Trigger warning: suicide attempt. Please do not read this chapter if this topic triggers you or makes you uncomfortable.

Songs to listen to while reading:

Sober – Demi Lovato

"Fuck you!" Harry yells, poison laced in his tone and alcohol slurring his words.

"Fuck you too Harry!" I shriek, slamming the front door as hard as I can behind me.

I'm sure you're wondering how we ended up here, let me tell you...

Harry came back from work; he had been out all day doing a job for King. Apparently, King paired Harry up with Zayn to do whatever it was they needed to do. I just know Harry came home with split knuckles and a new black eye. He wouldn't let me near him to help clean his hand. The way he was acting... I don't know. There was something about it that just wasn't right, there was something he wasn't telling me. And then the fighting and yelling started and now here we are...

I start walking down the street, my arms holding my shoulders to try and find warmth since I forgot to grab a coat during my storming out. I feel my back pocket of my jeans, thankful I remembered my phone.

Oh yeah, I have a phone now. Harry gave it to me yesterday, said the only thing I can do with it is call or text any of the guys or girls. It's obviously bugged so I can't do anything that they wouldn't allow me to do. I wonder if they would let me call Caleb, I miss him so much. I downloaded some games on the phone too so I could try and beat Harry's score on Candy Crush but I'm mad at the fucker so I don't want to talk about that right now.

I unlock the screen, going into contacts and pressing the top caller. The ringing sounds three times before they answer. "Alexa! Hi, you okay?"

"Cara..." I breathe out, not being able to say anything else from the tears stuck in my throat.

Why the fuck am I always crying?

I'm always so weak.

"Oh no, what happened? Do you want me to murder someone?" She asks, sounding comforting with her tone but her words make me want to laugh.

"No..." I laugh lightly, sniffing quietly. "Harry and I just had a big fight, he was drunk, told each other to fuck off and now I'm walking down the street by myself. I don't know what to do Car." I speak lowly, my voice cracking slightly.

"Oh baby girl... I'm sorry. You need to go back to the house though, I don't care how mad you are at Harry. It's not safe walking around at night by yourself, you don't want another gang member finding you. If you want, you can come here for the night?" Cara suggests.

I stop in my tracks, turning around and heading back in the direction of Harry's house. "Thank you but it's okay. You're right. I'll go back and see how Harry is first. If not, I'll call you."

"Good plan. I'll stay on the phone with you until you are home and safe." Cara states, making my heart squeeze from how much I adore this woman. "He told you what he found out today, right?"

Confused with what she is talking about I reply with a short no. "King found out and told Harry that his mom committed suicide. He never really talks about her but I know he wasn't close with her. Niall said he was acting strange at work, maybe that's it?" I need to get back to Harry. I start jogging towards Harry's house, arriving a few minutes later. I say a quick goodbye to Cara as I unlock the front door with the code, putting the phone down and sliding it into my back pocket.

I need to be there for him.

I open the front door and walk into the house, hearing silence. I see that the door is open for the patio, putting together that Harry must be outside. I cautiously trudge through the door, stepping outside. A cold breeze trickling through my hair and running down my bare arms.

Harry is sat on the three-person lounge chair, his arms stretched along the back. My eyes fall to the almost empty bottle of whiskey strayed next to him. "Harry?" I call, not really knowing where I'm supposed to go from here in this situation.

"What?" He snaps.

"Can we talk?" I ask, hoping he will talk to me about what he is feeling. I don't want to bring up his mom if he doesn't want to talk about it.

He sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "No. What is there to talk about?" He starts, picking up the bottle of whiskey, flicking the lid off that trails down and lands on the floor by his feet. "Talk about how she used to hit me? Talk about how I started using drugs because of her? Talk about how Tommy and his friends used to beat the shit out of me weekly? It's all her fault. All of it and she got out of it. She kicked me out when I was fifteen, living on the streets... And now, she' fucking killed herself!" He downs the rest of the whiskey at the end of his rant. I am frozen, I don't even feel like I should breathe. It's a lot to process what he's just told me.

His mom beat him? He used to do drugs or does he still use them? I don't know where to start.

I need to keep him talking, "What else are you thinking about?" I ask him hesitantly.

