Shattered

CHAPTER NINE
I don't think I've been more mortified. Like, in my life! Liam brought me down to the kitchen where Louis was sitting, hovering over a mug of coffee. He looked exhausted, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was hungover. There was a pan on the old wrought iron stove with what looked like cold breakfast. Liam directed me towards the table while he put together a plate for me before disappearing around the corner.
Let me say that these boys were not cooks. It was nothing but potatoes and eggs- not anything easy to screw up. I could not eat. Part of it was the grief, and part of it because of the food. Like, have you seen it. I was extremely picky, but you can't blame me. The other reason, to be honest with you, I figured that if I was too much of a problem-child, I'd be taken out of there. After all, it has worked for the past several months since the death of my parents.
"You should stop playing with your food. You need to eat, love." Louis said from across the parlour table. "You haven't eaten anything since you've been here."
"I haven't been hungry." I mumbled. I continued to swirl the scrambled eggs around my plate absentmindedly.
"But you're going out today, it seems. How does that sound?" He tried. I gave him nothing more than a shrug, too focused on the tower I was making out of my potatoes. "Please, just a bite?"
"Why just a bite?" I say.
"Rebecca, because I care for you and your well-being."
"What are you trying to do?" I challenged him.
"I- I, because you need to eat! " Louis justified, throwing his hands in the air. "You need something other than tea. Besides, Mr. Styles entrusted your care in my hands and if-"
"Well shit, dude." I say. "It must suck to be you then." Louis looked at me pointedly. "I'm just being honest,"
"I'm too hungover for this," Louis mutters, rubbing his face in aggravation. I could tell I was really beginning to piss him off. "Eat or don't eat. I don't give a shit."
"Same," I say, taking a bite of egg. Louis huffs as he watched me.
"I don't know whether to be afraid or proud, right now."
"How come?"
"You're just an asshole, I don't know how to feel about it." he replied.
"Then be afraid." I say. I take of another bite. I will not admit it to him, but now that I actually have food in my mouth, I realized I was famished. And I felt like I had to work hard to keep my enthusiasm for the gross food to a minimum, but I didn't do a good job.
"So what was it that you were saying ealier, Miss Lane? Hmmm. . .," he says sassily. "You're not hungry. . . ?"
"Fuck off, Louis." I say as I scoop another fork full.
"Wow, vulgar too." He comments. I shrug
Maybe he wasn't too bad. Maybe.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
(HALF AN HOUR LATER)
I had finished eating, and Louis left me at the table so he could go 'freshen' up. But that was half an hour ago. What bothered me is that maybe Louis had changed his mind. Maybe he didn't want to spend his time baby-sitting a fifteen year old girl... I mean, if I had a choice, I wouldn't be spending time with me either- let alone the fact of having to babysit myself. Fuck that!
"Miss Lane? Are you ready?" I hear called from the stairway behind the kitchen wall. Moments later, Ruben had popped around the corner, wearing a light blue t-shirt and jeans. I had to admit, he freshened up nicely. He had his hair swept to the side for once, so he could actually see. It was nice. Its nice to see- well, I would assume so.
Louis led me towards the back of the kitchen were a boarded up door was. He pulled out a hammer from his pocket.
"Louis, why do you need that?" I ask.
"Because the door had been nailed shut. It hasn't been used in years."
"Oh," that was all I could manage to say. Oh. It was just intriguing.
BANG!
There goes the first nail.
CRACK!
I jumped at the sound of the door frame snapping and parts of it splintering off.
SNAP!
The board was off. Louis took a hesitant glance back at me, setting his hammer down and standing the plank up against the door, and offered a soft reassuring smile. Louis twisted the doorknob and then the light flooded into the kitchen.
The light was absolutely blinding. I nearly fell into the bloody table behind me! I didn't know whether to change my mind and go back up to my room, or just stand there. I haven't been outside in about four days. And I had already begun to deteriorate from the lack of movement and exposure.
But my skin was hungry for vitamin D.
I took a cautious step forward, then another. I had no idea what would meet me beyond that door.
And then I was there.
