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Sixty Three

TW// SUICIDE

Aubrey Hart

My eyes open with the same sick nerves twirling around in my stomach that have been preventing me from good sleep for days, my body riddled with anticipation because of what I'm planning on doing today.

Maggie gave me a good amount of time, my own procrastination driving me this far without doing what I know I have to. At next week's appointment, she's expecting me to come in with full knowledge of what Elora's letter says and how it makes me feel.

So, I'm finally going to rip off the bandaid today.

It's barely even light outside, my sheer anxiety about this stupid letter waking me up at the early hours of the morning. I glance over at the clock, it reading 7:35 am. I haven't gotten up this early without an alarm since I was a kid.

My body lays on top of Harry's, the only separation between the two of us being his silver cross chain always dangling from his neck. He doesn't seem like the religious type, but the tattoo on his hand and constant wearing of this chain tell me otherwise.

The feeling of his skin against my own makes last night come back to me entirely, my heart rate quickening just thinking about it. Something about our actions just felt... different.

It's more intimate than anything we've ever done in the physical aspect, the kissing of scars, soft movements, and simplistic position all making it seem to stray past just sex. The vast amounts of things we admitted to each other in such a vulnerable state are also making my head spin, the high number of thoughts and emotions I now have to sort through not helping with the anxiety that keeps waking me up in the first place.

I take in the warmth of his body and try to quiet my thoughts, my arms hugged around him as I feel every rise and fall of his chest due to being on top of him. I wish I could just sleep right now. I'm so comfortable in this exact position, his hands clasped at the base of my spine acting as a sort of extra safety blanket.

My looming mind overpowers any sort of comfort I'm receiving, though. Thoughts of what the letter could possibly say, a quiet voice in the back of my mind telling me it's full of blame. Like Harry said a few days ago, I don't think she would want us to end on a bad note. I can't help but worry about the possibility, though.

That brings me to yet another reason why I've held this off. This will be the official end of any sort of progression in the long story that is Elora and Aubrey Hart. This is the last time I'll ever get to see something I haven't already from her. I've seen every sketch in her many notebooks stored in her apartment, every painting she's ever sold or even thrown away, every piece of jewelry she's ever made, everything.

This letter has been the only newness I've had when it comes to her. After reading this on top of the recent loss of Charlie, it feels like I'm trying to forget her in a sense. I know I'm not, and if anything she'd be happy that I have the ability to move on, but something about it still cuts deeply into my chest.

Nobody has the ability to ever completely fill the hole she left in my heart after being taken from me far before her time should've been up. The same even goes for my dad, despite the short number of years I had him in my life. While new people have come into my life along the way to make my heart grow in overall size, the holes created by those I've lost will always be there as a reminder of my tainted past.

It's not about forgetting the past, though, it's about learning how to live with it.

I mindlessly trace circles with one of my fingers into Harry's chest as my thoughts continue to swirl about in my mind, each one having to do with one of three things: Harry, Elora, and the silence of my stalker.