Shattered

"How are you today, Rebecca?" Liam asked me.
I shrugged.
'My only friend left me' I wanted to say.
I did not say that, however. I could not bring myself to react or speak much. I just wanted to sit and process.
I had changed from the clothes given to me prior and into my own clothes.
I wore a knitted flannel jumper and a pair of loose Levi's from the 80s- tight at the waist band and hip yet loose at the ankles. The flannel was my dad's, the jeans were my mum's. I loved each article of clothing.
I took them from their bedroom before they took me away. I never could bring myself to really look into my suitcase. Nor could I actually bring myself to wear their clothes. It hurt too much. Both articles of clothing sat in my suitcase for the past six months.
I just couldn't figure out what it was that had brought me to actually wear them this particular day. What made this day so special? There was not anything significant about it.
I also kept a journal. I started it about several years prior to their deaths. And now every time I think about that wretched journal, I shudder. There were so many hateful remarks and curses towards my parents. Please, do not get me wrong, I loved them, but at the time I either did not get what I wanted or we had a dispute. I was a hateful girl who was spoiled rotten. I didn't know they were going to die. I do not think that anyone else did, either. I wish I did. There are so many things I would want to fix, to say to them, to convey.
I never wore makeup- despite my mum's persistant nagging. I, first of all, didn't have the money to pay for it, and I just never felt the need to put on another mask. Isn't that what makeup is anyway- a mask? I haven't even gotten a haircut since year eight. So dressed in my loose paint stained jeans, baggy flannel, my hair tied up in a sloppy French twist, I, more than likely, looked like a wreck. That and I was exhausted.
"I'm fine," I replied.
We had eggs again this morning. Just like this past week. I looked towards the cupboards and the refrigerator.
"Liam, could you possibly go shopping? Like groceries?" I asked.
Liam scratched the back of his head and thought for a moment. And to my surprise, he said, "Probably."
My jaw dropped. "I thought this was like a prison or something!" I exclaimed.
"This is not a prison, Rebecca," he laughed.
"Sure feels like one," I muttered.
"No kidding," Liam snorted. "So on Tuesday we're checking in with Schuller.. How does that make you feel?"
I shrugged. "Why does it matter?"
Liam lowers his head and and rubs his eyes. He thought for a while, his his lips moving every now and then- forming words as though he was trying to get them right.
"You do want to stay, right?"
I looked at Liam, really looked at him. He was sad too.
His eyes were probably chocolate brown at one point; the deep, rich kind that just warm you up and make you feel all cozy and safe. However, now they were a murky, grey brown. Nothing pretty or nice to look at anymore. They were dull and hollow.
Staring into Liam's eyes were like staring into a barren desert. No pretty flowers, no nourished soil. It was just desolate and empty and dead. The earth was cracked and its dirt crumbled in your palm. He also had bags under his eyes that were a pink-ish purple. He looked exhausted.
** ** ** **H ** ** ** ** **
"Okay Harry, up!"
Liam bursted into my room as if he owned the place. It was quite annoying, actually. I was just beginning to fall back to sleep.
"Go away, Liam," I groaned as I turned over. I buried myself deeper under my sheet and let out a sigh. I hated when he did this.
"Sorry mate, but you're not pulling this shit today. We're going out." Liam yanked my blankets off.
This time, though, I wore jogger pants and a t-shirt.
"So get ready, and come down stairs, we leave in about an hour."
"Take Niall or something," I said.
Liam laughed. "He's already coming. We're going grocery shopping for Rebecca and you're coming with."
"Why the bloody hell do I have to go? You know what she likes, you know what I like as well as the rest of you guys. Why do I need to me there just to trail behind you and the trolley?"
"So you can learn to stop feeling sorry for yourself," Liam said to me.
With that, he turned on his heel and marched out, not even bothering to close the door behind him. So now I'd have to get up. Because I liked my door closed. I liked being cut off from the rest of them. And it was not because I felt sorry for myself; I don't. I just needed time. That was all I wanted. I just wanted time to think.