I was standing in grass- its soft, cold, dew-covered blades met the bottoms of my feet in the most beautiful of ways. The grass was almost to my shoulders and it tousled to and fro about me in the breeze carelessly. I turned back to the door, and Louis was leaning up against it tiredly. A glossy-eyed smile etched with sad reminisce decorated his face. His eyes were blue. A dark, dark blue. A sad kind of blue. They all seemed sad.
"It hadn't always been like this," he said, mostly to himself it seemed. I turned and took a cautious step towards him.
"What do you mean?" I asked him.
"Come with me," he said. He offered me his arm and lead me through the tall grass.
It was a while before he spoke.
"Miss Lane, its kind of hard to explain, but if you could listen?" He asked. Louis looked down at me and I nodded. "Your parents, Miss Lane, were phenomenal people. They were so good to us."
"Oh?" I said. "How did you know them?"
"Like I have said before, Harry's father, Harold, and your parents had been friends for a long time. Harry's father took the other lads and I up when things went a bit sour with our families. Your parents helped us as well. Edith and Charlie helped Harry's father with this house. They kept it up quite nicely. Then Harry's father started growing... uh, ill, he later died. It was something with his lungs, I was told then." Louis sighed heavily. It was hard for him.
I nodded as I took this all in. It was difficult to listen to. I knew that mum and dad were always working with charities and helping people- but how is it that people can't seem to realize that it was just an act? And also, it has been months since someone said their names.
I looked out at the grassy yard. Overgrown with grass and weeds, I thought.
This grass was so tall. If I really wanted to I could have bolted right then and there. They would have never seen me again. But I couldn't.
I turned back to Ruben. I knelt down in the grass and sat down. He looked at me curiously before he copied my actions.
"Louis, may I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
This was my cue. "Why haven't I seen Harry?"
Louis emitted a chuckle as he glanced up to the attic window. It was boarded up just the same. "He's here. He's always around, but he just... Styles has a funny way of doing things. He doesn't do well talking to people. Its hard for him."
"But I talked to him," I said.
"In person, I mean. Ever since the accident, he won't really let anyone near him. Only Liam has- well... Liam kind of forced himself in."
"How?" I asked. "Why?"
"This house... it's the only home Harry has ever known." Louis continued. "And after the accident, well it messed him up so bad he retreated into the only safe place that he's ever known... And he never came back."
Louis looked down at his shoes, moving the blades of grass one way and another. I stared straight ahead in silence.
What happened to him?
~·~H~·~
Later that evening I went downstairs for fresh air- well, as fresh as it can be when I'm still in the house. As I descended, I heard a voice in the kitchen.
"If I were home, I'd... sleep in my own bed. I would curl up under my own covers and I'd stare at the stars on my ceiling until I fall asleep. I imagine my mom making her delicious pancakes, and my dad at the-" the voice broke, "at the table, with his coffee and his hugs and..."
I walked into the kitchen as Rebecca sighed heavily and put her head in her hands. Cautiously I crossed the room to the kettle and put it on the stove for tea.
"Hey Louis are you maki-"
We froze. Our eyes widened simultaneously. In unison we uttered, "Crap."
Immediately I averted my eyes, fixing my hair to cover the left side of my face but it was too late. She'd seen me.
"Who- who are you?"
I turned away from her. "I live here."
"Well, we all kinda live here, don't we? But that's not what I asked."
I cleared my throat and changed the subject. "I heard you, earlier. You were imagining how your life would be if your parents were here, right?"
"Yeah. We all imagine for things we never have."
I poured the hot water into a mug and added a tea bag.
"Sometimes..." I started hesitantly. "I imagine I could fly."
Rebecca let out a surprised laugh. "That's nice. And other times?"
"I imagine I were dead."
The severity of my words hit us both with full force. I took my mug and walked away. I never should've said that.
"Wait where are you- stop! Where...?"
I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. I never should've come out. I never should've said that.
~.~R~.~
I was utterly dumb-founded. I didn't know how to feel- or even what to say.
I was not expecting to hear that.
What was even more alarming was the fact of how close to home it hit.
I could relate. I related to his words.
It was one simple sentence. Just one simple sentence. And it all made sense.
I didn't get a good look at the man's face, so I still didn't really have a face to put to the letters I have received. But I now knew that he wasn't some aspiration that the others were just seeing. I was able to put a soul to the sobbing I had heard the night prior.
