I’m sorry.”
I’ve heard the phrase countless number of times on the day of Niall’s funeral. I was sick of hearing it. The phrase compensated the fact that nobody knew anything else to say. They didn’t know how I felt.
I was numb throughout the funeral. As the preacher spoke of Niall, the bubbly blonde he had always known, I didn’t cry. Even when I stood in front of everyone and spoke of the greatest memories we had; my first impression of him as well as my last, I didn’t tear up.
Denise held onto my hand, sniffling the entire time and wiping at her face with a napkin. She always looked at me in concern and anticipation, as if she expected me to burst into sobs at any moment.
I was still in shock.
Just last week, Niall was fine and perfectly healthy. We were in love, and our future held so many possibilities.
But now?
Now he was dead. His time was over.
I wanted to refuse the universe and its ordeal. I wanted to break the rules and say it wasn’t over. He came into my life and became such an important person that it was unfair for him to just leave so abruptly--who the hell even decides that?
The funeral passed by in a blur of black and white. People crying. His mother weeping hysterically. My mom hugging me, whispering to me that it’ll be all right. Everyone’s eyes on me, wondering why I wasn’t the one crying constantly. Why I haven’t shedded a tear.
A few days ago, my mom and Denise helped me move my things out of our apartment. There was no way in hell I’d be able to live there anymore--not without him. I would be living with Denise, just a few minutes away, but of course, with no Niall.
For the next few days, I felt like time froze. I spoke to people, I worked, I went to class, but it just seemed like time shifted all around me and I stayed frozen in this own little world.
It was difficult for me to sleep at night. I kept thinking of Niall, and I kept wondering how he died and who killed him. The police searched my apartment for evidence to lead to the killer but found none. Whoever killed Niall did a great job at hiding their tracks, they said. And they also said that Niall didn’t commit suicide.
I could’ve told them that.
I wondered if he was in pain when he died. Did the killer torture him or make it quick? And why did they kill Niall? How could anyone kill Niall? He was like a ray of sunshine everywhere he went. No matter who someone was, he was always nice to them, unless they crossed someone he cared about.
I moved the photo frame of Niall and I into the room I stayed in, keeping it right beside my bed. I stared at it often, mostly late at night with the lamp on, remembering how Niall had to persuade me to take the photo together at the time, since I didn’t want to because of my hair. I remembered how he held me close and kissed me after the photo. We were so young and free, but we were in love.
I’d never be able to meet a person like him again.
Niall shifted my entire universe. He drew me in, took care of me, and loved me. That’s all a girl could ever want in this world, or at least, that’s all I wanted. But now that he was gone, what was I to do? I couldn’t picture a world without him.
I never thought I had fallen this hard for Niall until I lost him. I felt like I was losing my mind as days passes and I remained in my room as much as I possibly could, clenching my eyes shut, gritting my teeth, and wondering how the hell this could happen. Wishing I could go back and just be with him one last time, to say goodbye.
My mom visited often, always bringing sweets and trying to cheer me up. Denise gave me some space, although she visited my room often to make sure I was doing okay.
I appreciated their concern, but I wanted to be alone most of the time. They always said the same thing, “Things will get better.” or “He’s in a better place now.”
Those were not things I wanted to hear right now.
But sadly, I didn’t know what I wanted to hear right now…
Nothing would satisfy me.
One night, I had such a vivid nightmare of Niall that it woke me up in a frenzy. In my dream, Niall was being skinned alive before having acid pour through his throat and dissolve his insides. I woke up with a jolt, screaming heavily, sweat drenching me everywhere.
Someone spoke to me, trying to get me back to reality. I was having a mental breakdown. The loss and mystery had been too overwhelming for me, and it finally hit me.
I didn’t even know how he died.
“Jess, it’s alright. It was only a nightmare.” A low voice whispered, warm fingers softly wiping away my tears. It was a man.
“No,” I murmured hoarsely, my eyes still closed and seeing the terror in Niall’s eyes.
The person rubbed on my back and rocked me gently. After a few minutes of weeping uncontrollably and holding onto whatever fragment I had of Niall, I opened my eyes and saw that it was Harry holding me.
Harry stayed the night here often, since he was my sister’s boyfriend and all. My mom loved him and treated him like a celebrity. And Denise was always happy to have him over. Harry has stayed away from me during my mourning for Niall, although I did recall seeing him at the funeral. But other than that, he kept his distance.
But tonight, he held me close and instead of saying anything, he simply rubbed my back and rocked me back and forth like a baby, trying to console me the best he could. It was nice, but once again, I just wanted to be alone.
