Song: Ed Sheeran - Photograph

The last couple of days have been excruciating. Being poked a prodded at, test after test, questioned by doctors and police. I just wanted to go home the whole time, but I suppose the uneasy experience that it has been, was all going to be worth it in the end. It was hard to tell my story and answer questions I was used to keeping inside of me, despite knowing that it would keep Ryan where he belonged, along with the rest of them that lived in that house, just for being involved in the drug business and everything else they have all done.

I was trying desperately to stay strong. To keep the anger heightened so that the broken parts of me wouldn't show. It was hard to pin point exactly how I was feeling, because there was a plethora of different thoughts coursing through me at all times that I thought I would understand, but I don't.

It didn't make sense when, this morning Dad told me that Ryan and the whole lot had been charged with a lot more than I ever thought imaginable, and hearing it didn't phase me at all. I shrugged and basically shut off my hearing when the mention of court dates came up. I didn't want to think anymore. I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to believe this was what my life had come to yet again. And although finally, I had done the right thing, getting over it and dealing with it all, seemed impossible.

I had worked so hard the last time to get better. And although this time it only happened once, one time is all it takes to bring me back to the start. At the moment, I don't think I have it in me to even try. I just want to lay in my room in a ball with the curtains shut, under the covers of my warm bed, and hide away from the world forever.

Dad hasn't said anything since we got in the car. I'm thankful that I'm finally able to go home. Two days in the hospital is far too long. I can tell that Dad is afraid to say the wrong thing. The look on his face every time he looked at me over the last couple days was devastating. And I can tell now, that he feels like he's walking on eggshells already.

"What would you like for dinner?" Dad asks, as we walk into the house. "I can whip up some spaghetti quick, or order chinese food—"

"I'm fine," I tell him quietly. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat—"

I know there's going to be no arguing with him right now. He's going to make me eat regardless of what I say, and I really don't have the energy to fight with him on it. "Fine. I'm going to shower."

Despite the fact that it was just a few days ago I was last in this house, it feels like lifetimes have passed. What a difference a few days can make. I left as one person and came back as someone new. But not the good kind of new. The second-hand kind, chipped in a few places and not in the least bit shiny anymore. And as I look into the bathroom mirror, I realize I don't have a clue as to who the girl is staring back at me. The girl I was just starting to be is long gone, replaced with a ghastly representation of a girl, lost somewhere inside her head with nothing but cruel images to remind her that her life is simply nothing but a waste.

The swell around my eye is almost gone, but the black and blue state of it, is still very distinct. I know that no amount of cover up will come close to hiding it, and at this point, there's no point in trying to hide anything. It still hurts to move, not nearly as much as a few days ago, but enough to still make me cringe as I take my clothes off to get into the shower in front of the mirror. So many bruises. My body blotched in colors that should never exist on skin. At least not as much as I'm seeing at this very moment. A tear falls from my eye, and I quickly wipe it away to avoid more tears from following.

I make my way down the stairs, wet hair and a nice pair of snuggly pajamas when I'm finished in the bathroom. It feels nice to be clean. To be in the comfort of my old home, despite it being filled with boxes. And although I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone, even Dad, it's still a good feeling to be here with him right now. Safe. I can't ask for anything more at the moment. I'm just hoping he allows for the silence to continue.

He had asked plenty of questions during my stay at the hospital. Questions that I wasn't sure how to answer. Questions about Harry, and his not being able to understand why he wasn't there. I was unsure as to how I wanted to answer him so I stayed quiet, shrugged my shoulders a few times, diverted my attention elsewhere. The thought of Harry just brought more pain. Gave me more reason to feel empty. Reminded me that even after all this stuff with Ryan was over, reality really wasn't worth coming back to.

"Perfect timing, kiddo," Dad smiles, as he places a plate of spaghetti in front of me as I sit down at the kitchen table. "Feel better now that you've showered?"

"I guess."

Silence. The sound of Dad's fork clinking on his plate echoes through the empty house as I move the noodles around with my fork. I don't really want to eat it, but the look on Dad's face makes me stuff a fork-full into my mouth to make him happy.

