#64- You Passed

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A/N- Lil bit spoilery but I know that the person featured in this chapter would never act the way I have portrayed. For their/the stories' sake, forget everything you know about them and create a whole new person in your head. This chapter is a lil bit longer than usual to say thank you for 76k reads!! You guys are incredible ❤️❤️

//'Do we go through?' JJ asked.

'Let's find out.' Harry said, stepping forward through the barrier. He disappeared instantly.//

Harry's POV

The tingling sensation in my hand intensified as I walked through the doorway, more and more, spreading until my whole body was buzzing with electrical energy. White light flooded my vision and a loud ringing tone filled my eardrums. When I stepped forward I expected to meet solid ground, so, when my foot hit nothing but air, I definitely did not scream at the top of my lungs, no matter what the other guys tell you. Instead of the flat ground I was expecting, I was yanked up into the air by some invisible force, sent tumbling up through white nothingness for what felt like hours but could only have been a couple of seconds. When I finally came to a stop, I fell to my knees in dizziness, almost falling over completely. After the nausea had passed, I looked up, squinting against the bright blinding light of my surroundings. Heaven. A bit boring, to be honest. It was just like the white plain where we had first met Michael- nothing but flatness all around, and... a person. In the distance, just a silhouette, but a person. I ran towards them and, faster than I thought possible, I was there in front of them. In front of her. My mother stood ahead of me, the same scraped-back dark hair, the same starched clothes, the same disappointed frown. What had I done to deserve this?

'Harold, what do you think you're doing?' She said sternly. 'Running around like some kind of demented toddler. Couldn't you just stay put?'

'What?' I said, my voice thick with emotion.

'Michael told me all about you.' She said, tutting as she walked forward and straightened the lapels of my jacket. 'Said you were doing him a favour by bringing him something or other, and that I was to be here to greet you. If you ask me, I think it's foolish, all this White vs Red business. If you could have just stayed alive...' She trailed off, staring down at my small frame. 'My dear you've put on weight. And you were doing so well...' She said, tutting disapprovingly yet again.

'Mum, I-'

'You know, I told you to watch what you were eating: carbs are bad for you, young man! My, your classmates must think I raised a pig-'

'Mum, I'm dead. I died and came here, and you're here too which must mean... you're dead, too.' I concluded. I expected to be sad, or happy, to feel something. Instead, the cold, empty feeling inside me only grew.

'Don't be so silly, boy. Of course I'm not dead. Unlike some people, I'm capable of survival.' She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly. 'Besides, Michael assured me this was just a temporary visit.'

'But, why?' I asked in bewilderment.

'He didn't say. Guess each of you have to face the person you love the most.'

'No.' I said quietly, stepping back, away from her judgemental glare. Of course, there was no escaping it. 'No, it's not that.'

'Harold!' She scolded in a disapproving tone. I flinched back as she raised her hand, but she seemed to remember herself in time to stop before she hit me. 'Don't you love your mother?' She asked, more of an accusation than a question.

'It's not that I... um...' I stuttered. Well, I was already dead, what more could she do to me? 'I may love you, but that doesn't mean I have to like you.'

'What?!' She shrieked. This time she didn't raise her hand, but her glare was enough for me to shrink back in on myself out of pure fear. 'I fed you, I put a roof over your head, I raised you, how dare you be so disrespectful?!'

'I can't love you, mum, you're the reason I'm here!' I blurted. 'You're... you're the reason I'm dead.' I continued, tear tracts streaking down my face.

'How? My dear boy, there is no one on this earth to blame but yourself. If you weren't so weak, if you could just be normal for once in your damn life... How can I be to blame?'

'This. The constant abuse, the snide comments, the snatching food off of my plate, saying I'd had enough, the insults, all of it. You caused this. You caused my anorexia. Every day, calling me fat, saying the girls will never like me if I look like this -I'm gay, anyway, so that never made much difference to me-, you wouldn't even let me eat so much as an apple without some fucking comment about my weight! I know you saw when I didn't eat for days, no, weeks at a time, but you only saw, you hadn't noticed, hadn't cared. You killed me.'

'Harry, I am your mother. You should never speak so rudely to me. You've let me down.' She responded, anger lacing her tone.

'That's the worst part.' I said, my voice quiet and broken. 'That's the worst part- I still care about letting you down, about how you feel, about how I could have been better. I feel guilty about letting you down, and I hate you for it.' I looked up slowly, my vision blurred with tears. Instead of my mother, the person ahead of me was Michael, still dressed immaculately in his 3-piece white suit and tie, the white rose in his lapel accompanied with million-dollar grin. Prick.

'Congratulations, Harry. You passed.'

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