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Ordinary girl|H.S|

Twenty Three

“ Boy you can say anything you wanna
I don't give a shh, no one else can have ya
I want you back
I want you back
Wa-want you, want you back
Uh
I broke it off thinking you'd be cryin'
Now I feel like shh looking at you flyin'
I want you back
I want you back
Wa-want you, want you back
Uh”

~Want U Back by Cher Lloyd

Harry’s Pov

It’s been a week since Mason left me alone, and broken in this empty house. Everything that was in my view was broken. Shards of glass, porcelain, and pottery were on the floor. Everywhere you went you will see broken pictures and paintings. I felt like I was broken into small pieces with no one there to help me pick myself up. I miss her. I miss my son.

Ever since I was left alone, Louis was always there to help me. But I didn’t need help, I need Mason. I needed her love, her comfort. I didn’t need a friend to give me pity. I know I’m a mess. I know I’m broken. I felt sick and my only antidote was Mason.

I started developing a drinking problem. When I start thinking of Mason, or how I was a dick to her, I would drink. I would find the hardest liquor and drink the whole bottle. The lads tell me to lose the alcohol, but I can’t. It’s like it has filled the void inside of me, it helps me forget my problems. The reason she left me.

I haven’t gotten text message or a phone call since she left. I have to admit, I’m worried something happened to her, but I don’t know.

I wish sometimes that I didn’t neglect her, but I can’t just go back in time and change the past. I wish I wasn’t holding that secret from her then none of this would have happened.

Recently I was diagnosed with leukemia, lung cancer. I didn’t want to tell Mason for the fear that maybe she would leave me, but now I don’t have to worry about that anymore. Nobody knows, and I tend to keep it that way. I don’t have the balls to just go up to everyone and say “Hey everyone! I have cancer,” like if that’s a good thing.

The doctor says that the tumor is very small and can be taken out with surgery. I won’t have to worry about dying anytime soon. I wish I could though because life isn’t worth it when the love of your life is gone from your life.

I haven’t had anyone over since I literally threw Louis out my house. I know he is trying to help, but can’t stand the sympathy bullshit. Not everyday in life when something fucked up happens, you have someone there treating you like a little kid all over again. I know I’m being a bit harsh, but I can’t stand it.

There have been times when I grab a shard of glass from floor and slice my wrist. I quite enjoy though because it releases the pain I feel on the inside. The pain that I’ve buried deep inside where no one can sense it. I haven’t gotten to the extreme of committing suicide, even though I’ve consider it, but without my friends trying to find hope that I would still be here when they see me, I would have already be dead.

The last time I’ve changed my clothes was two days ago. I’m still wearing the same black tight jeans, the same black t-shirt, and the same old brown boots. My hair is up in a bun. I don’t fucking care of how I look. Not until Mason comes back, I will not be same. I won’t be the cheeky, funny Harry that everyone knows. Not the British heartthrob that all the girls swoon for. Not a husband, and dad of one. I will just be broken, abandoned Harry that no one wants or cares.

My phone has been blowing up with comments of fans saying what a slut Mason is. I sometimes want to reply back to them and say they are all bitches, but that wouldn’t be me. I’m supposed to be perfect, flawless, and a womanizer. No one knows the real me, and I choose not to show them. I’ll be a mystery to them.

Here I sit lifeless on the floor, exchanging from drinking to crying. Drink, cry, drink, cry, drink, and cry again. It’s like an endless loop. My life has always been a loop, ever since Modest! They would control me like if I were their doll. I’m not, I’m no one doll. I’m human, I cry when I’m hurt, I feel pain, and emotions.

I don’t know what to do with my life anymore. Should I wait for her to come back? Should I leave my son without a shitty father? I grab the nearest shard of glass and put the edge of it on my wrist. I press it hard against my wrist and I repeat it again 7 more times. Each time I say something about myself that hate.
“I hate that I hurt Mason!”

“I hate being controlled!”

“I hate pretending I’m okay!”

“I hate being vulnerable!”

“I hate being stupid!”

“I hate being a horrible father!”

“I hate being a shitty husband!”

On the last one I did pressed harder than the others. I wanted the pain to go away. I hate feeling like this. Love shouldn’t feel like this, it should be welcoming. I get up from the floor and head to bathroom. I don’t look into the mirror, but I just turn on the sink and wash away the blood.

I accidentally look into the mirror and I see a hurt and depressed man. A man who screwed up his life. A man who wants to die from all the pain, from all the sadness. All my emotions got the best of me because I punch the mirror out of rage. Now I stand before a broken mirror that will stand for me. I’m like broken mirror that could never be fixed.