Harry’s POV

1 Month after Part 38

People say that an individual is a person that holds their own personality, their own unique qualities that make them different from the rest. But if that’s true, why do I feel otherwise? Causing constant pain isn’t really a unique quality, it’s more of an eraser, being able to just erase someone completely on the inside.

Maybe I’m an eraser. Except I’m not only erasing people, but myself included.
Jane always seemed to have a pencil handy with her. Maybe I can ask her.

I rub my eyes as I stand in front of the foggy mirror, a dark green towel secure around my waist, and the room as humid as my personality.

My eyes are red and drooping slightly as if they are trying to avoid the sight of me as well, and I quickly turn my head down to look at my naked feet.
She’s gone. You dumb ass, she’s fucking gone.

“I know.” I hear myself whisper, answering into the void. Hello void. Oh so pitiful void.
Goosebumps are beginning to spread all over my skin due to the cold water droplets dripping from the tips of my hair as well as the ones landing on my cheeks from my eyes. It’s so warm, yet I’m so cold.

My hands are gripping the marbled sink counter top tightly, my knuckles turning white and I just close my eyes to block out the sight of the drawer right under my chin. The cuts on my wrist from yesterday and the day before are still red, fresh and painful whenever long fabric touches my skin and I’m really trying my best to resist since I promised her, I promised myself and I have already broken so many things in my life that I don’t need more added to the list.

You killed her.

I shake my head again, biting my bottom lip to the point of pain as I try containing my pathetic whimpers.

First Skylar. That young little girl. All she wanted was a hello. All she wanted was someone to notice her and yo-

“I did notice her.” I state in a silent tone, hearing my own voice crack.

Fuck.

But she didn’t know that, did she? She didn’t know and she-

“Hung herself.” I finish, beginning to hold my inner voice under water, trying to drown it.

And Ted. Ted. Ted. Ted.

My breathing begins to quicken, my chest hurting and my hands trying to drown that fucking voice even more and more, but it’s fighting. It’s trying to break free and is succeeding.

Bang. That’s the sound a gun makes.

I open my eyes slightly, my chapped lips now separated as I stare at my own reflection in front of me. The dark circles hanging under my eyes are as black as my insides and my face is as pale as the moon on a good day. Except today is not a good day. And the next won’t be also and etc.

“I know what sound a fucking gun makes.” I reply, trying to make myself more superior and confident then I actually am which is most likely not going to ever happen again. Confidence is no longer in my vocabulary as well as happiness. Happiness has been substituted by her name and since she is no longer here and I have no use for it, I don’t even dare speak it.
My sub conscience laughs at me.

Ted knows too. Especially Ted si-

I cover my ears as I stare at how the foggy mirror is beginning to clear.

“I know!” I respond, trying to block out my own thoughts by sitting myself down on the floor, rocking myself like a child.

But no, it didn’t end there. That’s not enough suffering to please your satisfaction.
I just remain in place, my arms wrapped around my legs and my face now placed in my knees.

“Don’t, please.” I shutter out.

Another girl couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take your punches and throws.

“Stop. Please.” I choke out.

You killed her. We killed her. And you know who that girl is? Or shall I say was?

My face lifts itself up, staring at nothing.

“She didn’t die! She’s alive!” I yell, the voice switching sides with me and instead beginning to push my head in the water, trying to drown me.

But no Harry. She isn’t. And you know who this girl is?

“Don’t!” I demand, but he doesn’t listen. Instead he just smirks, my body beginning to shiver right underneath his gaze.

Jane.

I clench my fists as I release them from their hold, more tears beginning to fall from my eyes.

“You don’t deserve to speak her name!” I state, my voice sounding like a broken piece of glass.

No. You don’t you prick!

I shake my head a little before finally nodding and nodding quickly, my head glancing up at the drawer and my hand reaching up for it.

I flinch a little when I feel something cut one of my fingers by accident. That’s it. The only thing that is allowed to see me like this.

I bring the blade down, not even really bothering nor caring to close the drawer.
I see my reflection through it. The simple silver sharp rectangle holds so much pain, so much anguish and is more helpful than I’ll ever be. It takes away pain or at least makes a person forget about it for a bit. No happiness or joy comes from it, but relief. Relief in the fact that your mind is blank for a while. Deluding someone into thinking that maybe they can start their life all over again. As if this inanimate object can give someone re birth. But when it’s done doing it’s job, it makes the person even more sad. You just lost something else again and that really fucking sucks.

