1985 (h.s.)

Chapter Forty

Days dragged along slower than you could imagine. It felt like my whole life was in slow motion. I hadn't left my bed in three days, other than the occasional bathroom trip. The only thing I had eaten was an apple that my aunt set on my dresser every morning. Even then, I would barely consume about half of it. I had gotten past the point of hunger. 

My stomach was screaming at me to go raid the cabinets and eat until my hearts were content. Sharp pains pierced the area where my stomach sat. It was the only thing I'd felt in the moments following reading that damn letter. 

Most of my days were made up of sitting alone in the darkness. If I thought I was fucked before he left, now I was entirely and completely fucked.

It's like I could hardly function without his presence. I find myself asking, 'What would Harry do?'  or 'What is Harry doing right now? Does he even miss me?' 

It's rare for me to be so broken up over someone I had just recently met (and fell in love with). Is this what it's like? Being in love? If so, it's shit. It's utterly shit. I don't want it. 

The phone rang every morning and afternoon. My aunt answered it every time. She tried to tell me what they said, but I wasn't able to listen. I was too busy weighing the pros and cons of my situation. If you couldn't guess, the cons list was lengthy. Finding a solution hasn't even crossed my mind. 

Seemingly, I had to let myself cope and heal first. How I was going to do that was a mystery. For now, I'll stick to brooding in my room. It didn't really make me feel any better; It also didn't make me feel any worse. It was a nice medium where the only pain I could feel was my shrinking stomach screaming at me.

I have not changed my clothes since. Meaning, I was still in Harry's t-shirt, which no longer smelled like him due to washing it. As soon as I got the necklace, it was clasped around my neck. That hasn't left either. The rest of the letter and its contents still laid motionless on my bedside table. I was clueless about what to do with them and what to do with myself. The sane side of my head, or what was left of it, told me I shouldn't stay in my room sulking over a boy forever. It was true, but every time I think of that, I remember how much that boy did for me.

Falling out of love could be a hard thing. Especially after accepting your feelings. It took me a month to realize I had a crush on him, let alone that I loved him. It may have all happened very quickly, but I was so sure that he'd be around for a long time. I was foolish for thinking that. Everyone I cared about either deceived me or left me. It wasn't helping that I pushed them away either. I was scared that they'd backstab me in the end. That's how it usually happened.

This routine of trusting people only to have them hurt me has been exhausting. Hell, I've started to desert Niall because of it. Honestly, how likely is it that he truly wants to be friends with a mess like me? I wouldn't want to put him through that anyway. He deserves to be able to live a full life without the burden that is my episodes of grief, or whatever you'd call it. 

I needed someone to tell me how I could feel. I couldn't keep up this numbness. Yes, it kept me from facing reality, but it also kept me from moving on. 

From past experience, I should be mad. I'm not. I should be sad. I'm not. I could even be feeling a little bit of relief. He was safe and that's all I ever wanted for him. He'd be starting a new life in a new town. He and his mother would be safe and away from this Jay dude. He would no longer walk to school with a limp or wear turtlenecks to cover the bruises on his neck. He could go out in public and give someone a smile. Maybe, even, he'd find someone to keep him happy. 

I hoped for the best for him. It was least I could do for him after all he'd done for me. Even if he hasn't noticed, I hurt him more than I helped him. It was probably my fault that things got worse. He was gone more and that might've resulted in a worse punishment.