Reluctance >> h.s

Prologue

*PRESENT TIME*

~HARRYS POV~

Heartbroken.

Thats a good way to describe the way I feel right now.

Pure, raw, utterly torturous pain. My heart feels like it's on fire, slowly burning, being slow roasted for her. I can feel my chest slowly tearing in two, opening up so she can get a glimpse of my heart before it is consumed. Who needs a heart anyway? I try think about anything else, anyone else, but all I can think of is her. She told me to stay away, that our lives just don't mix, that I just wont work in the end. Did I listen? Of course not. I stayed. I persisted. I persuaded her, to make her fall in love with me. The way I fell in love with her.

Obviously that just wasn't good enough.

I sit here, in my car, gripping the steering wheel so tight it might just fall of. I close my eyes hoping to block out the pain, to block out the tears, to block out her. Her angelic voice and graceful laugh continue to haunt me, the voices sounding so real, like shes sitting right there. I think back to the way we touched, the way we kissed. Fuck, even the way she let me make love to her. The way I looked after her like no one else ever had. I worked so hard to be different to her boyfriend, I treated her with utter love and respect. Did it mean anything? Was it all a lie? If what we had was real, how could she be fine?

I let out and annoyed, disbelieving scoff as tears escape my eyes. What did I do to deserve this? I did all this to help someone in desperate need of something good, and I get repaid with a broken heart. If it wasn't for that prick of a boyfriend she has, maybe we would have had a shot. Just maybe, she could be mine. And no one else's. In the land of gods and monsters, she is an angel, living in the garden of evil. Surrounded by darkness, no way to escape. Well, it is kind of hard to escape something that you think you deserve. She doesn't. Fuck, she really does not belong in that bloody garden.

But its too late now. I was very naive to think I could change her ways. She'll never change. As much as she hates to admit it, shes attracted to the dangerous life her boyfriend drags her into. The disgusting, illegal, fucking explicit life he leads. It scares me to think of how many times he's touched her, how many times he's fucked her. How many times he's raped her. She denied it, but I know for a fact that its true. She thinks its okay, that its normal. That she deserves it.
I let out another disbelieving scoff. It all leads back to her self esteem, doesn't it? Her insecurities, her belief that everything bad that happens to her is right, got in the way of a real shot at living a good, safe life. I was that shot. And she wasted it, thinking that good things shouldn't be wasted on herself.

And now here I am, all alone, with a sever case of a broken heart.

Disappointment washes through me; disappointment more in myself than her. I did this to myself, I dug myself a hole that I cant get out of without her. She was my strength, she was meant to help me climb out the top. But shes not here. And she never will be.

I glance at the almost deserted car park out my car window, to where it all began. The thundering storm and pitch black night making it almost impossible to see, but I know its there. I know shes there, too. That old, rusty, blue motherf*cking truck sits there alone, in the pouring rain. Ive been watching the dark silhouettes seen among the icy windows for what seems like hours, a shadow of a raising hand constantly pressing against the cool glass. Painted nails scratching the condensation off, slowly, sensually, sexually.

The sight makes me sick to the stomach, and angry tears well up in my eyes. The knowledge of the actions taking place in that car is absolutely heart wrenching. I let out a loud sob, before raising my fist and slamming it onto the dashboard of my car in anger. I cry, and cry, and cry for god knows how long. Like a baby. I bring my hand to my hair and pull, tug, do anything I can to try take away the emotional pain I feel. The pure, raw, utterly torturous pain.

And I ask myself, why do you sit here watching her have sex with her boyfriend? Why do you sit here and torture yourself with the knowledge that she has left you behind and moved on? The answer is plain and simple; I don't know. Just like I don't know why I fell in love with her, why I tried to fix her, why I tried to change her. I just don't know.

With one last longingly painful glance at the truck, I slowly turn on the ignition, and drive as far away from that abandoned fucking car park as possible.