Rupture // h.s au

63. "Open your eyes."

Autumn

The first thing I felt were the handcuffs ripping through the skin of my wrist, shedding layers upon layers, till it reached the bones. Blood dropping onto the ground, dissolving into dirt and nothingness.

The second thing I felt was the thumping headache, that was almost blinding. I was certain my eyes were glued shut with dried blood and disregarded tears. And for the life of me, I couldn't awaken. I wasn't really certain I wanted to.

Then I felt the nausea hitting against the delicate walls of my stomach, wanting a release. I felt the tightness in my chest and wondered if there was something laying there, taking all my breath away. Felt the weariness of my muscles, every time I tried to move at all. Felt the numbness in my limbs that were frequently disturbed by a pulsing ache, before falling numb again.

My mind was fuzzy, heavy, and slow. I didn't understand. I could remember crying. I could remember tears and screams and whispers. Shaking and holding and rapid breathing. I could remember kisses and touches and hearts finally falling into place. But then everything was torn away from me.

Harry. God. I could remember the smile he gave me before he faded into darkness, along with everything else, as if I'd dreamt him somehow. I wondered if I had. Maybe I'd never left my father's camp at all. Maybe I'd never met or fallen in love with him. Maybe there wasn't a Harry that existed in the world, and I'd created him, to get me through my own.

It had felt real though. The rise, the downfall. The love, the hate, all the rocky inbetween. The pulls, the pushes. The promises; broken, and not so much so. Everything felt real with him. And I really thought I'd stood a chance. I really thought I'd be able to stay there, with him, hidden away from everything outside the two of us, protected from everything roaming inside of me.

A whimper went past my lips, as I breathed in, coughing out the scent of death and dust and thickness. My chest ached, and I wondered how long I'd be able to go without breathing before passing out again. My eyes faltered, opening and closing, testing the waters, assessing if I'd be able to handle what existed beyond my eyelids.

That was the last thing I'd felt, before a gasp ripped through me, feeling like my lungs would collapse with the aftermath, like my heart would break apart. I struggled against the pole on which I was handcuffed, tried to step away, before I crashed back into the wall behind me. Harry was across the room; his head low, hair almost completely shielding his face away, but I could still see the cuts and the bruises and the blood and the swelling. His hands were over his head, handcuffed to a pipe that passed across the room. His legs were barely touching the ground. His figure was still. And I waited. I watched for his chest to rise or fall; to do anything. To give me any fucking sign that he was still alive. But there was nothing.

" Harry? Harry, come on, open your eyes. It's me. It's Autumn. Please. Open your eyes."

I could no longer feel the skin tearing, as I pushed against the pole, willing it to break like my heart did. I couldn't feel much, except for my heart pounding, every hit seeming to spell out Harry's name. I just wanted to get to him. I just wanted to hold him and pour life into him like he'd done to me, over and over again. I just wanted him to open his eyes and look at me, or smile at me, and I'd take that as my last memory of the world. Of him. I'd take it. Just not this. He couldn't go like this.

" Dammit, Harry, wake up!" I screamed out, tears and sweat and blood falling against my skin, dissolving into one another, making an ugly looking pool right beneath my feet. A door opened, and in came a few soldiers surrounding my father. All the wreckage inside me subsided, a wave of blind rage and hatred crashed over me, and I drowned. I sank and I thought I'd never surface again. After all, the hand that had always pulled me out, was hanging from a pipe, decaying away.