Not A Mystery Anymore

*Book two in The Mystery Girl series*
Harry and Emma were having a hard year and their relationship was rocky. Harry thought that marrying Emma would be the answer, that it would solve everything. It does, but only for a while. Everything goes wrong when Harry finds out Emma's secret.

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4. My Fault

Harry's POV

I lay next to Emma as she sleeps. I can feel her heartbeat. It's slow and steady and calming, but yet I still can't fall asleep. I feel like Emma self harming is my fault. I mean, I didn't even notice. Granted, the scars weren't big, she was still ruining her perfect body. 

What am I saying? She's still perfect. Everyone has scars, wether it be from self harm or just an accident. 

I still don't understand why Emma didn't tell me earlier. She must have been doing it for a while because there were a lot of scars. I push back the covers and count. 

One, two, there....eighteen, nineteen, twenty. I needed to stop. This was too much. I climb out of bed and walk out into the living room. I pace back and forth, running my fingers through my hair. I needed to get it cut, it was getting long and annoying. 

I glance into the kitchen, remembering the pack of cigarettes Zayn had left here. Emma had put them in the tupper-ware cabinet, knowing that I never go in there. She also thought I didn't know they were in there. 

I dig all the way to the back and find the half empty pack of Marlboros. I glance over to the door to the bedroom, which I could just barely see from where I was standing. The door was open and Emma was still sound asleep. I blink away the tears forming in my eyes and roughly brush them away with the back of my hand. A habit I had picked up from Emma. She always did it when she was trying not to cry. 

I grab my coat out of the small closet next to the door and slip it on. I put the pack into the pocket, then slip on my shoes. I remember that I needed a lighter and quickly grab one out of the junk drawer. I look over at the digital clock on the microwave. It was one o'clock in the morning. I was finally feeling the sleep take over my body. I hold my breath and walk out of the flat, being careful not to slam the door and wake Emma. She was a light sleeper, and is woken up by almost everything. 

I step into the elevator and lean my back up against the wall. I know Emma would kill me if she knew what I was about to do. I didn't want to do it wither, but I knew it would help my stress go away. I walk out into the chilly March air. I shiver a bit and pull out the package of cigarettes. My hands shake as I place the thin tobacco filled cylinder in my mouth. It take me a few tries to light the lighter, but I finally manage to get it lit. 

I breathe in deeply. I cough a bit, but it feels good. I breathe in again and then flick the ashes off the end of the cigarette. I bounce a bit, trying to keep warm. I nod at a lady walking by. 

"Harry?" I hear a shaky voice say. It's Emma. 

'Shit' I think. I slowly turn around to face her. Her eyes were hurt. More than I had ever seen before. She was in a sweatshirt and pants now. I must have woken her up when I closed the door to the flat. 

"Emma, let me explain-" I drop the cigarette and walk over to her. I touch her shoulder and she steps back. 

"There's nothing to explain Harry!" she runs back inside. 

What had I done? 

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