But something is better than not having anything at all and when I begin cutting into my flesh, my eyes close to savor the nothingness.

I begin criss crossing over the ones that are beginning to heal. Can’t have that. Healing brings hope to a person that if they break, they can possibly get fixed and I don’t want that. At least not for myself anyway.

My mind is white, my tears beginning to dry themselves on my skin and my tongue slides over my bottom lip. This isn’t progress, but pain is better than pain.

A sudden knock on the door causes my tired eyes to open and the blade releases from my fingertips. Red liquid beginning to leak from the new visitors on my flesh and some remained on the blade itself.

“Harry. Why the fuck have you been in the bathroom for forty five minutes?” Louis’ tired voice asks through the door, a yawn following after.

We’re in some city in London right now at a hotel and Louis and I share a room. Were sharing by force of course. He would never want to even be near me and I don’t blame him.

“Took a shower.” I reply as I begin tracing over my new engravings, some of the liquid now appearing on my fingers.

He yawns again.

“It’s three in the morning. What the fuck. This is the fifth time this week.” He responds.

I shrug to myself.

“Couldn’t sleep again.”

The atmosphere grows silent for a while and at first I even began to think that he just left back to his bed.

“Did you have another nightmare?” He questions, some concern hidden in his tone. What am I thinking? Louis would never be worried about me.

My gaze goes to the blood that is now dripping to the tiled floor and I sigh. I nod.

“Yeah.”

2 Months Later

“What the fuck is going on?!” Louis yells as he pulls me aside in our dressing room located at the back of the stage. We’re in Tokyo right now and I don’t really know how I even ended up here. The last thing I remember was singing the chorus to Rock Me and just feeling really really light headed as I looked up at one of the stage lights right above me.

“How-how-the fans! Why are we here, why-” I begin lifting myself up from the chair, but Louis quickly pushes me back down.

“Let me the fuck go! The concert isn’t done, w-”

“The concert got cancelled, people are beginning to leave now.”

I feel my eyes widen and I shake my head.

“No what the fuck! Call them back! What th-”

“You fucking fainted, you arse!” Louis yells, interrupting me. His eyes are filled with anger as he continues staring at me. His body is standing right in front of me as I remain seated in this chair, blocking me from even trying to leave.

“Fainted? No. I was fine. I was singing an-”

“Read my lips. You. Fainted.” He states, obviously annoyed.

I glance passed him, noticing how the room is empty and the door is closed shut, most likely locked.

“Stop interrupting me! And why the fuck did I faint?” I ask.

His eyes narrow for a second at my words, searching me to see as if I told a joke, but they quickly widen when he realizes that I’m serious. He looks almost amused by my obliviousness and it’s pissing me off.

“Have you seen yourself lately? You look like shit! You got fucking white as fuck and you have dark ass bags under your eyes. I don’t know, maybe it’s because you don’t ever sleep!” He screams, my anger boiling.

“I’m fine. Now call them back! Tell someone to call everyone back!” I demand as I forcefully push Louis out of the way and stroll myself towards the door.

“Why have you been like this lately bro? Is this because of-”

I stop myself midway through the room, my fist clenching at my sides.

“Don’t say her name,”

I hear him sigh.

“She’s been gone for two months. You need to get over it.” he says.

He did not just go there.

I quickly turn back around and I stomp myself over to him, not really having the energy to walk faster, much less run.

“I know you had some fucking crush on her. But you will never ever have what I had with her. So don’t you ever say that, because I will never ever get over Ja-”

I feel my eyes beginning to water and I lick my lips quickly.

“I will never get over her.” I finish, realizing that my finger is hitting his chest, emphasizing my anger and frustration.

He just stands still, his eyes now landed on my hand.

“What’s under your sleeve Harry?” He questions out of no where.
I pull my hand back to my side and I lower my long sleeve, feeling my face beginning to lose even more color. God, I must look like a ghost. But I guess that’s what hatred does to a person. Well self hatred I mean.

“My hand. What kind of idiot question is that.” I remark, hoping so badly that he didn’t notice what I think he noticed.