I didn't end up going. They were not going to make me, and I knew that a part of them knew it as well. It was more of an empty threat- a desperate attempt. There was not much that they could do about me. In the end, they had a choice to leave. I did not. So I didn't understand why they were always trying to get me to.
I didn't even know what they were trying to do, if I were to be completely honest.
Liam let Ryker out into the yard before he left, so I didn't have to go down stairs. And once the door was closed, I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness. When I finally came downstairs, to go into the study to find a book, I stumbled upon something I did not expect...
** ** ** **R ** ** ** **
"Okay Rebecca, we're off," Niall said as he and Liam made their way to the front door. I nodded slowly. Liam looked at me kindly and nodded.
"Will you be okay here?" Liam asked me. I shrugged.
What was going to happen? I now lived at the end of fifth avenue, there was literally no one else within a five kilometer radius.
I could tell that Liam was a bit unsure, but decided to leave. Niall gave me a curt nod and they left.
I turned back to the entry hall and made my way back to the kitchen. I figured maybe this sickening feeling was just hunger. I found a box of biscuits. I sat myself down at the table and began to slowly munch on the snack.
That day, and I couldn't figure out why- I mean, I knew that they were dead- and I thought that I had already processed it, but it all began to sink in. It all slowly started to settle itself into me. I was not home, this was my new home now.
I was not going home, this was no prolonged vacation, this was no dream. It was very much real. Mum and Dad were dead. Before I had this realization, I was angry. But now that I actually thought about it, I grew sad. But I had no tears about the subject. I felt blue.
It really hurt, but I was never good at conveying how I felt. But blue is a good word.
I wish daddy could call me his princess on last time although I hated that nickname, and I wish that I could sit and paint with mummy one last time and just hear her voice as she hummed and I wish I could sleep in my own bed and I wish I could argue that same old petty sibling argument with Wyatt and I wish...
I just wanted to be okay.
That was all I wanted.
I.
Just.
Want.
To.
Be.
Okay.
I did need to be great or fine or even good. I just wanted to scream at something and scream and scream and rant and then scream some more- tell the world that I hurt and that I'm fucking broken and it all was just crashing down. . .
I wanted to black out and rage and sob and throw something and mourn.
"I want to be okay! I just want to be okay!" I sobbed aloud.
I did not even realize it at first but I was crying, sobbing, breaking down at the kitchen table. I fell from the chair onto the floor and curled up.
"I just don't want to hurt. I don't need to be fine, I want to be okay. I just want to stop hurting!"
Then something happened. I felt a pair of arms around me. I was startled. At first I thought it was Louis, maybe he had come back. So I curled into them and wept and poured my heart out into their chest like a child.
"Shhh," they lulled. "Shhh."
I clutched their shirt with one hand, the other hand had a fist full of hair. I just crumbled. Broke. Shattered. Which was something not too hard to do anymore.
When I finally did look up, I shoved him away and drew back. This was not Louis. This was someone entirely different...
This was Harry.
He jumped away immediately, but it was too late. The damage had already been done. I finally got a good look at his face:
Long, unruly brown hair that hung over the left shoulder and clung in clumps around a chiseled jaw. Half of his face looked like it was shredded, underneath his left eye it looked bruised and the scar tissue had split as it healed, leaving permanent crevices and oddly strewn out lines.
Part of the top of his ear was missing- like it has been cut off. A black-purple scar that covered nearly half of his face heavily contrasted his pale complexion, and the shadows of this house made other features difficult to distinguish.
None of that, though, was anything compared to his eyes. They were lemon shaped, jade eyes heavily draped with long lashes that curled to rest delicately on his cheek. There was nothing delicate about this man.
They were ugly, his eyes. They could see straight through me, violating my most inner thoughts. Colder than ice, hateful, filled with regret and misery, blacker than midnight; hardened, cruel, unreadable. Yet the were sad, and empty. Just lonely and hurt.
He had the face of a devil's angel: one that cleverly hid behind the look of innocence and beauty; it was the kind of face that did exactly what it threatened to.
I was repulsed, however, I did not turn to run. I did not try to hide. I stayed put on the floor, about a meter from the fallen angel.
Then...
Then I did something I couldn't quite explain.
