35. Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

Ali

Wheeling my suitcase into my apartment, the usual feelings of being home don’t hit me. It feels empty, quiet, lonely and hollow, like the feeling that resides in the pit of my stomach and it’s been there since I left London, since I left him.

I hated how I left; the note was a coward’s way out. But I knew if I had to say goodbye, I would never leave. That he would find a way to make me stay. Last night scared me, it’s hit me how far I’ve fallen, how far he’s worked his way in to my heart. I need time and space to really think. He is everything I have never allowed myself to want or need. I’ve never needed anyone and somehow, he’s made me not only want him, but need him. So, I did what feels familiar, what feels safe. I ran, put my walls up, and focused on myself.

I couldn't sleep on the plane. I kept playing all the moments from London and Paris, the sight-seeing, the afternoon tea, dancing like no one was watching and finally opening up to him and letting him see all of me. I told myself this was just a casual thing, but I should have known the minute I agreed to the trip that it would never end with us still being casual. I should have foreseen that I would leave as one person and come back home as another. I fill up the kettle and place it on the stove, taking out my favorite mug and teabags. I wore Harry's sweater on the flight home and every so often I pull the collar up to my nose, his spicy scent still lingering. I reach for the necklace he gave me and fiddle with the heart pendant, knowing I should take it off now I’m home, but I can't bring myself to do it. I miss him. The guilt of how I left still eating me up I think about texting him, to say sorry.

The kettle begins to boil, the sound of bubbling water fills my apartment. I notice a stack of mail on the kitchen island. With a pink Post It note on top.

Welcome home, babe. I missed you. See you tonight. Love you, G x

I smile. I’ve missed her and Ria so much. Since we all met when we were teens, I have never gone this long without them. Maybe that’s what I need to ground and center me. Them, maybe I could tell the truth, get them to help me make sense of what I’m feeling.

I flick through the letters, bills, my magazine subscription, but one has me stopping in my tracks. An all too familiar stamp in the corner of the envelope has me dropping all the other mail.

I clutch the letter with white-knuckle force, my hands trembling as I slowly tear the envelope open.

Dear Miss Hart,

We are writing to inform you that Peter Andrews is being considered for parole. You are invited to…

I can't finish. Bile rises in my throat, and I drop the letter to the floor as if acid had seeped into my skin.

My stomach lurches and I rush to the sink, emptying the contents into it. My body heaves and shakes as I clutch the edge of the counter before lowering myself to the ground, my legs no longer able to hold me up.

I pick up the letter and read the opening lines again.

They want to let him out.

My head spins, vision blurring, and suddenly my body feels like it is cloaked in an iron blanket.

I tug the sweater over my head and throw it across the room, scratching at my chest and neck. My body stinging like a thousand bees have stung me all at once. But no matter how much I scratch, the sting never leaves. My fingers get caught in the necklace Harry gave me and tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. I manage to get myself on my knees and crawl to my purse, hands shaking, every limb trembling as I pull my phone free. Unlocking the screen, I notice an unread message from Harry. I click on it, a sob escaping as I read his words.

Harry

You really just let without saying goodbye, like our time meant nothing. How could you?

He hates me, I’ve hurt him. How could I just leave? My mother was right. I am poison; I ruin everything, and I bring all this pain upon myself. I could have told him how I felt, but I didn’t. I could have denied it all, told them they were wrong all those years ago, but I didn’t. This is all my fault. What did I expect when I act the way I do? If you play with fire, you are going to get burned.

The kettle begins to whistle but I take no notice; I need to get out of here. I need the memory of Peter off me. I scramble to my feet and run to the bathroom. I step into the shower, not caring that I’m still fully clothed, hitting the on button and gasping as jets of cold water hit me. I sink to the shower floor, my back sliding down the cold white tiles. I cradle my legs, rocking back and forth as the water beats down on me, heating up gradually to the point of boiling. Washing away the parts that burn the most.

I can’t do this. I can't do this again.

I continue to tremble like a frightened puppy under the flowing water and all I want to do is call Harry, tell him I’m sorry. Beg him to come and hold me and take away this pain, because the only time I have ever felt truly safe, and my demons backed away was when I was in his arms. But I ruined it, like always. He won’t ever want me now, especially if he knew. He can never know. He can’t know how dark I truly am because if he does, I don't think he would look at me in the same way and that would hurt far greater than the searing burn that’s coursing through me right now. I’d rather him hate me for hurting him than be disgusted by my past.

I need to let Harry go. I need to cut ties before I destroy him, because everything I touch gets destroyed, and though I pretend to hate him, it's far from what I feel. I can’t rely on him to hold me up, to catch me when I fall. I’ve been falling my whole life and doing it alone. I refuse to drag him down into my darkness. Some of us are just born with darkness inside of us. We aren't meant to experience the light or what it feels like to fly.

But I did. I got a taste of what it felt like to live in the light, to feel like I was flying, and god, was it the greatest feeling in the world, but like any good thing, it has to come to an end. He may hate me for what I’m about to do, but I’d rather have him hate me than drag him down with me because he deserves to fly.

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