"So—" Dad breaks the silence. "Day after tomorrow, I thought we'd go to Victoria to see the new house."

"Okay," I simply say. 

"Okay, kiddo," he sighs. "You need to talk to me."

My eyes slowly make their way from my plate to his face. "I don't really want—"

"You've been avoiding the topic of Harry for days," he goes on. "I'm a lawyer, Paisley. I'm not an idiot. What happened? Your silence makes me think the worst. He wasn't involved with Ryan somehow was he?"

My eyes widen at his words. "Oh my God, Dad. No. Please don't think so awful of him. You know he's a good guy."

He gets up from the table, leaving the kitchen for a moment and comes back carrying a wooden box and sets it carefully on the table in front of me, before crossing his arms. "Does it have something to do with this?"

I stare at the words 'You and I' carved into the top of it. Harry had made me this box in high school in shop class. He was a nerd, but that boy could do just about anything he put his mind to, and whatever it was that he did, came out perfect. It's hard to believe this was just another one of those things that should have made me remember him when I saw it, even though I only had a small glance at it just the other day. So many times I should have remembered him. So many times he gave me hints. What would he have done if I had remembered sooner? Would things have ended the way they did, if I had just clued in earlier?

Stupid brain.

"I knew he looked familiar," Dad continues, as he opens the box. "But you dated him for such a short time, I forgot all about him. Did you—"

"No."

Dad didn't know about the dare. He didn't know what went down with Jenny. Just like I'm doing now, I kept my mouth shut through my sadness. We were always close, but there will always be things you just don't want to share with your family. Especially when it comes to things that will no doubt make them think less highly of you.

"But you do know he's the same—"

"Yes."

"When did you find out?"

"Dad, please," I beg. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Why didn't he come to the hospital, Paisley?" he questions. "Why wasn't he there to keep you from Ryan? Please, kiddo. Help me understand what happened. Everything with you two was so great. I thought you were better. Did you push him away because you were scared? He's good for you. You need him right now."

Tears start welling up in my eyes, so fierce I'm instantly unable to see through the blur they're causing. The fact that he thinks this, isn't surprising. He thinks that Harry is God's gift to me, and therefore seems to praise his presence in my life, knowing what he's done for me. Knowing how Harry was with me, of course he would assume that his lack of presence over the last couple days was my fault, but I would have done anything to have Harry next to me. I would have given anything to have him hold my hand and tell me that everything will be okay. To have him look me in the eyes, smile his perfectly dimpled smile and tell me that just like everything else, I would get through this, because I have him.

But I don't have him.

I don't have him because of what I did to him. I don't have him because everything was apparently a lie. How could none of it be real? And he thought I was playing him? This all makes no sense. My mind is all over the place, I can't think a straight thought. But seeing this box, and hearing Dad's words makes the pain overpower the anger I had been trying to feel towards everything.

"Paisley, just talk to me, please," Dad pleads. "Please don't cry."

Without saying anything, I grab the box and run up to my room. I don't want to talk. Hell, I don't want to cry either, but I know at this point, there's no stopping the tears. Now that I've allowed myself to feel, the last thing I want is for Dad to see me break.

I take my time getting myself back together as I pace my bedroom. Kicking half packed boxes around the room in the midst of my small freak out. My attention keeps going back to the box on the bed, unsure if I'm ready to look inside of it. Although I got my memories back, I'm uncertain about the contents inside, other than the fact that everything has to do with Harold—Harry. I still can't believe this.

It's strange to think Harry is Harold, and at the same time, he is surprisingly still very much the same person. All of his romantic gestures makes sense. When he told me that he was brought up proper, he wasn't lying. The gentleman that I remember him being, is still very much present in him. I can understand now, the reason for his sleeping around, and not caring who he hurt in the process. I made him an uncaring man. I made him unloving. How could I have turned that most amazing sweet boy, who loved with everything that he was, into a cold-hearted asshole?

