dear harry [h.s]

day 4

Dear Harry,

I woke up in tears. I gasped for air and frantically screamed your name. It was a horrible, awful dream. You attempted suicide, but I was there to witness it. I tried to stop you, I did, but you had a pistol to your head. Your finger pulled the trigger before I could take it away. The helplessness in your eyes is still the only thing I see. I dropped to my knees, pretending that you were still alive; breathing. Please tell me that it was just a dream.

I hadn't ate since he left. So, I finally got the strength to make breakfast. Buttermilk waffles with eggs on toast, Harry's favourite. I made a mess in the kitchen and I knew how much he hates messes.

In a poor attempt to clean what I made filthy, a glass of juice shattered to the floor and I slipped in it. And for the first time since he went away, I laughed. It had been a while since I heard that joyous sound.

And then I sat still on the kitchen tile, my laughs silencing. I should have been more happy around him when he was here. But, my depression had been taking over a good portion of my life. He had to tolerate my constant sadness and irritability. And in the last weeks I spent with him, all we did was fight. And maybe all this time, I knew why he left me.