kalopsia [harry styles]

23

tw of blood and suicide babes, ill fill you in a summary at the end if you cant read it

FALLON COLLINS

I'm in a room. Alone. There's no sound, just my breathing to fill in the lack of noise. If I stopped breathing, I could almost hear my heart thumping in my ears.

I look around, not really knowing where I am.

Noticing that I'm still wearing the clothes from last night, I frown.

This wasn't Harry's apartment, and it wasn't mine either.

Actually, it was a room that I'd never seen before.

It's all white around me, a dim light illuminating the room. On the wall in front of me, there's a single door. It seems to be the only door that's visible.

I contain a shiver as I walk forward, my hand stretching out to the door handle.

Twisting it, I swing the door open, wincing when I'm met by a bright light. It surrounds me for a few seconds before everything dims again, and then suddenly I'm not in the room anymore. I'm in my parent's apartment.

I stand still, my chest heaving up and down with every breath I take, the memories of this apartment flooding back like a tidal wave. It's like I've been punched in the stomach, because I have no breath and I swear it feels like there's no oxygen in the room.

"Fallon! You're here!" My mother's voice makes my head snap to where she is, and panic rises on the back of my throat.

"Mom?" I ask, my voice shaking. It was like the room was freezing cold, even though the fireplace seemed to be lit and the heater was on.

My mother smiles, her eyes glistening as she walks to me. I flinch slightly as her hand goes to grab mine, holding it in her own.

"You're a little late, but just in time for dinner. Faith is getting ready and your father is in his study" She explains, still holding my hand as she leads me towards the kitchen.

Confusion flushes through me as I look around. The place seemed to be the same as when I'd last visited, a little over ten months ago... I hated coming here because it reminded me too much of Faith. The only difference was that everything was decorated with the theme of christmas.

"Mom, what's going on?" I ask, turning back to her as she leans down to take a tray of food from the oven.

She frowns, looking up at me. "What are you talking about, Fallon?" The corners of her mouth point down, and I can see the wrinkles on her forehead. Her gaze was worried and genuine, and for a moment I found myself missing her.

Right now, in this moment, she looked like my past mom, so like the person I'd missed for so long and craved hugging so many times over the last year. She looked kind and caring and everything a mother should be.

But also looked nothing like what my present mother was like.

My mother right now was cold, and bitter. She was mean and always had some kind of comment on the back of her throat, and she looked at me as if my pure existence bothered her, and it probably did.

She seemed to be angry at life: mourning the loss of her favorite daughter seemed to be her 9-5 job nowadays.

Im jolted back into thought as my mother puts the tray of food on the counter, standing upright and dusting herself off before grabbing my shoulders and looking up at me, a bright smile on her face.