“Answer the fucking question!” he almost yells, his body still standing still in the same place.

My fingers begin tangling themselves in my hair and I just want to explode.

“You know what they are!” I blurt out, feeling my bottom lip beginning to quiver as I realize what I just admitted. I begin crying. Placing one hand over my face as the embarrassment begins to eat at me. I really just want to go to the bathroom right now. I really want that nothing.

“Look at me bro.”

I shake my head.

“We're not bros anymore. Not ever since I fucked up Niall and Eli, since I started drinking, since I ruined your sisters birthday, since I- Fuck. I kill everything I touch. Why do I do that?” I question, my hand now away from my face and my arms now crossed in front of my chest.
Louis begins walking and he’s not walking to the door to escape but to me, his face unreadable.

“You pity yourself too much. You need to stop that.” He comments.

I lick my lips again.

“You’re wrong. To feel pity for myself, I would have to feel.”

“You’re crying. Is that not feeling.”

My eyes narrow at his words and they just begin replaying in my mind.

“And this.”

He grabs my wrist, gripping it lightly and pushing the sleeve up, his eyes widening a little in shock. My arm is completely wrecked.

“This is fucked up Harry. This is really fucked up.”

He looks at a loss for words and I just force my hand out, hiding it behind my back to hide it from him.

“Is this all because of her? She left and you left. You need to move on from this obsessive compulsion before it leads to something worse.”

I shake my head, walking closer to him.

“You don’t understand what I did to her Louis. I-I need to punish myself, I-”

“Shut up. Okay? Just shut up! No one deserves this!”

His face is beginning to redden from frustration and I’m beginning to feel more vulnerable, even if I am taller than him.

“I do.” I mutter.

His eyes search mine and before he can even finish, I bring my hand up to my chest, pointing at myself like what a person does when they recognize the criminal and point it out to the cops. I am a criminal.

“She tried killing herself. Like Skylar. Everyone ends ups like Skylar a- I need to chain myself up before I hurt anyone else.”

His eyes seem bluer than usual and I can’t really decipher why.

“No.” He simply responds.

My eyebrows scrunch up together in confusion which he notices.

“Skylar wasn’t your fault, okay? And neither was Jane! You actually saved her from that rat trap of a life she had before! She’s even told me herself. You saved her that day Harry. You and I both know you did, and you have to realize that. You always mourn over the loss of yourself, but guess what. You never do anything to change it. You never take action. And that’s the damn problem!”

I just stand their quiet, unsure how to answer.

“All you do is pity pity pity. You never act on your sorrow. Now what you need to really be doing with yourself is asking if Jane makes you happy.”

I nod and he takes a deep breath.

“And do you want her to be happy?”

I nod again.

“More than anything.”

He nods back.

“Then be with her man. It’s that simple! She makes you better anyway. Haven’t you noticed that you haven’t had a drink in months.”

“Yeah but she deserves better.” I reply.

My face is beginning to soak up all the liquid that has fallen from my eyes and I feel a little better I guess.

His hand begins to poke my chest now.

“Then be that better man. Be what you think she deserves and stop acting like a pussy about it. Niall finally did and look! Him and Eli are now together.”

I look down at the floor, staring at my white converse. They remind me of the ones I bought her.

“I don’t know.” I whisper.

“Take my words into consideration. Think it over. And please stop-”

He points to my wrist, not wanting to say it or just not being able to. I’m not quite sure.

I shake my head a little.

“I don’t know.” I repeat.

He sighs.

“Try.”

I nod.

“I-I will. Um thanks Louis.”

He pats my shoulder.

“Call me Lou.”

2 ½ Months Later

Louis and I have been keeping all of my ‘pain’ a secret from everyone, even the guys. I conceal everything under long sleeved garments and I force a smile for the paps and for myself too. I heard that if you force a smile long enough, you can trick yourself into thinking you’re actually happy. It hasn’t been working, but I continue trying anyway.
For her.

I told Louis I would try to stop, that I would try to sleep more, but it’s just so difficult. I have nightmares of a man in some dark red cloak pushing Jane off that balcony and I always show up too late. I can never save her in time. And the thing is that one time I even appeared right before it happened. I had time and I talked to her. I begged and pleaded and even fell to my knees. It was so similar to what actually happened, but she still fell anyway. But what made that nightmare the worst at of all of them was that no guy was there to push her. She jumped willingly. She wanted the pain to end that badly. And that’s what caused me to scream and sometimes even fall off one of the hotel room beds.

