I thought that I had known pain.
I had been hurt, so badly, too badly throughout my life, whether it be physically, mentally, or emotionally. I had countless scars, lining every inch of my body, my heart, and my mind. Even if you couldn't see all of them--they were there, etched deep inside, revealing exactly who I was and had come to be. Each one made me who I was today, each healed wound building me into someone who had learned to live again, to love again.
I thought that I had known pain. After the sizzling bullet had cut through my skin, leaving a path of fire in it's wake, I thought that I had known pain. But I hadn't, no. I had never truly known what the definition of pain was. So many people got hurt in so many different ways, but no one had ever felt this type of pain.
The type of pain where you looked up at the person that you loved with every single fiber of your being, to see the most broken expression that there ever was or would be on their face. I could deal with any other kind of pain. I could deal with the bullet that had seared straight into my thigh. But I couldn't deal with how lost he looked, like a scared little boy.
I only barely registered the sound of tires screeching against pavement, shouting erupting around us as car doors slammed shut and then the sound of gunfire was everywhere again, splitting through my skull. I winced, my eyes squeezing shut, but almost as soon as they had, Harry's hand was on my face, tapping it gently.
"No, Alice, no, keep your eyes open." His voice sounded so broken, his tone pleading, and I couldn't help but listen to him, my eyes fluttering back open to stare up at him. He gazed back down at me, the shock and fear the most prominent emotions in his eyes.
And then, all of a sudden, anger sparked there. It started out as a dim glow, but as I watched, it grew into a horrible flame, and then into a magnificent fire. His lips set in a straight line and out of my peripheral vision I noticed his hand reaching for the gun he had held. It had been abandoned just a foot away from us when I'd fallen.
"No," I begged, wincing at the pain that had ignited through my entire body. For some reason, I felt considerably numb, but I could physically feel my heart breaking within my chest as Harry's eyes glued back to my face instantly, his hands freezing in motion. "Please don't, Harry."
His eyes darkened, his fingers balling into tight fists. "I'm going to kill whoever did this to you," he growled. "They're going to fucking pay--"
"Please," I repeated weakly, inching my hand as far forward as I possibly could. I was able to just barely touch his leg and he stared down at my fingers against his jeans. "Stay with me, please."
Harry's eyes widened as his gaze met mine, and suddenly, the true reality of the situation came crashing down on the both of us. I had been shot.Shot. It was something that I had never imagined happening to me--it seemed so entirely impossible, especially with Harry present. When I was with him, I was safe. I didn't have to worry about getting hurt. But I had brought this upon myself. I had distracted him, and as a result he had crashed the car and we had been forced out of it. If I would have just listened and waited, then we wouldn't be in this situation. But I was stubborn and stupid.
For so long I had feared losing Harry. I was constantly scared that he would leave me, whether it be by force or not. The mere idea of it made my chest hurt even more so than it already did. Never did I think that I would be the one to take myself away from Harry.
I felt tears begin to cloud my vision and I sucked in a sharp breath. I felt like my entire body was on fire, but more specifically, my heart. This couldn't be happening. No, it had to be a dream. I would wake up in a minute, cuddled with Harry on his bed. Nothing bad had happened. No.