When I decide I'm ready to have a look inside, I sit down cross legged on my bed and carefully open it. The tears are still streaming down my face and my hands are shaking, knowing I'm going to take a painful walk down memory lane. It was the only part of my life back then that was real to me. The only part that held any meaning. And yet, how it ended, and what it did to my life, gave it so much more significance.

In one short month, we were able to fill this box with memories. From sand in a small jar from our spot on the beach, photo booth pictures from the mall, movie tickets, small pieces of paper ripped out of school notebooks of little notes he would give me every day. The smallest of sweet reminders with things like You're beautiful, You're my Ever After and I love you. Homemade burned cd's with all of our favorite songs. Songs he thought meant something to us. 

It's hard to look back and remember how quickly we clicked. How it was obvious that we were meant to be together from the beginning. Other than the dare, we shared everything with each other. Confided in each other with all the things we would have normally kept to ourselves. We needed each other then, just the same as we did this year. Our bond was strong and we held importance in each other's lives, connecting in ways, I know to this day, we'd both never connect with anyone else.

As I'm going through the photo album, I have to fight the tears back. The smile on our faces were real. You could feel the happiness radiating from us in each and every picture. It was clear in these pictures we captured our entire month together, and we had spent every waking hour inseparable. In just one short month, we lived an entire beautiful relationship. The picture perfect kind most people would never get in their lifetime. And I wish more than anything I could go back in time. Relive it all. Relive every incredible moment, just to know what it feels like to have something as amazing as what we had together.

When I reach the last page, there's an envelope taped to the back with my name on it. I don't remember putting it there, and I don't have a clue what's inside. But it's Harry's printing on the outside, so it's clear it's from him. I slowly take the folded piece of paper out and with the first words I read, I'm even more so a mess than before.

My Dearest Paisley; My love, my life, my forever,

You stole my heart the first time I laid my eyes on you. And every day since then, you have been my breath of fresh air. Even though I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to be with you, you were always 'it' for me. You've always held that place in my heart, and you always will no matter what happens in our lives.

I now understand why you've always held such significance to me. And that is because I know we were meant to be together. I read once, that your soul mate is someone who shows you everything that holds you back. Someone who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. They're the most important person you will ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. And every second since we've been together, I will admit, this person, my soulmate, I know is you.

And if ever there is a time in our lives, I don't get to call you mine, I want you to know that it'll still be you. It will always be you, Paisley. Only you.

Forever yours,
H. xx

I all of a sudden feel like I got the wind knocked out of me. I don't ever remember reading this note from Harry before, but I feel like I was meant to find it right now. I needed to read this. I needed this reminder of how he once felt about me. And with these precious words I have in my hand, with every last shattered piece of me, I know that all those hateful words he said to me at Mondo Gelato, were lies. They had to be. There's no doubt in my mind that somehow, someway, we will be able to fix this. After all, we have been meant to be together from the start.

And aside from this letter, I have proof now, that everything we shared this year was honest. I can tell that his feelings for me were in fact real, because the smile on his face in these pictures in high school, is the exact same perfectly dimpled smile I captured this time around. Meaning, he was just as happy as he was before.

I know there's a good chance he may have started all of this with the intentions of hurting me. But I suppose it wouldn't be us if it were any different. He may not want to admit that he loves me, but I know that he does. He fell for me the way I did with him in high school—Unintentionally. But it's real. All of it is real.

**

I spent a good deal of time fighting my emotions yesterday. My head playing games with my heart. It was clear they couldn't come together with the truth, pushing and pulling, never compromising. My heart, obviously pulling towards love. I love Harry and believe he loves me. My head telling my heart, it's out of it's mind, and stabbing myself would surely be less painful. 

The internal battle never stopped as I worked on Harry's present, finally having enough time to finish it. Sure, it's over a month since his birthday has passed, but I don't care. I will still get it to him, regardless of everything that's happened. It was a good way to forget about everything with Ryan, which I needed after I woke up in a sweat due to the nightmare I had. I needed to keep my mind busy, and although I had trouble staying positive about Harry, it was still better than thinking about Ryan.