I stopped cutting for a few days. About three I think, but when I searched for that damn ring, wanting to hold it and read the engraving, I couldn’t find it and realized how that was ‘the promise’ Niall gave to Katherine to hand to her. I am a humiliation. She must think of me as a fool. A damn fool and I couldn’t resist.

What if she has already found someone else? What if she hates me? I probably haven’t even came across her mind and now that she’s free, every man will want to snatch her up and will quickly since she is really fucking beautiful and just so genuine. She’s real and not like those girls that are so desperate or plastic. I mean all women are nice and pleasant in their own way, but she is just more pleasant and more nice and more Jane.
My Jane.

I shake my head quickly, the crowd cheering and roaring throughout the arena.
We’re all bowing together, my arm around Niall’s shoulder and my mind on something else.
“Gracias Peru! Good night!” Liam yells in the microphone before we all finally wave goodbye and leave backstage, the lights all going back on.
When we return, Lou and the other staff all come up to us, congratulating us on a good performance.

“Gracias? Wow Liam, someone has been working on their spanish.” Lou comments, a giant manilla envelope in her hand as well as an equally large smile spread upon her painted lips.
Liam chuckles, shrugging.

“Niall taught it to me.”

Lou just nods seeming impressed at both of the boys, receiving a humble laugh from Niall in return.

Louis’ eyes keep on going from the envelope to me, and I feel slightly uncomfortable about it, but I don’t bring it up and don’t plan on doing so.

Zayn whispers something into Louis’ ear causing Louis to just shrug and nod before they both walk off to I don’t know where and I just remain standing there, beginning to feel slightly curious about the envelops as Niall and Lou discuss about Elizabeth, Liam just smiling beside them.

“So when you going to pop the question?”

I shake my head a little as I decide to join in the conversation, or at least just pay attention so I don’t become completely introverted.

Niall’s cheeks tint in a light red color, causing me to laugh. God, he’s so fucking whipped on that girl. But I mean I can’t judge, since I’m probably just as whipped on my red head.

“I don’t know. Still haven’t even gotten the ring.” He answers, leaving my mouth to drop a little.

“Wait. You’re going to propose to Elizabeth?” I question, completely unaware of this new information.

Everyone’s eyes land on me and I feel my mouth instantly close. Did everyone know except me?

Niall shrugs.

“I don’t know. Might. I mean I know I’m going to marry her one day, so why not now?”
I just nod my head a little, feeling slightly pained. Well I mean I’m always feeling shitty, but it’s taking more of a toll on me now than before.

He’s getting married. He fought for her. He didn’t give up on her while I gave up on Jane. Maybe, maybe that would’ve been me in a few years if I told her the truth from the beginning.
Maybe one day I could’ve seen her in a white dress of some sort or maybe even just be friends with her. I just would have her, and that would be enough for me.
Well maybe not. I don’t think I would be able to handle seeing another guy hold her….kiss her.

“Harry.”

My eyes avert from the depths of my mind back to Lou and I realize how Liam and the blonde have left, just leaving me and her.

“Hmm.” I mumble, seeing how she’s holding out the envelope.

She smiles softly.

“Simon told me to give you this.”

My eyes stare at the postage stamp on the top right when I hold the envelope in my hands.

“Who-”

“It’s none of my business. I’m just the deliverer. But I think you should open it.” She whispers the last part before winking and walking off.
I just nod before sauntering myself to one of the nearby chairs, sitting myself down. Everyone’s conversing about some random thing around me, some I hear about two funny dogs in some youtube video, some about our performance, some about this restaurant in Wyoming that they say is killer that they want to try when we start our American tour, and other things that are quite irrelevant to me at the moment.

My fingers trace over the writing on the top left corner in the back.
It’s from her.

I pinch my wrist, regretting it as I feel a sharp pain from doing so.

Yeah this isn’t a dream dumb ass now fucking open it.

I quickly bring my fingers to the seal and I open it in a sloppy quick manner, noticing how there isn’t paper in this but something bulky.
The envelope drops to the floor and my eyes just remain frozen as they stare at the recognizable green book in my hold.

