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Chapter 6

It almost comical really. The sky. To explain it to someone who hadn't seen it themselves would be an impossible task. To explain a vast expanse of nothing, dotted by floating water, ruled over by a burning ball. Guided by the stars, encasing life as we know it. I stare up at it, the pockets of water are tinted grey and full. Threatening to explode and rain down on me. However the darkness could be explained as just be the waves of pollution twirling through the air marking everything in its path. Whispering its destruction to the clouds. Probably not though.

I can feel whispers on my skin. Not just from the words of the people down below, but from the wind slapping at my skin, shaking at my clothes and slipping into the deep crevice's of my stomach. Tainting my blood and poisoning the colour. With what seems to be all the energy in my body, I raise my arms to my face. I fight the urge to be startled at the sight of them. They seemed to have swallowed up my escaping life and are now coated in a sheet of dirty brown, emitting an aura of expiration. But the hauntingly beguiling kind. My hands sparkled in the pink light. Alluring and Extraordinary

Harry had always said I had pretty hands. Eloquent was the exact word he used, as I had wrapped my fingers around his guitar all those weeks ago

"and place a finger there and strum" he had said. His body behind mine, enclosing me in his arms as I held the instrument. The stool I had been sat upon was rough and wooden, but it had been the perfect height for Harry to lean around and help me. I had pressed down on the strings, applying pressure then with my other hand I stroked my thumb along. A beautiful noise came from the instrument. "that was C" he said. Then guided my hands to another position, I followed resting my fingers on the strings he lead me too. "and E"

"I don't think I'm ever going to get the hang of this" I told him, as he had tried to get me to recall what he had taught me.

"Hey, practice makes perfect. I didn't know either until a couple of years ago" He had responded, taking the guitar from my arms and resting the strap lazily on his neck before breaking out into the soft tune of his song.

"wow" I had reacted in awe. I can remember it now, the softness of his voice. Deep and enticing. the way the words had rolled off of his tongue was magical and crisp. Transporting me into the wondrous world I would come to love.

What I would give to hear him sing one last time. To hear the steady pulse of his voice drifting me into the unknown. I strain my ears, hoping, that maybe. Just maybe if I listened hard enough music would drift inside my mind. Pulling me into a spot of contentment. Instead I am met with the same city noises I had heard just seconds ago. The incessant bumble of noise bringing my mind out of the safe Harry shaped hole and pushing me back into the darkness, I kept trying to leave.

I force my thoughts away, begging my subconscious to leave me in peace. But I'm met with resistance and a tear leaks from my left eye. Falling down my cheek in an antagonising manner. In the same way it had all those years ago, when I was met with a look of coldness and ice. Derived from an action as monotonous as a blink, accented with the charm of a smile.

Mother had always said a smile is the prettiest thing you can wear. It pains me to think that she was so wrong. There was nothing beautiful about the smile I saw that night as the cruel man stood before my sister.

"someone's in the mood for blood" he had laughed, soundlessly. Observing the distressed child in front of him.

"you hurt my mummy" Joe had said, limbs flailing as she lunged for the man. Her blows were avoided easily by a simple step and it only took one attempt for the man who had been holding her previously, to regain control. The look of defeat that lay upon her face when she was caught was heart-breaking. It still is.

The knife had dropped with a sharp noise as she was being restrained. I had expected the man to keep the knife when he picked it up, yet it was handed to me instead and he fished out a second one to hand to Joe. The weight of the blade had been heavy and strange in my hands. It was the first time I had ever touched the knife, and the last for a long time.

I remember whimpering as he brushed a fingertip up my arm, allowing me to break up int a nervous tremble at his touch. Hands released me. Looking back, I should have taken this opportunity to run. It's so plain in my mind. I should have held the knife, tightly and used it to secure my release and run. Run to safety. Run away from what I was about to do. But I didn't.

Instead my entire body froze and my feet stayed rooted to the ground, with my eyes wide and my ears sharp. Because what happened next would scar my mind, in a way that even Harry couldn't heal.