Letters From Scarlette {Haylor}

Chapter 35:

••A/N••

Writers block. sorry guyssss. But okay here we go againnnnn:) Btw thank you so so much for the 5k+ reads. I honestly cant believe it, thank you. Okay on to the chapter

~Brooke

••

Chapter 35:

♥Harrys POV♥

3 full days. Three full days since the funeral where Taylor and I put our daughters body to rest. We haven't been able to speak much, but we stay at the mountain house, somehow trying to prolong the memories. 'Thought I Had Died' plays on repeat in my earphones, the cool November air brushing my hair lightly. I sit on the hill overlooking all the mountains and valleys, creasing together and overlapping the next. Scarlettes grave sits just a ways down, sitting alone with flowers constantly covering it.

"thought I had died

when I was alone

until you found me here

and brought me back home

i thought I had died

was caught in the flood

until you lifted me up out of my grave

and into the sun"

The next line sticks. I repeat it over and over in my head. Rolling it around as I whisper it softly,

"Pain is part of being born"

My hands fiddle with a small blade of grass, tying it into knots while my brain grasps on to different subjects. Apparently the boys are worried about me, and to be honest they should. Though I got a warning, I still couldn't prepare for my child to die in my arms.

"Hey stranger,"

A hoarse voice comes from behind me and pulling me from my thoughts. I turn slightly, seeing Taylor standing there hugging her arms tightly around a big jacket. Harry you idiot, you forgot to be there for her again.

"Hey," I mumble, coming off more as a croak. She sits down next to me, staring off at the mountains. Her eyes are stained red and her face is splotchy from crying.

"You didn't come inside last night, are you okay?" She whispers softly as she keeps her gaze on the distance. She knows I'm not. We both know we aren't.

"Tay, you know I'm not. I know you aren't. We both know we're just not okay." I say, just above a whisper. The silence drags out before my broken voice regains the air.

"I haven't been there for you and I'm sorry. I've just been-"

"-I know, Harry. We've both been different lately. I understand.." She cuts me off, laying her head on my shoulder softly. I lean mine on hers, knowing we both are going through this same thing. The silence is somehow comforting and peaceful with Taylor here.

"I made some pumpkin bread if you want some... I kinda bake when I'm depressed," She says, stifling a giggle. I grin lightly, looking at her pure natural face.

"Let's go then, you must be cold," I reply, pulling her close and leading her down the hill towards the log house.

As I step in, the aroma of pumpkin bread and spices mixed with hot chocolate meet me. I remove my jacket and toss it on the couch, crossing over the the kitchen bar stools. Taylor pours our cups, cuting off slices of bread and neatly arranging them cutely. For a moment I might actually get her mind off of Scarlette. And possibly mine.

••Short chapter sorry••