‘Peter and Wendy by J.M. Barrie’ it reads.

She couldn’t have. This can’t be real, I mean why would she even-
My hand opens the cover and I notice writing on the inside, handwritten writing that wasn’t there before. It’s her hand writing. I know it is, but I’m kind of afraid to read it. What if she feels bad for me and just sent this book as a goodbye from her to me. What if she never wants to see me again?

I quickly shake my head and I close the book shut. My leg shaking up and down underneath me, and my tongue gliding over my bottom lip again in a nervous antic.

Fuck it.

I open it back up and I begin reading.

‘Harry,
Merry late Christmas. What a shame I wasn’t able to give this to you in person. I hope all is well since you out of all people deserve that and I hope your family is doing well too. I’m not the letter writing type and I apologize if this seems more like a simple written worded message than anything else. But nevertheless, be safe. Please. I’m fine and I just want you to remember that.
~Love,
Jane’

I re read the message over and over again, hearing her voice recite it to me and remind me what it is to hope. Below her signed name is smudged, barely erased writing that she obviously didn’t want in the letter, but I try decoding it anyway since I cherish every word she says and thinks.

I have to read it over sometimes, not being able to make out ome letters, but after a while I feel my lips turn into a slight smile.
‘I miss your horrible knock knock jokes.’ it says, causing me to laugh a little for the first time in weeks.

I begin looking around me, feeling for a second that she was near, but I just shake my head before turning the next page and beginning to read, closing my eyes in some parts and feeling as if her head is resting on my shoulder, her voice reading along.
I will fight for you Jane.

10 Months later

We’re here. We’re finally in America and it’s strange being back in my home. I thought for a while of selling it since Niall has found a new one of his own to share with Elizabeth and I also find that balcony to be a place of absolute terror. But Niall convinced me otherwise. It’s a nice home. It’s in a quiet town and no one has even found it yet.
Right now I’m just resting on one of the couches, re reading Peter and Wendy with a bowl of soup on the small coffee table beside me.

The book looks old and is even slightly damaged since I’ve read it so many times. Some of the pages are crinkled due to either a drink spilling on it or my pathetic crying.
I’ve recovered. Not fully, but almost. There will always be a part of me missing I guess you can say and maybe one day I will find it back, but for right now I’m not in great need of it.
My wrists have now healed. Some cuts have formed into scars, but they are hidden either under my new anchor tattoo or a sleeve of one of my shirts. I don’t really mind if people notice them anymore to be honest. I’m better and I don’t need to focus on the past.

When I received that package from her, everything kind of paused for a moment before it changed and fast forward. I only cut a few more times, losing interest in it as the thought and hope of her became my new thoughts and she became the new voice in my head.
She motivated me and inspired me like nothing before. It was as if the whole time she was the hope, that uplifting power I’ve needed the whole time. But I overlooked that since I only focused on the bad instead of the good which is her.

The boys soon later found out about my ‘nothing’ marks, freaking out and going slightly insane. Niall was probably the most exaggerated, wanting me to go to the hospital, but Louis stopped him and calmed them down.

The staff began overhearing the secrets about me and the news spread like peach marmalade on toast.

Simon soon found out and even asked all of us in for a meeting with Modest there of course.
I expected to get screamed at, maybe even threatened if I did it again, but to my surprise as well as the boys, these two men in black expensive suits from Modest I’m guessing just smiled at me when I approached them.

They wanted me to go public with it, make it into a sob story so it could gain more publicity. My breath got caught in my throat and I had no words. I didn’t want anyone to know about this, that’s why I kept it hidden and as the other boys stayed seated with there words swallowed, Louis stood up pissed as hell.

He defended me, screaming at them about how they messed up Niall and ELi’s relationship with their lies and how they were going to do the same thing again.

They told him to sit down and he told them as well, but in a different way. He punched one of them square in the face and to this day I am unsure if he did that for me or for himself, but either way I was grateful and still am. They had a ‘talk’ with him after and when he left the room, his fists were clenched and his bottom lips was harshly under his teeth, wanting so badly to just scream but holding back to not embarrass himself.

