Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

Epilogue - part 2

Bree Tyler

I smashed the empty shot glass that had once been filled with vodka against the wall, I've started becoming an alcoholic again.

You know, it's a twisted life that I posses. It was undescribable while it lasted, Harry. I fell in love with my kidnapper who turned out to be the leader of the mafia, that was a rollercoaster that went on for what felt like infinity. Maybe it's still everlasting. But I'm the only one in the roller car now, Harry was supposed to be right next to me in the front where we'd look down and see all the same things from the same point of view. The way the cart chugged when it went up, and we both screamed when it dropped down. Well, he didn't scream, but I did because I was always scared that my seatbelt would unbuckle and I'd slip out of the cart. Overtime, I stopped screaming and tugging at my hair because Harry had been right next to me. I knew he'd look after me and always catch me if I slipped out of my belt and fell off the coaster. But, he's no longer riding in the same roller cart as me like he was supposed to. And now that he left my side in the roller car, I scream.

It's been exactly 32 days without you, and all I've done is dream of you, wising I'd never wake up.

I dreamed of me and him standing at the alter. He talks my hand in his own, and we whisper our vows and later our whimsical "I do's." But when I wake up, he's never there and I'm not in a white dress that flows down past my ankles. My hair isn't done up, and my face isn't heavily coated in make-up. When I wake up, it's all a twisted dream that gets my hopes up for my false reality. He's not next to me, his hands in my own. My hands are empty, I'm mentally tired... so tired.

Sometimes, I just want to run and undo everything. The moment he died, I just thought that if I never met him, I'd never feel like this. I feel, worthless. Like I'm nothing, and now I'm skeptical that if I never met him at all, it would've been easier in the end. But, life is hard. It's just not fair, is it?

I'm just, grieving.. I suppose. My heart, it's been beaten. I'm surprised I haven't died from heartbreak yet. I'd be better off dead, because at least I'd be with him.

I'm fluffing out the pillows on our bed. And putting one large body pillow in your old spot to replace you, but nothing could ever replace you, Harry. Your warmth still lingers on my skin, your lips still are permanently puckered against my own, in my mind you're still here. But to the outside world, you're not.

I haven't even journaled that's how mourned I've been, I'll do it tonight though. Actually, I only journaled once when I was in the hospital in recovery, so now I only have one page left to fill the blank in. I just need to write something down, my hand is aching from the temptation, but I just couldn't bring myself to use the red pen, I hate the color red. All of my nail polish has been removed by the way my teeth had been vigorously gnawing on my nails.

I lied down in the bed, Chip curling up next to me with sad whines. He misses you too Harry, frankly as much as I do. He knows that you're gone, even if I told him about what happened to you or not.

I opened the nightstand drawer, and sifted my hand through it until I felt the familiar leather texture with three inches worth of paper. I grabbed it in my hands, and rested it against my chest before opening it and flicking to the last page, but as I clicked the ball of the pen to start writing, I realized that it had already been filled out.

Harry's handwriting, it's his handwriting written down in the last page. Oh my god, it's a letter.

I swallowed a shaky breath, as my eyes started to spout tears, my tears matched the rain pattering outside against the windows. The room suddenly seemed stuffy, I needed to get out of here, I needed to get on the balcony and take a line of cocaine before I read this. I can't contain myself, not right now.