Malign Disposition [H.S]

The End

Marley
8 months later

Play The song when you see (+)

Everybody handles pain differently.

Grieving is a tricky thing, it's a sensitive thing and it's something I don't really understand myself.

It's been 8 months.

And I don't think I've spoken to anyone besides short responses, I didn't even want to listen to what anyone had to say even though the guys have tried. They have all tried to speak to me but I've constantly been brushing them off and pushing them away. and maybe I am being a downright bitch.

But I feel like I don't deserve to be comforted.

But this is how I cope. I like to be left alone and they have all respected that even though they have all been pushing me to read that one page out of Harry's journal that I keep locked up in our dresser. I haven't been able to even look at it yet.

They keep telling me that it's not their place to say why and that I should just do it. Zayn told me it may just give me a sense of comfort, but how could that be possible?

I tend to just lock myself in my flat with Twiggy and Cliff. I haven't even gone on a single mission since, nor have I slept in our bedroom.

I couldn't do it.

8 whole months of Rain having to peel me up off the floor of my bathroom, 8 months of Zayn having to hide and throw away every single bottle of alcohol that I could get my hands on. 8 months of me sitting outside alone staring up at the sky only to realize that the stars didn't feel the same, they didn't shine as bright anymore.

I no longer associate them with happiness.

Nothing felt the same, I didn't even feel like myself I was just hollow.

I knew I was destroying my life, because at some point you need to push through your grief and move on for your sake, as well as the people around you. Because at the end of the day all of us have lost a man who has willingly fought for us all. Harry was selfless, and that's only one word I can simply bring up to describe him.

He was perfect, it's impossible to not have a few flaws rooted into you but he was real, raw, a ray of sunshine on a cool day, someone who made you laugh when you really needed it, he was a brother, a lover, he was my light at the end of the tunnel.

Harry was home. There was simply nobody else like him.

This never-ending cycle of defeat and anguish consumed me for months on end, I barely ate, I barely slept, I was simply just nothing, and I really fucking missed how I was before it felt like I was slowly dying.

And many times I wanted to because I felt as if life wasn't worth living without Harry because if you really think about it, he was always there. In spirit, he's always been right there with me since the beginning.

Soul mates.

Harry wanted me to read his journal, he especially wanted me to read the last page, he said so when we were in Greece on that yacht and if there is anything I wanted to do was to read what he had written on those pages.

I was scared, just the thought of touching that journal that he used to hold onto for dear life everywhere we went made me sick to my stomach in dread.

For months I was avoiding it, but one sleepless night as I was laying in the living room with my heart and thoughts racing I felt the sudden urge to feel close to him again. And I knew that by feeling close to him was through his journal.

I had thought about calling one of the guys in just for some moral support as I read it, but I didn't want to feel weak, weaker than I already was.

Those few steps I had taken to the bedroom was probably the longest few seconds of my life. I remember when I opened the door it was freezing cold from not being used. The bed was how we left it, a single pack of Marlboro reds sat on his nightstand, the air around me smelt like him.