That one sentence angered me as well. No one was supposed to understand how I felt. NO ONE. I was supposed to be alone now. This wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to get what it was like being stuck in a deep dark hole. A hole where you could scream as loud as you want but nobody would be listening to you, they just walk over you like you're not even there. He wasn't supposed to understand what it was like to be constantly caught up in a chaotic storm that never ceased. That my problems and myself never seemed to ever come to a standstill. They always faced off and at a constant strain with one another. They were fighting for power over my mind.
I went up to my room and sat on the edge of the bed. It was pitch black in there, what else was I supposed to do? I thought about the candle and the book of matches.
I leaned over the brass bedside table and fumbled for the candle and the book of matches they have given me. I stuck the first match and had luck. It lit. Finding the wick of the candle wasn't too hard to do, and (considering the room was pitch black) aluminated the small space. I took out the letter I have gotten from the mysterious boy and reread it. He was right about yet another thing: we were more alike and I wouldn't admit that. Not directly at least.
I took the graphite pencil and had begun to write.
Sometimes, I imagine what I'd look if I had green hair, and sometimes I imagine how everything would have gone if I told them I loved them one last time- that we didn't fight that night.
With that I folded the paper and crept out my door.
I already knew what I was about to do was insane and could go so many different ways. I managed to feel my way down the hall till I came to the ladder.
This is were the crying had come from.
This must be his quarters.
I placed one hesitant foot on the ladder and made my ascent. It wasn't much. Before I knew it I had come to an opening in the roof. I climbed through and found that it was airy and cold. There was a heavy draft. I turned around and saw a small line of light coming from underneath the door. This is it, I thought to myself. This is really it.
I folded the paper tighter and slid it under the door. I heard a mumble and then footsteps. For someone so tall, he walked quite lightly. His footsteps stopped just before the door. The sound for creaking floorboards indicated shifting weight, which meant he had reached down and picked up the paper. It was quiet after that. I knew he was still standing there. He knew I was still there as well. It was more of a matter of whether or not it was a good idea for actual confrontation.
Slowly, the knob of the door turned and it creaked and groaned on it's hinges.
I gasped.
There he stood. He was so much taller and so much younger looking now that we were only about a meter apart. He appeared to be only nineteen or twenty. He had long, unruly dark brown hair that hung over the left side of his face like a curtain while the other side was pulled back over his shoulder and behind his ear. He had sharp, defined cheekbones and a strong angled jaw that ended in a softly rounded chin.
He had long slender fingers that carefully held the handle of the paper and the frame. He was hesitant, and confused.
We stared at each other for what seemed like forever before he cleared his throat. "Uh.. Um, w-what are you doing here?" He stuttered. He was soft spoken, but his voice was deep and resonated in my ears smoothly. Raspy, his voice was raspy too.
"I wrote you a letter back." I found myself saying. He furrowed his brow. I watched him intently as the right side of his face scrunched up in thought.
"Oh," he finally says. He mumbles something else inaudible before he opened his door a bit wider. "Its cold in this hall. Do you want to come in?"
It was my turn to pause. Uh..
"Okay." I answered. He stepped to the side and as I walked past, I noticed him adjust his hair over his face again.
Once I was inside, he softly closed the door, but he didn't turn around. He kept his back to me. Louis was right, I thought, he was a bit odd.
"Would you like to sit down?" He offered. He pulled the chair from his desk and offered it to me. I quietly obliged. It was polite of him. So he wasn't a complete socially impaired boy. He sat down on his bed.
Harry was extremely pale. He had on American Jogger pants and a black t-shirt. But he was still... I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
"So," I started as I looked about his room. It was very plain and dim. However he used candles just like me. It was warm and for some reason I found it comforting.
"So," I heard him begin. "You imagine having green hair."
"Yeah," I answered.
"And you imagined what your life would be like if you told them you loved them before they left."
"Yeah," I whisper.
Harry let out a laboured sigh. "Well, sometimes I wish I could play the banjo."
I smiled at that. "How come?"
I heard him chuckle to himself. "It just seems like a happy instrument."
I nodded. " And other times?"
