My room felt strangely empty without Zayn in it, even if he had only been there once. The silence around me felt different from the silence when I was with him: this one was almost suffocating, begging to be disturbed.
How could two days feel like a lifetime?
Maybe because I haven’t had this much happen in my entire life and suddenly everything was happening at the same time within the span of a few days. I had trouble processing it all, my mind wasn’t in the right place. The funeral would be in the morning and I would finally have to say goodbye to my friends, something I had tried not to think about. The sharp sting of their loss would catch me at random moments, when I would long for the old days, times without worry. When I could still look up at the moon and stars and wonder what they would look like up close, how they would smell and feel.
That had been replaced by fear. Fear of the dark and what lies in its shadows.
Fear of losing Zayn.
Maybe as soon as I spotted the first potential friend, I latched onto them, unknowing what would happen. Or because he seemed broken, like me, in a way. He understood.
We had come up with a plan, or something like that. In two days, we were going to a crossroads and summoning the demon. And try not to get killed in the process. It sounded like a plan. To say I was terrified would be an understatement. On top of that I felt extremely guilty for doing all this behind my father’s back. What would happen if one day he found out?
What would happen if I died? I hadn’t really thought about that. But if I did, I wouldn’t really mind. Survivor’s guilt, maybe? A different part of me, the more cowardly part, would see it as a way out of this world, so I wouldn’t have to face whatever might be coming.
But I had to stick around for my dad, for Zayn, for a better future. Although lying in my bed I couldn’t help but feel a better future wouldn’t include Zayn, and that terrified me.
***
I was hoping it wouldn’t become a habit to lose track of time like this: waking up from your alarm clock one moment and getting in a car the next. Things were speeding up, and I didn’t like it one bit.
My father felt it was necessary to drive me, in his police car, to the funeral. I felt like a kid all over again, when he used to take me to school in his car before going to work. Things have changed so much now, but his car remains the same. There was still the old coffee stain from when my dad had to break really hard for an elderly woman. He didn’t even see her, was too busy telling me off for doing something. Couldn’t remember what for, now.
‘’You alright, son?’’ His voice sounded almost distant, as if I was on the other end of a tunnel. The words took a while to register but finally I was able to nod. A simple gesture, but it was enough.
‘’You know I could always take the day off, right? You don-‘’
‘’It’s ok, dad. I’ll be fine,’’ I interrupted him. We had arrived at the funeral home, a few other cars were already parked outside. When I got out of the car I caught the faint scent of flowers, which sent my mind back to the meadow, and Zayn. Even thinking about him in my father’s presence made my stomach flip, my teeth catching my bottom lip.
I suddenly didn’t want to go inside, didn’t want to face the fact that it really happened. The urge to scream took over, my feet digging into the gravel. I wanted to go back, back to the good days. I just needed normalcy, not this. This was a nightmare, I was stuck in a nightmare.
‘’Harry, just breathe.’’ My father shook my shoulders, giving me a worried look. It hurt to breathe, everything hurt. I couldn’t turn off my mind: I was seeing red. Red eyes, red blood. Red. Death. So much death. It wasn’t going to stop. Unless I did something. And I was doing something. I had to be strong.
‘’I’m sorry.’’ My voice was cracked slightly, but my father didn’t care, just pulled me into a tight hug. A warm breeze caressed my face, and in his arms, I felt safe. I wanted to hold on forever, but holding on hurts. Standing next to the funeral home made it even more evident: there would be a time when all of us had to go. Ever since my mother passed I had been afraid of loss. It felt like my whole world had been blown apart and I was left to gather the broken pieces and try to fit them together. But it hurt, as if the sharp edges kept cutting into me, opening new wounds.
‘’Let’s go inside, son,’’ my father said softly, pushing away from me so he could give me a reassuring smile. The gravel crunched under our feet as we walked toward the entrance and we were welcomed by crisp air and quiet chatter once we made it inside. A few heads turned, their eyes lingering on me a moment longer before focusing on something else. I followed my father through the small crowd and joined him in offering condolences to the families.
I couldn’t help but feel guilty for standing there while there were three caskets in the other room. Three people with incredible potential. Three people that were going to be missed. Three too many. I felt so out of place in this calm environment: the creamy white walls, the peaceful harp music in the background.
My father and I moved on to the next room where the three caskets were situated – lids closed. The middle one was covered in white peonies, Emma’s favourite flowers. A stuttering breath left me as I looked at them, tears stinging in my eyes. There was the heavy and warm feeling of a hand placed on my shoulder and the familiar deep cough of my father.
It felt weird. I just didn’t know what to do. The photographs of my smiling friends surrounding the caskets were confusing, upsetting. There was the uncontrollable urge to scream and cry, thrash everything around me. Make everyone understand that those smiles – the memory of those happy moments – were tainted by their deaths. The memory of their carefree laughter was replaced by the echoing screams and the deafening silence after that.
Even if that was the last thing I would remember of them, I hoped they were at peace. The closed caskets may hide the truth of their conditions, but they gave me the opportunity to imagine them sleeping peacefully. And I envied them for that. In that moment, I wanted to join them. I wanted to be oblivious to everything going on, to not feel this darkness weighing down on my shoulders.
‘’Harry, it’s time,’’ my father announced. I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat. My feet carried me forward towards James, my fingers touching his casket briefly before mumbling a soft goodbye. I lingered at Emma’s, fingertips brushing against the flowers, taking in their sweet scent. Sweet, just like her. And finally, George.
‘’I’ll miss you guys,’’ I muttered, voice cracking near the end.
My father guided me out of the room - away from my joy, my rock, and my brother.
May angels lead you in
Hear you me my friends
On sleepless roads, the sleepless go
May angels lead you in
Jimmy Eat World - Hear You Me
Sorry about the sad chapter! I also wanted to include the lyrics above, which would explain the chapter title. Thank you so much for all the reads, votes and comments! I love you all!
Next update's on Saturday! xxx <3