“Thank you, I think I’ll go back to sleep now.” I whispered, closing my eyes again.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” With that said, he released me and quietly exited the room, closing the door softly behind him and encasing me in darkness.
I had another nightmare that night and woke up with a scream, but this time, Harry wasn’t there when I woke up.
____
A month after what happened, I was finally trying to get my life back together.
I had enough with crying and felt like Niall would want me to continue living, to remember him and miss him, but not let the loss take over my life. So, sucking back the tears and forcing a smile, I started going out more. I hung out with Macy (although I stayed away from clubs), spending time with Denise and mom, I felt like I was coming back to the normal world. Though it still hurt, I felt much better. Well, as better as I could possibly feel.
I still had vivid nightmares every now and then, and I cried often at night because that’s when the memories felt the strongest. When I lay there and closed my eyes, I pictured anything I wanted, and I couldn’t help but picture Niall and remember all the things we did. It was painful, but I knew I should smile at the memory. I knew I’d eventually be able to, just not right now.
After two months, I felt like things were back to normal. I didn’t constantly think of Niall, and I focused on everything that was happening in front of me. My mom started dating a guy and I met him; he seemed very nice, and she really liked him, so that was good.
However, things got strange with Denise.
She seemed quieter than usual, which was saying something. She often seemed lost in thought, like she was thinking hard about something. And Harry came over less than usual. Were they about to break up?
“What’s up with you and Harry?” I asked bluntly one day as I returned with groceries, setting the bags on the counter and quirking an eyebrow at Denise, who stared blankly into a computer screen.
She perked up from the question I shot her way and licked her lips. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not stupid. I see what’s happening.”
She nibbled on her lower lip and looked down at her lap. “I don’t know...it’s complicated.”
I laughed and sat across from her. “Tell me. Maybe I can help?”
Denise looked around, as if afraid to find someone listening in on us. “Harry keeps a journal.”
“And?” What was so strange about someone keeping a journal? A lot of people liked to write out their thoughts.
Denise swallowed thickly. “I read his journal.”
“What was in it?”
“He has no idea I read it, Jess. I just found it in his bag while he was taking a shower and couldn’t help but open it--it’s wrong, I know, and I feel awful for looking at it. It’s just...I’ve seen him writing in it a lot and I wondered what he always liked to write about. Honestly, I expected poetry or short journal entries...but…” She trailed off, as if disturbed from the thought.
“But what?”
“There was no writing. Or at least, on the pages I saw.”
“What was there?”
“Pictures.”
“Pictures of what?”
Denise looked straight into my eyes and murmured, “Women.”
“He liked to draw porn?” That was shocking, since Harry didn’t seem the type, but I knew of plenty of people who loved drawing porn. In this time and age, that honestly wasn’t anything new.
Denise sighed. “He drew naked women, but it was more than that. It was terrifying, Jess. I saw sketches of girls tied up with rope; I saw girls being tortured in them. There never was a drawing of a male, but Jess, the sketches were so detailed, and it was so disgusting.” She shivered and hugged herself.
“Are you sure that was his journal?” I asked quietly, my tone growing solemn. Yes, it wasn’t unusual to have someone draw porn. But porn where girls were being tied and tortured? That was disturbing.
“It had his signature on the front cover.”
“Have you asked him about it?”
Denise stared over my shoulder, fiddling with her fingers. “I’m scared to.”
I couldn’t blame her.
“He’s probably into rough stuff, that’s all.” I played it casual and shrugged. “Some guys are like that.”
“They are?”
“Of course. Haven’t you ever heard of BDSM?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s basically a relationship involving dominance and submission. It’s kind of popular recently. But seriously, if you think this is too weird about Harry, you should talk to him about it. The most important thing in a relationship is trust and communication. If Harry is into that stuff and you’re strictly against it, break up with him. Find a guy who fits you more.”
“I just...I really like him.” Denise mumbled. “I feel like I’m judging him for this, you know?”
“I know what you mean. But like I said, if you’re not into that at all, then you two won’t be compatible. Talk to him, reach some boundaries. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him.”
“He’ll get mad if he knows I read his journal.”
“It’s always best to be honest. Let him know you were sorry, but you were only curious. Its a damn good thing you decided to look.”
“Yeah...thanks for the advice. I’ll meet up with him for lunch tomorrow or something and talk to him.”
I smiled at her. “Of course. Remember, just be honest. It’ll be fine. I’m sure you two will work this out.”
“Yeah, hopefully.” She smiled at me, though it seemed pained, and she started putting the groceries away. I silently started helping her, figuring it would be quicker if she and I did it.
