When?

8. "I wasn't in love with Harry."

Judith

Life was so dull without him, so tasteless, so worthless. Most days, I didn’t feel like leaving my bed, seeking an escape from the world that was caving in on me, without him being here to keep it all away. Other days, I went out with Todd, because drinking numbed up the pain, even if only for the night. It silenced my loud mind, and fogged my unwanted memories. I drank till I passed out and woke up on the floor, drowning in my own puke, and he wasn’t there. That was when it would all dawn on me. He was no longer there. The realization would crush me, as if we were back to that night again, when I could no longer take hearing his voice, when I put him to rest. He didn’t need to pretend any longer. He didn’t feel anything for me, and he probably never would. I didn’t know why I was ever so deluded, to think that he maybe, just maybe, Harry was the one person who’d look past the tattoos, the drinking, the badass figure, and see the real me. The me I had been hiding all my life. The me I trusted myself to show  him, and that was when he tore me to shreds.

I was never the one to trust, never gave a shit about anyone, not even myself, but I was different when with Harry. He, he pushed through each and every single one of my walls, he never gave up. He was always there, with his nerdy jokes, his books, his movies, his quotes about life. His mere existence was enough for me. I bared my soul to him, I let him in, and I thought it’d be enough. I thought I would be enough. But I never am, and I never will be. To be fair, Harry did deserve better. He deserved someone who was whole, someone he could love and cherish and bare himself to, someone who wasn’t as selfish as I was, using him to make me feel better about myself, someone who would be deserving of all the endless love he had to offer, someone who would love him the way I’d never be able to. I prayed on Harry’s love, absorbing it all to feel something that I could only feel with him, until his love ran out. When I needed it most, he had nothing left to offer.

His mum called me, she clearly didn’t know anything. Anne and I talked at least once a month, checking on one another, making sure Harry was on the right track and wasn’t completely shutting himself down. Anne was a motherly form that I had never known, so not only had I lost Harry, I lost Anne as well. I probably lost Louis too. He was a good friend, always had been when I needed it most. He cared about Harry and therefore he cared about me, because for as long as I could remember, Harry and I were a package. Well, not anymore. I just hoped that Louis would be there with Harry now, hopefully stopping him from running from his own mind, because as silent as Harry was, his mind was always loud enough to deafen him. And I didn’t want Harry to drive himself mad, because I was the fractured part of our friendship, and he couldn’t possibly be fucked up too. I wouldn’t bear living with the idea of this changing him. I loved Harry the way he was, my Harry.

My Harry?

Since when had Harry been mine? He had never been mine, and I was never his. As much as I’d hate to admit it, Harry was more of a distraction than anything. Yes, he was my best friend. Yes, I couldn’t picture my life without him, but that was because without him, I probably would have ended it all ages ago, whether intentionally or not, I would have been a goner. Was I using Harry all those years? Could I possibly be that selfish, that blind? What was Harry to me? Was he a let out? An escape? A confiner? Or was he a mere source of distraction from life, from my own thoughts, from my own dark being?

 Fuck.

If so, then why did my heart feel unwholesome? Why did I feel that void in my chest? Why was there a consistent ache that I couldn’t seem to rid myself of? Why could I not sleep anymore? Was I in love with Harry?

No.

I couldn’t possibly be in love with Harry, and his genuine smile that I was sure could heal fucking cancer, and his curly hair that I used to love running my fingers through, and his dimples that only showed when I cursed because he’d smile shyly, and his laughter that was fucking music to my ears, and his voice that could make me feel better about life no matter how husky or choked or deep.

No.

I wasn’t in love with Harry.

Absolutely not.

I am going fucking nuts.

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A/N: Here it is, Judith's POV, tell me what you think, and I'll dedicate the next chapter to you! :)