Harry in Greendale//h.s au

Chapter Six

Harry

The sun shone upon the sliver of hope which lived in the shards of our broken hearts, revealing the people we truly were, rather than who they had created.

I could see clearly now.

The dark wall which once blinded my childlike perception was but a foggy greyness to overcome. Rose showed me the beauty of the world. With my hand in hers, our hearts beating in time, she skipped through the barricade, only to reveal it was a translucent bleakness my mind had created.

"Isn't it a wonderful day?" I sighed. My eyes shut close as I took a deep breath in. Even the air tasted sweeter. "It's just so darn beautiful."

A low giggle jumped out of Miss Lolita's poorly done red lips. "Really?"

"Why it's just the finest weather I have ever laid my eyes on," I said, nodding. "Perfect weather for a picnic."

She shook her head. "Have you even looked outside today?" That infectious giggle you would expect from a young girl and not an experienced woman once again fell from her mouth. "It's raining—pouring! They say there's gonna be a big storm tonight, perhaps even a hurricane. Oh, darnnit. It'll probably ruin those crops I planted with the patients. It took one whole day to do—"

"Now, now," I said. "Don't be bitter. Negativity isn't going to bring your crops back, nor will it change the weather."

Her eyes looked past me, through the window, and at the delightful weather. "I just don't see the beauty in the weather, Harry. It's cold. The crops are gonna be flooded. The flowers are all wilted. The rain is pouring."

"You just don't understand," I said.

I placed my head in the palm of my hands and sighed, looking out at the charming weather I could be venturing in. But instead, I was here, inside these four walls, sitting in this poorly constructed uncomfortable little chair, and becoming more and more like their little doll every day.

"Rain washes away the pain people ink onto their hearts and allows them, even for a little while, to forget who they're supposed to be, and be wild youth. It's absolutely positutely delightful."

"Oh my," she said, shaking her head. Her hand shaded her eyes. "I can't believe I forgot. It slipped my mind. It completely slipped my mind."

"Pardon?"

Heat had risen to her plump cheeks. "What's the date today, Harry?"

"January the twenty-second," I said, slowly. My eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask?"

"I," she picked at her cuticles until her fingers were red, "it's just that—I was just wondering, I just thought—" She sighed. "Do you remember anything about the twenty-second of January 1952?"

I shook my head. "No. Did something happen that I'm supposed to remember?" I smiled. "Rose and I did something on that day, didn't we? Was that the day Mrs Grimshaw let us go have a picnic in the garden? No! I remember. That was the day me and Rose," I blushed, "first kissed."

"Oh you poor, poor child," she said. "This world is such a cruel place."

I brushed her hands off. "What are you talking about? You're scaring me."

"You don't know. I don't think you ever truly did." Her head tilted to the side as she looked at me with blue eyes full of sorrow. "You don't remember anything besides Rose, do you?"

"Of course, I only remember Rose," I said, tugging at my hair. "She is the only thing in my life worth remembering."

My head had begun to spin, and not in the way Winter's—I mean Rose's; the way Rose's touch and voice and spirit had mimicked the effects of an addictive drug and made my world hazy.

"I have to go." Miss Lolita rushed from her chair. "I need to go do something."

And then she left without a goodbye or a wave of her hand. She didn't smile. She didn't laugh. Sadness had manifested her appearance; tears gliding down an aging face; white uniform scrunched up; hair coming undone from its tight bun.

I didn't have time to dwell on the previous events—I had saved it in the back of my mind for when I was alone in my room—for the ghastly Winter had walked in through the open doors wearing a navy blue dress and bruises to match.

My uncertainty for her had grown rapidly after Rose's letter. That girl had done something. She had something to hide. If she knew anything about Rose—if she had anything to do with the.....

I just needed to know. I needed answers to Rose's departure from this Earth.

I walked over to Winter's chair with my fists clenched by my sides. Never had I felt this infuriated at anyone in my life. But there was something about Winter. She was made physically flawless to hide her capability of such evil.

"I know you know," I said.

She sighed. "Please just leave me alone. You don't understand."

"You know something about Rose's death. I know you do."

"No. No. No." Her eyes widened as she choked on the truth clutching tightly onto my words. She tugged on the collar of her shirt as she searched relentlessly for air to breathe. "I have to go. Someone's calling me." She ran out of the room, stopping at the doorway to look her behind her, and whispering a small, barely audible "I'm sorry."

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Qotd: What country are you from? 

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