"Other times," he continued. "I wish I wasn't afraid of the dark."
I snorted. He turned around and looked at me. I immediately dropped my head. "I'm sorry." I apologize. " I just thought that- well, you don't strike me as the kind of person to be afraid of the dark."
It was his turn to scoff. "Why would you think that? Everyone can be afraid of the dark. Its a natural human fear evolutionarily instilled in us."
"Hmm, well sometimes I imagine singing opera, and sometimes I imagine I were mute."
Harry nodds. "Why do you imagine you were mute?"
I looked up with tears. Harry leaned over to his bedside table and pulled a box of tissues from the drawer and handed me a couple.
"Because," I choke. "I wouldn't have hurt people. There would be no regrets."
Harry was silent. He carefully soaked up every word. And then he nodded. "Sometimes, I imagine I could be a prince, other times I were a monster.." He whispers that last part.
I studied him. Harry was sort of hunched over and turned to his left. I couldn't really look at that side of him. I couldn't really see him well. It was too dim.
But this soul, this broken boy, we connected. And I don't really see why. But we did.
He was too close to me, emotionally speaking, however, I bet it was the same for him. It was just so hard.
I didn't say anything to him after that last part. I stood up and walked away. Harry did nothing to object. I bet he came to the same realization that I did.
I opened the door, but hesitated. I turned back. "Harry?" He looks up at me. "Although we may never be friends, and I still have my reservations about this house and all of you, I hope we can continue to talk. After all, the first part of stitching up a wound is having a needle and thread."
"I'm not following, Becca." He says. He called me Becca, I thought.
"Goodnight Mr. Styles." I say.
* * H * *
I don't know when I fell asleep, or how to feel about it all. But I managed to fall asleep. It was a dreamless kind of sleep, however I preferred that over the alternative. I never had dreams anymore, only nightmares.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes just as Ryker came scampering out of my bathroom, which was where he preferred to sleep, and hopped up on my bed. I rolled my eyes and patted his head. He was a good dog. He didn't care about how I looked. As long as I fed him and let him outside so he could shit he was content. Ryker was young, about two and a half years.
Two and a half years.
I rolled over to my side and glanced at my alarm clock. It was nearly eleven in the morning.
I got dressed and pulled my hood over to hide my face before I opened the door to my closet. The nice thing about my attic is that my closet concealed a hidden stair case that lead right behind the wall of the kitchen. I used it often. It was typically how I got to my room. Hardly touched that damned ladder at all- which was how the boys got up there.
I climbed down the conealed stairs that lead between the kitchen and the living room wall. There, I opened up a door into the main room to let Ryker out. He barked happily and scampered out. He went straight into the kitchen. I heard Rebecca gasp as she exclaimed, "He's back."
Louis chuckled. "Hey boy, he finally let you out, huh?"
"Who does he does he belong to?" Rebecca asked.
Louis laughed. I could already tell that he was loving on the dog.
"He belongs to Harry." Louis laughed again as Ryker barked anxiously, whining a bit. Suddenly Ryker scraped at the wall.
"Louis," Rebecca began.
Luckily, Louis tugged him away. I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My little 'cover' could have been blown.
"Louis," she said again. "Do you ever talk to Harry?"
I heard Louis sigh. "Sometimes. Not often. We used to be best mates..."
"What happened?"
"He grew distant. After Robin died he kind of shut down. What is this about?"
"Nothing," she sighed. I could smell bacon cooking. Which meant everyone had just woken up. "I was wondering, do you think he'll come down for breakfast? Or is this lunch?" She giggled at that. It was actually kind of cute. I found it cute, her little giggle.
"Its called 'Feed Me'," I heard Niall yawn. The sound of pans clanging and Louis asking Niall to let Ryker out signaled that conversation had died out.
I headed back to my room and laid on my bed. I just wanted to sleep some more. However, Louis apparently didn't get that memo because he burst through my door and announced, "So what happened here, Harry? What the actual fuck happened to you?"
I sat up and looked pointedly at my friend. "What are you talking about?" I asked him. Louis closed the door and sat down at my desk.