Now that we're back in Victoria, I realize I haven't even asked Dad where this new house is that we're moving into. I've avoided any kind of conversation with him and have tried desperately to stay distanced from him so that I didn't have to talk. He tried questioning me on the ferry over here to see how I'm doing, but the good thing about the ferry, is that it's easy to just walk away, and still have a good view.

I'm watching as houses go by on one side, the ocean on the other. It isn't surprising we're driving this road—the road we used to live on. Dad loves this area and his ocean views. He slows down to look at our old house quickly, but keeps going. My heart starts to pound when I realize he's driving out of Oak Bay and into Fairfield.

"Dad?" I finally break the long silence, sounding more panicked than I wanted to. "Where is this house?"

He smiles, looking at me for a few seconds. "It's not too far up here. It's perfect, Paisley. Your favorite spot on the beach is almost across the street."

I look over to the ocean side, to see my spot on the beach is right up ahead. The big rock and the driftwood exactly where it's always been. Mixed emotions start to whirl around inside of me knowing Harry lives very close to here. But I have no time to think of anything else, as Dad pulls into a driveway with a side garage just around the corner.

I try not to acknowledge the fact that Harry's house is almost right next door. The backyards only split by a fence. His big blue house sticks out like a sore thumb, and I'm unsure as to how I feel. "Did you do this on purpose?" I ask.

"Do what?" Dad looks at me confused, unbuckling his seat belt.

"Harry's family lives right there!" I screech, pointing at the house next door.

"How could I have known that?" he rolls his eyes. "But maybe this will get you to talk to me about him."

I roll my eyes in reply and step out of the car, not wanting to have that particular conversation. I do plan on seeing Harry today before we head back to our house in Vancouver. I didn't bring his present all this way for no reason. He'll get it. And I'm hoping he'll listen to all I have to say, and answer every single question floating around in my mind, even though at this very moment, my head is winning over my heart and telling me seeing him is a bad idea.

Dad takes me on a tour of the house. It's nice and spacious, and my room has a balcony. It doesn't face the ocean. Instead it faces Harry's house, and I can't help but wonder if this is a coincidence or some stupid joke. 

"You can look around if you want," Dad says. "I've got a few things that I need to work on in the basement. The contractors are going to be here soon. So let me know if you want to change anything in your room. Balcony doors upgraded or—"

"Everything is fine, Dad," I tell him. "I'm just—I'm going to Harry's, if that's okay."

"So you are still talking," Dad smiles. "That's a relief! Tell him I say hi and ask him if he wants to go to dinner with us later."

My heart starts to race in my chest as I make my way back to the car to get Harry's present. The wind blows through my hair and I wish at this moment, I had done something better with my appearance. Although there's not much I could have done with this black and blue state I'm still in. At least the swell is completely gone now. I suppose this is as good as it's going to get and I need to focus on what's important. And what I look like, is the last thing I should be worrying about right now.

I stand on his porch, book in my hand, for what feels like a long time. I fight with myself over leaving and staying, turning around a few times to walk back down the stairs and back up them again. I just need to find the courage to knock. I need to force myself to do this. I need answers. And I need to give him this damn book that took me months to put together. You can do this Paisley. He'll take one look at you and realize he's missed you. And everything will work out.

I finally take a deep breath, finding the air in my lungs and knock on the door loudly. This is it. I'm not leaving until I know the truth. I knock again when no one answers.

Maybe no one's home? Maybe I should just leave this book in the mailbox and leave. Maybe this is all a mistake. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm all of a sudden feeling like I'm setting myself up for a disaster, but before I even have a chance to put the book in the mailbox, the door opens and I know there's no turning back now.

A/N: SO sorry for the wait for this!! I hope it was worth it though. Sort of a filler, sort of not. The next chapter will be better, I promise!

How do you think it's going to turn out when she finally talks to Harry?

Thank you for 28.7K reads!! ☺☺

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