Hooked For Good

One Last Question

So I was listening to Skillet today, and their song comatose is perfect for this amnesia arc. Give it a listen if you're up for it! This is the last chapter before Cotillion! All of your emotional issues which have been caused by this arc will be resolved, I PROMISE!! Then after that, I have some cutsie chapters in waiting. Also, just to clarify the timeline: on Monday, Harry fell down the stairs. On Tuesday, Harry lost his memory in the morning and Uma got the hook later in the day. On Wednesday, they had the talk by sunset. I'm skipping Thursday, and this chapter picks up Thursday night/really early Friday morning. Now that that's out of the way, Enjoy!

Uma's POV

I stood in a crowd made up of rowdy teenagers and lit by glowing bulbs hanging above our heads. There was music blaring from all directions, and everyone around me was whooping with the beat. I myself was also moving along with the music. Despite the noise buzzing around, every sound seemed blurred in the background. The only thing my senses were focused on was the person I was dancing with.

This was far too informal and way too gaudy to be Cotillion, but it was definitely some kind of dance party. The attire of the audience was exotically colored and decorated with floral designs. My dance partner in particular was wearing a red shirt that depicted a sunset. I barely looked at it though, for I was so close to him that the only things in my vision were his glowing eyes.

I was aware of the fact that this wasn't real, but I couldn't control it like a lucid dream. In fact, the vividness and familiarity of every sensation pressed me to believe it was a memory. The feeling of Harry's hands on my waist, the tickling sensation every time our noses brushed against each other, the warmth of his breath on my lips–It all felt too real. Still, I couldn't recall that something like this ever happened. The rational part of my mind wanted me to wake up, to end this dream before it morphed into something disastrous, but it was overpowered by my emotions which wanted to ride this blissful fabrication for all it's worth.

I was lost in his eyes, my arms propped up on either side of his neck. My mind went blank as we swayed back and forth. Now that we were so close, I never wanted to be apart again. For a moment, I saw a flash of uncertainty cross his face, but it didn't discourage me in the slightest. My perception was only filtering the good out of this instance in time. I don't know what caused such a peaceful state of mind, but I was loving it.

Suddenly, the filter switched. The crowds and the lights all vanished, and it was just me and Harry in a dark room. That overwhelming happiness was replaced but a pit of hopelessness. I felt like the world was crashing down, and all of my fears were being confirmed by wild assumptions. Harry wasn't as close, but he was still close enough that I could read the desperation in his expression.

"Uma, I..." He was trying to say something important, but he couldn't find the words. Before he could finish, I put a hand on his chest, and he turned still as ice. From behind me, a hook-wielding hand descended over top of mine. It pressed the curve into my hand and pushed forward. I was paralyzed in horror, and Harry wasn't reacting either. The hook continued to press into my hand until it forced me into shoving Harry backwards. What I didn't notice until now was the drop of stairs right behind him.

Once again, I was forced to relive Harry's dreadful plummet. I couldn't move forward to chase after him, and my voice wasn't letting me scream after him. I couldn't feel my legs again until after he hit the ground at the bottom, appearing lifeless, and I turned around to see who goaded me into the deed. I was puzzled to find no one standing behind me. I grew apprehensive at the absence of the perpetrator. There was always someone to blame. There had to be someone to blame!

On the ground, Harry's hook laid at my feet. I picked it up and slid my fingers over the edge, and I wondered who could have been the one holding it. The one who wielded the hook was the person who I would condemn for Harry's tragedy.