"Save it, you already know what. I'm just getting really sick of this bullshit, Haz. We were best friends, you were the greatest person that I knew. I used to be able to depend on you for everything. What the fuck happened. What lead to this?" He looked so distressed, so tired.
His hands were shaking and his eyes were more bloodshot than mine were. And for the first time in a while- months- I looked my friend in the eye. They were dulling.
"I can't stand this, Haz, I can't." He tugged at the roots of his hair and he stood. "Look at what you're doing to yourself! Look at what you're doing to me! To Niall, to Liam! We have taken care of you for months! Years!"
He was pacing now. "I have handled you for months- when you came home at the early hours of the morning, and slept till noon! I took care of you when you were throwing up your guts when you drank too much... And do you know why? Because I loved you. You were my mate! But when can I break down? When can I get drunk and throw up all my sadness? When can I be hurt? Harry, when am I allowed to grieve?! And know that you'll be there to take care of me? I want a chance to hurt too!
"I hated your dad so fucking much! He wasn't just aweful to you! He was the first fucking father figure I ever had as well as my first demon. He tortured me too! He gave me hell too! All five of us! He's gone, Harry, get over it! And as for Charlie and Edith, you made a fucking choice and it resulted in a terrible mistake. A fatal mistake that cost Rebecca her parents, but still a mistake. MAN THE FUCK UP STYLES AND MAKE THIS RIGHT! You owe it to her. You owe her your time and your energy and your effort, not us! You have one shot to fix this. I'm not saying be a parent, but she deserves someone to look up to and count on and someone to be there for her. We all know that Wyatt had fucked up this time- he can't be that person... EVER. But you, you've got one shot."
To be honest, I wasn't really paying much attention at all, I heard it all before. Niall has said the whole 'get your life together' spiel before, as well as Liam. It wasn't such a new concept for me.
Except this time, I realised that Louis had said something different. Something the others haven't- two things, actually:
First: Him grieving
Second: 'We were best friends'
"Were?" I asked.
"Were," he confirmed.
His face was red, jaw set and locked, and his hands were fisted. He was so angry, and I had never seen this Louis before. He had been annoyed, but never angry. Was I that bad?
All of a sudden my feet became interesting.
"Louis, you know how I am. You know that this is hard for me," I said.
"Figures," he sighed, clearly annoyed. He shook his head and dropped his hands tiredly to his side. He suddenly looked exhausted and indifferent. His shoulders were slouched and his face turned placid.
He turned and went to the door, then stopped. Louis turned back around. "Y'know what? I'm done helping you. It's obvious that you don't give a shit about how the rest of us feel."
"Where are you going?"
He stopped. "I'm staying with Zayn for a while. He was smart enough to get out of here when he did." He grabbed the doorknob and turned it.
I heard a faint sob emitted from him as he stepped through the door to reveal to me what I had done to my best mate. He was blotchy faced and tear-stained.
"Y'know, I wish you luck, Haz. I really do."
And with that, he slammed the door and everything was silent. Absolutely silent.
* * * * * * * * *
". . Yeah, I know. . . Okay? . . . But- yeah, I know. I can't stay here, Z, this is getting to be too much for me. ... I miss 'em, Z, I want my friend back.. A month. . . Okay, see you in about an hour. You too, bye." I heard Louis shuffle about his room. I also heard him yelling before breakfast. I also heard him cry too.
What was going on.
Just as I was about to knock, the door swung open and the blue-eyed man nearly collided into me.
"Miss Lane- what- what are you doing?" he asks, he swings a bag over his shoulder and shoves his phone into his back pocket. He was wearing sweats, the bottoms were rolled just above the ankle.
"I just wanted to know if everything was okay- like, if you were okay." I say. I glance back at his bag.
"Where are you going?"
"I just need to leave for a bit. I needed to get out."
"Please don't leave," I plead. "I don't want another person to leave, Louis."
I know I look completely pathetic, stupid, just childish. But I really didn't want another person to leave- at least not angry.
"Go to bed Miss Lane, Liam will take you back to the gardens tomorrow." Louis says shortly, completely disregarding me.
He shuffled past me and closed his bedroom door. He turned back to me and said, "Good luck and I wish the best for you, Miss Lane. Honest. I wish I could've helped you more." Then he left.

Notes