Legendary // H.S

47.

'Wings wouldn't help you

Wings wouldn't help you down'

*

'Fuck!' Harry screams through the through the door. It's all George and I have heard for the past twenty minutes as Graham got to work on the injured man. I'm not sure what he can do other than sew up his wounds, it's not like the man can administer a blood transfusion in any other setting than a hospital. I just pray that Harry has enough strength to hold on and let his body heal.

With each yell I'm brought back to the same sounds that came from Joe's mouth the night I shot him. The same blood curdling screams as Harry tried to remove the bullet from his leg, the same fear that erupted from his body as the claret leaked from him by the ounce. There is nothing worse than hearing someone in pain and knowing that you can do absolutely nothing about it. While my efforts may have bought him some time, that is all I could have done for him.

It doesn't help that covering my body is the same red liquid I fear. The same colour that sparks a fight or flight response within me having dealt with it more than most. Harry's blood on my body only sends my mind to the darkest places, ones I am desperately running from but am ultimately sucked into. The longer it lingers on my skin the more I fall into the abyss. It stains my skin, despite how much I've tried to wash it. It's as if it will be a permanent fixture there, a constant reminder of the damage I have caused and how I cannot fix it. How I am powerless.

Many in my life have convinced me I have little strength. My mother has made me feel weak my entire life, talking down to me and disregarding anything I think or feel. My step-father manipulated and hurt me. My ex-boyfriend played me. I have been told time and time again that I am nothing, yet I have tried to reach past it. I have attempted with all my might to find any semblance of power to overcome them, to prove them wrong. This just confirms how foolish I've been the whole time.

For I could never have control in my life, despite how deluded I became with the notion. No, that's not what has been planned for me. Whatever God there is, he has an entirely different idea of how my life shall proceed. It's not written in the stars for me to break free of my shackles and escape the turmoil. I am a victim to them.

Harry, the sweet man that has taken me in and made me feel safe, now lays on that table with wounds that could kill him. Wounds that were inflicted because of Hugo's sick obsession with me. I have done this; I am the problem.

Broken people tend to break others with them.

'I should have been there, this shouldn't be happening,' I breathe out, continuing my pace in front of the door while I bite down to my nail beds. It stings every time I pull at the skin, but I barely notice when the sounds of Harry's agony echo through the otherwise quiet house.

There's never been this much noise in here. Usually it's just the two of us engaging in simple conversation. The way the sun is shining into the windows makes it seem angelic in a way, like they're bestowing their light upon us. It illuminates the rooms with a brightness that completely counteracts the darkness within these walls. If only it had the power to really ease our suffering.

I've always enjoyed the quiet and tranquillity of the property, aimlessly wandering the halls when I'm not working just for something to do. Never do I find myself bored in his home, there's always a mystery to uncover, a story to tell. Today will be added to the blank pages waiting to be filled. A memory most would rather forget but cannot be undone.

George is trying to comfort me, following me around like a lost dog with his hands resting on my shoulders. It's more of a burden than anything else, but it's not his fault. I can tell how panicked he is in this moment too. Harry's like a brother him, someone that he admires and looks up to. He took a chance on George when no one else would. That's something he will cherish for a lifetime. 'Atlas, if you were there they would have stabbed you. That wouldn't solve anything,' he tells me, but the words bring no comfort.