Dear Harry

You've been gone for two weeks now. I haven't been coping well. The boys have even sent me to a therapist to help me forget. But I can't forget. You're all I ever think about. Your luscious curls, the way you smile lights up a room, your green eyes that I love so much. You're impossible to forget. I don't want to forget.

Of course the boys are worried about me. I'm even worried about me. My therapist is worried as well, and that's why she has handed me this journal, so I can write down my innermost thoughts. I have to give it to her every week to read over, but I just feel so weird giving it to her. Most of my thoughts revolve around you, so I guess that's why she wants to read it over, to make sure I'm handling everything well.

But to be honest, I'm not, and yes I'm fairly aware she will read this. But the truth has got to come out sooner or later, yeah? She never specifically told me what to write, but just that I have to write. So I'm writing to you. Starting from day one.


33. Day forty-two & forty-three

I woke up with a headache yesterday morning, and I figure that I had just drunken too much the night before. I can’t remember a thing of what I did. When I left my room I found Liam reading the newspaper silently on the couch. When he heard I was awake, he looked up and smiled softly towards me, patting the spot beside him, beckoning me to come over.
I stayed put where I was, and he only sighed heavily before speaking.
“How are you feeling?” He asked.
I don’t know if it was the hangover talking, or if I just had forgotten. But like I said, it still feels so unreal to me. But I regret what I said next.
“Where’s Harry?”
The tears then came flowing through Liam’s eyes, and he sat on our couch crying his eyes out. I was going to ask him what was wrong, when it suddenly hit me. You were gone. I know that I’ve said it plenty of times before, but I had never believed it until now.
You’re really gone.
I then felt myself drop to the floor, all control in my body vanishing as I blacked out completely.
Now here I am, sitting in a hospital bed with wires attached inside me, pumping chemicals into my bloodstream as if I actually needed them. It’s not like I’m sick or anything, yet everyone keeps looking at me as if I am, and that at any moment I could break.

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