Forevermore {h.s}

43.

I knocked on the door, playing nervously with my fingers. My stomach cramped by nervousness, my hands shaking slightly.

The door opened as I glanced up to look at Willow standing with a smile on her face in front of me, when she saw me her smile disappeared for a few seconds. I gently lifted the corners of my mouth and she let me in quietly. I stepped into the house with my hands clasped in front of me and took a few deep breaths. Shayleen was sitting in the kitchen with Tobin and they were all smiling at me.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry I ran away yesterday. It was so stupid of me, I just needed time to breathe it out, that's all" I explained, my voice shaking a little from the feeling of stupidity I had inside me.

"It's okay sweetheart, we knew this was going to be a big thing for you, we understand your actions" Shayleen grabbed Tobin's hand and looked at me empathetically, kindness shining from her eyes.

"So we are now...cousins" I rubbed Willow's arm as she just looked at me shyly. I didn't give in and hugged her. This hug was different than before, now I knew we were related and that there were still some good people in our family.

"I'm glad I found my family," I smiled at Tobin and Shayleen and I stayed with them for the rest of the day. We talked about how Tobin spent his childhood writing to his mom and sometimes quoting funny things she sent him. Willow talked about how surprised she was that I lived in her grandmother's house because she didn't know I was her granddaughter. I felt I had found a little home in this village that was impossible to find in New York. I felt that my roots belonged here and I was naturally happy. Willow and I are cousins, I still can't believe it.

As I thought about all this on the way home, I realized that one of my questions had already been answered. However, many other things kept going through my head and it was driving me crazy. Sometimes I wished I hadn't thought it all through. I hate it when I have to think too much, it kills me. But I'm a person who needs to have a logical answer to all questions. I don't know why, it's just the way it is. If someone doesn't answer something I'm asking, I get nervous and my head is a total mess.

As I was walking home, I noticed that the gate was half-open. I opened it wide in confusion to enter and in the darkness on the stairs, I saw a body lying on my porch and I almost tripped.

"Harry? For God's sake what happened to you" with fear in my voice I kneeled beside him and gently touched his face. He had a horrible amount of blood coming from his nose, he was writhing on the ground in pain as if his stomach had been cut open. I saw this scene too many times.

"They were trying to get into your house, I had to-" he didn't even finish his sentence and crumpled to the ground again. His hand was on his stomach and his breathing was rapid.

I put my hand over my mouth and, with tears in my eyes, helped him to his feet. While he sat down on the couch, bending over at the waist, I grabbed the first aid box and set it on the table in front of me. "Don't you want to go to the hospital?" I asked just to be sure, though I got the answer I was expecting. Harry let out a painful "No" as I let out a sigh and helped him get up again.

"Let's go to the bedroom instead" I decided and just barely dragged Harry upstairs.

He sat down on the soft bed, I turned on the small bedside lamp, took off his shirt and started to apply the healing cream. His stomach was all bruises and scratches. I was careful, the cream spread gently under the part where the butterfly tattoo was. I then wiped away the blood he had under his nose and cleaned his face as well.

"Do you want to ruin yourself? You can't keep doing this Harry" I shook my head because I was afraid of what people who did this to him are capable of.