Remnant [h.s]

chapter twenty seven

There's this pain, and it won't go.

☆ ☆ ☆

Arwen Milton

I hadn't heard from Harry in a while. That was a lie. I had heard from him, but it had only been simple messages. He felt like a stranger all over again.

He had sent me a photo of the kids helping him put the Christmas tree up and he sends photos of the kids all the time, he sends me updates oh the scrapbook they've been making together, but when I ask how he is or when I ask if I can see him, I get shut down.

He doesn't let me in and kills me to feel so distant from him.

I didn't know how he really was, I didn't know how he was really doing. It's like he just cut himself off and it left me feeling a little lost.

I had purposely thrown myself into work this week, picking up as many hours as I could, I'd purposely do overtime and linger around until I physically couldn't stay in the building anymore. I tried my best not to go home.

Because at home is where I was the most vulnerable, at home is where the monsters of my mind came out and home was where it was quiet enough to think.

I didn't like thinking, I didn't like having time to think. Because all that would consume my thoughts was Harry and the kids, but specifically Harry and his whereabouts. All I could think of was what he was up to and how he was doing. It's all I wanted to know.

So instead of sitting at home alone, feeling sorry for myself as I let the demons of my brain nibble away at any rational thoughts, I spent my time wisely.

I went to visit my mum most evenings, staying for dinner and a catch-up, or if she was busy, I'd take myself to the cemetery where I'd talk to the stars for all that it's worth. I'd beg for a sign over and over again, though my response was little to none. I beg for forgiveness too, but again, there'd never be a response, apart from the wind howling through the night.

It was getting darker and a lot colder out, Christmas was just a few weeks away now. So I had taken it upon myself to decorate Jazz's grave. She was still missing a headstone, but I tried my absolute best to make it as festive and as beautiful as I possibly could.

I knew I was one of the few people who actually had to courage to come down here and sit with her, and so it felt like my responsibility to make this place as peaceful as possible. I wanted her resting place to be as colourful and as bright as she was, I wanted it to be full of her favourite things. I wanted it to be a place that represented her, I didn't want it to just be a mound of mud.