When Zayn asked him what happened, he just told us how some concerts were going to be delayed and pushed to another date since he had to go to this really expensive therapist for anger management. I don’t know what they told him in there that he can’t confess to us, but I feel it had to do something with me since those two men never mentioned my wounds again.
But that still didn’t stop media of course. Our fans are very observant people and well….they found out.

I began being questioned about it in interviews, feeling uncomfortable and insecure about them at first, but as I began checking twitter and seeing how fans and even just regular people called me an inspiration for stopping and staying strong this long, I decided to finally confess.

I didn’t speak of her at all of course, but I spoke of another her. Skylar. I told the story, near tears every time and fans quickly began sending me reassurance and love. Girls and guys all over the world began starting anti bullying campaigns, anti suicide campaigns, anti depression campaigns, and just any campaign that you can think of.

I ended up meeting Skylar’s family. I had dinner with them, Gemma coming along for support and I even got to meet Skylar. Her tomb stone was tall and a nice gray marble. Flowers and One Direction merchandise were decorating the huge rock and when her mother asked if I could autograph something in her memory so they could place it on the tomb stone, I declined. This isn’t about me. My name shouldn’t be placed on top of her.

This young, amazing girl passed away and she shouldn’t just be remembered as the girl who had Harry Styles visit her grave. No. I want people to remember her for the person she was. Her parents showed me home videos and pictures, telling me stories about how funny she was and how she would always get excited about catching fireflies.

So the last night I was there, Gemma and I caught fireflies in a jar and we just left them right beside some flowers next to Skylar. That’s how she should be remembered by.
Skylar, the girl who loved fireflies and who had the most beautiful laugh ever heard by humans and even Gods.

…

She began showing up on newspapers, magazines, and just everything. Jane was everywhere and I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so wide in my life. She finally got what she wanted. And the thing is that I’m not sure if she ever contacted the art woman, if she ever showed up, but I don’t care. I think it’s actually better that she did this on her own. She succeeded and it wasn’t because ‘the’ Harry Styles recommended her and got her noticed, but because she is truly talented.

Her artwork is magnificent. Even as equally magnificent as the artist and seeing her being happy and smiling in the interviews is one of the main reasons and causes for my recovery. She inspired people with her story and still does and I’m just so elated that people actually saw what I’ve been seeing this whole time. Her greatness.

Of course I’ve felt down a few times when she would get questioned about her love life. She would never deny that she had feelings for someone. She’s in love with someone. I can see the way her eyes light up when she would blush and nod at the questions about this mysterious man.

I noticed how she even has this silver chain necklace around her neck that she never seems to take off, it’s always hidden in her shirt and I feel that whoever this guy is, that’s his promise ring to her. At least she’s happy and that’s all that matters.

I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, but just the thought of that, off looking into her light brown eyes gives me drive, no. Is my drive to keep moving on, to keep breathing and I will always be grateful for that.

As I skim over the last words of chapter five, I feel my head turn as I hear a knocking at the door.

I groan a little in pain since my head still hurts a little. My headache has lasted a few days and it’s been quite uncomfortable for me. I even had to miss my charity event because of this damn thing.

I just really hope it goes away before Louis’ friend shows up. He told me that he has someone he wants to introduce me to and I think it might be one of his childhood friends like Stan. Stan was a pretty decent lad so I think this new guy will be kind of nice.
The knocking continues and I quicken my pace.

“Coming!” I yell before my hand finally reaches the knob and I begin unlocking everything.
I wonder who it i-

I feel my lips part and my eyes widen as I see my dream come to life.

“Jane.” I hear myself whisper, still in disbelief.

She gives me a soft smile, one that is leaving me to want to fucking explode.
No. This can’t be real. I thought I was never supposed to see her again, I mean like Niall said, to even run into her again would be sheer luck. But the thing is that she’s here standing infront of me.

I rub my eyes, hoping that this isn’t a hallucination.

“Hi.” She responds, my hand shaking as it continues gripping the door.

My eyes glance over her bag and I notice how she has a bunch of art supplies within them. What?

“Do you happen to have a pencil?” I question, my gaze still upon her bag.

She doesn’t look taken back at all and actually begins rummaging through it, pulling out seven.

She chuckles.

“Yeah. Actually I have like seven.”

I just nod.

The eraser finally has his pencil back.

Notes