Last Place You Look

Chapter 29

It was August again. It had been two months since my grandma died. I'd moved out of my dissociation for the most part, but now my depression was at the wheel and was running me and my life right into the ground.

Harry was doing his best, learning as we went. I tried to be honest with him, but he looked at me like I was a three legged puppy every time I said something, so I stopped. He started asking though and I knew lying wouldn't do anything. He saw right through me.

I'd gone back to work a week after the funeral, but being there with all the pity stares was the worst part. I could handle Harry and I could handle Kira, but constantly having someone give me their condolences at the end of every conversation was getting to me.

I was trying my absolute fucking best to deal with her being gone. I genuinely was, but sometimes what I need is to just forget for a few minutes. Having a constant reminder that I'll never see one of the people that I love most in the world ever again was exhausting.

Everything was exhausting. I didn't have the energy to eat or shower. Work was hard. I'd been give a lighter work load, everything was divided up between my coworkers. They all tried to keep it from me, but I saw their workloads getting bigger as mine only got smaller. Kira took most of it. Part of me was grateful though. Getting the energy or motivation to perform basic life sustaining tasks was hard enough.

And it wasn't just the lack of motivation or energy. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to shower. I didn't want to go to work. I didn't want to write. I tried writing, but nothing that I wrote down was good enough to bother keeping as a reminder. Nothing made sense and reading it back to myself was an embarrassment. Writing for work was a whole other battle within itself. I couldn't just tear a page out of my journal every time I hated what I wrote. I had actual deadlines. And I was meeting them, but I knew what I was writing wasn't up to par. Everyone else knew it too.

And that was terrifying.

My intrusive thoughts got worse as the days passed and it was nearly impossible to push them to the back of my brain.

He's going to leave you soon.

Your family thinks you're overreacting.

No one cares about what you're going through. You might as well just give up.

The purpose of the human brain was to help the body function to keep us alive, so why didn't mine do that?

Harry's been secretive lately. He'd been talking to his mom a lot lately. I talked to her for a few minutes once when I was on my way out the door before work. She told me she was so excited to meet me, but I didn't know when the hell that would happen. She was on an entirely different continent. They were speaking every day though, which was out of the ordinary for him. They usually spoke a few times a week, alternating with Gemma, funnily enough.

But all of my questions were answered when I got home from work.

Harry was sat in the living room. He was perched on the edge of the couch with papers in front of him. He called me in before I could call out for him. He looked at me and patted the cushion next to him, asking me to sit.

I looked at the papers on the coffee table and looked back at him with confusion.

"You're going home? Harry, these tickets are for next week. Why didn't you say something?"

"Because I'm not going. We're going. I know you've only been back at work for a few weeks, but I think it might be a good thing to take an actual break and get away for a while."

"Harry, I can't just drop work and leave the country. And don't even tell me that I can wri-" He held up his hand to stop me.

"I know you can write from anywhere, I wasn't going to say that. I already talked to your boss and she agreed that it could be a good thing. You're not allowed to work while we're gone either. Your laptop stays here. This is for you. For us."