Rupture // h.s au

43. "What did you do?"

Harry

Losing a parent feels like all air is choked out of your lungs, like a little part of your heart broke away, and it's never to be mended again. At first, you don't really understand; how you'd walk into their room and they wouldn't be there, how all their things are there but they aren't. A toothbrush, a used towel, their favorite item of clothing, their favorite cologne, it's all there. And you can't help but think that they'll come back for them. They have to. They wouldn't just leave them behind. Or leave you.

Then, the smallest of all things triggers the horrible unraveling, that they had indeed left it all behind, that they wouldn't be coming back, that you'd have to live your life, past them, no matter how impossible it all feels. That's when you feel it; the heart wrenching pain, the consistent inability to breathe, the ache, tearing you from limb to limb.

You carry a weight that never goes away. You feel a hole in your chest, that only grows, darkens, taking over you, bit by bit, till there's nothing left of you. Till you cease to exist, because they had as well. And the more you live, the more you wish you didn't. You can't help but fear death a little less. Crave it a bit more, because life is just so miserable without them. You're no longer scared of losing the one you love most, because you already had, but you're scared of everything else. You feel weak and defenseless, like your spine had been broken in two, and that's exactly what it feels like. Like bones can't lift the weight of your body because it's too fucking heavy. Like no amount of air could ever retrieve your ability to breathe. Like you're living a life that isn't meant for you, that doesn't fit, doesn't feel right.

Losing a parent is the most horrible fucking thing in the world, and that was why I struggled to forgive her, although, deep down, I'd always known I was more mad at the world than her. The world had taken so much from me; my father, my childhood, my innocence, my life, my soul. And now, it had taken the thought I had of her; ever so beautiful, broken to pieces, in need of my gentle repair. And I hated the world for doing that. I just wanted to always see her the way I'd loved to, and now, I couldn't, because she had killed my father, and although I wasn't meant to blame her, I couldn't help but do just that.

I laid in the bed, that was still suffering from the aftermath of the time that she had broken it, to chase after the young and frightened Raine. It felt like it had been a different person, that I had tied to that very bed. I hadn't known I'd love her so much. I hadn't known she'd break my heart so profoundly. I hadn't known I'd break hers as well. It all seemed so distant, like it had happened in a different lifetime, with two different people, instead of her and I. But we only had one lifetime, and ours was miserable, but at least, we had a bit of love. That was real. Because if it wasn't, it wouldn't have hurt so viciously, to have the illusion of it, torn away.

I couldn't sleep. My heart ached, reminding me that I could no longer sleep, without a hint of her in my surroundings, and this room, though it had little imprints of her everywhere, felt nothing like my own. It didn't smell of me, but of her stormy scent, along with my mother's home-made soap. It didn't have my clothes scattered around, but what little belongings she had. It didn't feel like home, and I wondered how I managed to find a home in the one person I could never belong to. I never had a choice. I never stood a chance. She was as close to home as I had gotten, ever since my world had fallen apart. And now I was homeless again, with a broken heart, and a chaotic mind. I just wanted her. I just wanted to go home.

The light seeped beneath the door, announcing the start of a new day, when I hadn't even recovered from the last. I sighed, defeated, as I carried my body out of the unwelcoming bed, going to take a shower, before I got dressed. I walked down the road, occasionally greeting those on duty, willing myself to focus on the world's chaos instead of my own. Listening for stories that weren't about a man and a woman in love, although, they were never meant to be. Watching for eyes that weren't as greenish brown as her own.