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Chapter 42.

          harry.

Floating, gliding, flying, weightless. . .

Am I dreaming?

There's a pressure to my stomach, something eating me up from within. I try to lift my hand to soothe the uncomfortable feeling, but my limbs won't listen.

I hear Ella call my name hysterically and I want to tell her how much I love her, that I'm right here and I won't ever leave her side.

I'm here, baby. . .

Something in my throat is cutting, sharp like glass shards. I try to clear it awkwardly and cough; a wet, hot liquid pours out from my mouth and trails down my cheek and chin.

Is this real? Am I dreaming? Why is Ella yelling? I need to help her.

"Come with me."

"You know I can't, Harry."

Her huge, blue eyes looks so sad as she says this. Why can't she come? I don't want to leave her, I never wanted to.

"I know," I say, and the pressure in my belly increases.

She says she'll miss me and I don't understand why, because I'm right here. But I promise her that I will ring everyday, and yet she cries and cries.

I want to reach my hand up and caress her cheek, wipe away her sadness. Don't cry, pretty baby. I won't leave you again.

Looking out over the sparsely crowded dance floor, my heart skips as beat as I take in her beautiful features. My girl. She sits with her legs crossed, elbows resting on the table and a sulky look on her face.

The need to comfort her is too great and I almost let myself go up to her, but then I see him. A blonde viking strolling up to her table with the drinks I just made.

Something wet is still flowing down my chin, joined by what must be actual tears. I haven't cried in years. They tickle my ears and taste salty as they reach my mouth.

I try to make a sound, I want her to know that she saved me. All I can manage is a incoherent gurgling noise, but suddenly I feel a soft hand wiping away my tears.

As I stand out back smoking, I suddenly see her coming out from the doors. The way she stands alone in the darkness, only lit up by a single lamppost, makes me forget about the promise I made to myself.

"Harry?" she asks, shock evident on her face.

I want to tell her how much I've missed her, how painful these past years have been, that she's been on my mind daily.

But I don't do that. I keep my mouth shut and study her. The long, silky hair falling around her face in soft curls, her insecure Bambi eyes, the lovely dress she's wearing, the honesty radiating from her.

This girl will be the death of me.

The world is a blur, reality is slowly slipping away from my grip. The pressure and pain is too much to handle and I need to breathe.

My heart was beating wildly before, desperately trying to pump the blood around my body. Now it's just a tiny flutter; like the beats of the wings of a small butterfly.

I try to take a deep breath, struggling to reach past the liquid blocking my throat.

I can feel my heart slow down even more. The seconds between the beats grows longer.

When I finally succeed to draw some air in, it never reaches my lungs.

Then everything goes quiet.