I scooted over to him again. Harry did not move. He seemed to be as fear-stricken as I was. I reached my hand out, cautiously, and before I knew it, my hand made contact with his skin.
The scar on his face was abrasive to the touch. I began to trace all of the lines and bumps and contours of his face. My hand grazed over his cheek bone, up and around his temple, across his forehead, and down the bridge of his nose and around again.
His eyes fluttered shut, and eventually, so did mine. I just got lost in this moment- whatever kind of moment this was.
"You're going to be okay," I heard him whisper.
I nodded, although I did not think he saw me do so. There was just something about him, and I couldn't quite figure out what it was, but a part of him mirrored me. We were one and the same. Two birds taken out by the same stone.
"You're going to be okay too," I whispered back.
I felt his hand as it suddenly wrapped itself around mine and he brought it down to my lap. He didn't let go. And just as I felt his body shift and my body lean in, the front door unlocked.
We hear laughing and Ryker start to whine as Liam shouted at Niall. "Oh shit," said Harry. Before I knew what was happening Harry picked us both up and pulled us to the wall just as the other two were walking past to the kitchen. I looked to Harry, with his hand still over my mouth, and he gestured with his head over towards the study. Just as Liam was waking into the kitchen with two paper bags in each arm, we slipped around the wall and into the entry corridor, and into the study.
I do not really know how to say it or even describe it. We both knew that this was wrong, maybe he moreso than I, however, we both got that sudden rush of adrenaline that made it all exciting. It was like a game of Cop and Robber. Or when you play a big game of sardines. Your heart begins to beat faster and you can not help but giggle because it is so nerve wracking yet at the same time exuberating. It was all a rush. I knew when I looked into that boy's jade eyes, we both had found our new drug to help us cope with life. It was an illegal and lethal drug, but the high was all worth the risk. It was intoxicating in the best way.
"Rebecca?" I heard Liam call. I turned to Harry. He gave me a nod and I gave him a soft smile. I slipped out the door of the study.
As I go out to the kitchen, I notice Ryker scratching at the back door. I let him in and continued into the kitchen. Liam and Niall had bags grocieries in their arms and they were spreading them out on the counter. Liam shuffled past me and out the front door out to the car, shouting at Niall that there were more still in the back seat.
"Well if Tommo were fucking here it'd be e'ser now wouldn't it?" Niall shouts after him as he jogs past me. There were both outside now, bickering with one another. The boys sounded like brothers, petty little sibling agruements about nothing and were typically humoursous to somone on the outside listening in.
I chuckled and turned to their little huel of grocieries. It was overwhelming, but nice to see. What made it even better, is as they were carrying the last of the bags, I noticed an all too familiar gold package. They got Haribo Gummy Bears!
Liam set down his load and began shuffling around in the kitchen. I didn't really think about it, I snatched the golden package and plopped myself down on the counter. I tore open the package and popped a couple of the sweet gummies in my mouth. I could not have been happier. I could feel a smile grow on my face until I popped a yellow one in, my face scrunched up then. Liam turned around and reached into the paper bags and began searching around in it.
"Niall, where'd the gummie bears go?" Oh shit, I thought.
Niall chuckled and came over and leaned up against the counter next to me. "I think Rebecca already found them." he mused.
Liam turned around, the annoyed expression melting off his face and replaced with a grin. "So I guess you're not the only one who like Haribo, huh?" I shook my head and ate a couple more.
"So you like them too?" I asked.
"I don't really care for them, I got those for Harry." Liam shruggs. Just the mention of his name caused me to choke. I felt Niall pat my back as I tried to compose myself.
"But don't worry about it we can get him more later." Liam says. I nod again and continue my snack.
I helped them put away grocieries and then headed up to my room. It did not seem as dark anymore. Possibly because I had become so used to it. I looked around my room.
I just don't really know what to do..
I knelt down beside my bed and pulled out my suitcase. Unzipping it, I pulled out my sketchbook.
I flipped throught my book. Its pages were crinkled and whethered. I had filled it up almost an entire year and a half ago.
There were portraits of Wyaat and my mum and of the dandylions in the yard- there were a lot of sketches of those. It's been so long..

Notes