He starts rubbing his palms up and down his thighs roughly, "I can still feel the way it felt when she would hit me. I can still hear the things she used to tell me. I can still hear what they all used to tell me at school. I can stand up for myself now but I couldn't back then." His body starts rocking back and forth slightly.

"I stopped taking drugs because I didn't want to be like her. I just want to be a better person than them but look at me now. How did I get in this position? This wasn't what I wanted but I can't get out of it, I have to stay until the end..." I don't think he even realises what he's saying to me right now. He sounds like he's just spewing out whatever is coming to his mind. What does he mean about staying until the end? End of what?

I stand silently, listening to every word that he says, trying to find the right words to comfort him right now, "Why am I like this? Why can't I move on from feeling like this? They aren't in my life anymore, why does this shit still affect me?" He sounds more and more defeated with each word that he speaks.

I can't help but compare my own trauma with his. I can see the similarities between our situations but how am I supposed to help him when I don't even know how to help myself yet?

I take a step forward, hoping I can give him physical comfort since words don't seem enough to help him right now. "Stop!" He throws his hand up, stopping me from moving closer to him, it seems to have snapped him out of his daze that he was in while rambling to me. "I don't need your comfort. I don't deserve shit. I'm a lost cause Alexa, you should stay away."

"No, that is what we're not going to do. You're not going to push me away again Harry!" I raise my voice, pointing at him. I'm trying not to get angry at him, I need to be patient with him right now.

"Nothing is ever going to fix how fucked up I am up here..." He grit's through his teeth, pressing his fingers to his temples. "You deserve better..." He whispers, thinking that I didn't hear him. "I just want to be alone."

I go to move towards him again as a last attempt. "I said, don't!" he screams, throwing the whiskey bottle to shatter on the wall right next to me. He barely missed me. What am I supposed to do in this situation? If I stay, he might say or do something he will regret.

"I am going to go upstairs. If you need me, call me. I'm here for you Harry, I care about you, don't forget that okay?" I turn around, stepping over the smashed glass and walking to Harry's bedroom.

*PLAY SONG NOW PLEASE*

It's one hour of silence. One hour of sitting in Harry's bed, staring at the door, waiting for him to walk through. It's one hour of feeling sick with dread.

After the one hour is up, I just can't take it anymore. I rush out of the bedroom and run down the stairs, almost tripping down them from the speed at which I'm moving. He's not sat outside anymore; I would have heard him if he came upstairs. Where is he?

That's when the bad gut feeling rips through my body, a storm starting to stir in my chest, somethings wrong.

I start yelling out Harry's name, listening for any sign of him. The only sound that can be heard is my heavy breathing. Where the fuck is he?

I can't see him on any of the cameras. I start to panic further until I chastise myself. Get yourself together, you won't find him if you're panicking like a little bitch. Now, think Alexa. If he isn't on the cameras, where is he? He couldn't have gotten too far after drinking a full bottle of Vodka to himself. What if he is somewhere where the cameras can't see him? He could be in one of the bathrooms, those are the only rooms in the house that don't have cameras inside. There are two downstairs, he must be in one of those.

I start running down the corridor to the first bathroom, the door already being open, I flick the switch to illuminate the room with light, no Harry. I turn on my heels, running to the next bathroom that is connected to the only bedroom that is downstairs. What if he isn't there? Stop panicking Alexa!

I reach the bedroom, almost sliding on my feet from how fast I turned around the corner. Stepping into the bedroom, looking towards the bathroom. The door is closed.

The door is closed and I can see that the light is on from the crack under the door. "Harry?" I call out, walking towards the door, out of breath from running around like a crazy person.

No response.

"Harry? You in there?" I call out again. Knocking on the door a few times.

No response.

I move my hand to the handle, pulling it down and trying to push it open. It's locked.

"Harry, just say something..." I beg, shaking the door as I try to open it.

No response.

"Harry!" I scream, hoping he will just say one word to tell me that he's okay. I pound my closed fist on the door.

How the fuck am I going to get in there if the door is locked? A five-foot girl is not going to rugby tackle the door down, I just don't have that kind of strength.

Think Alexa!

My eyes search the bedroom for anything that could help me until my eyes fall on the set of keys that are dangling in the key hole for the bedroom door. There are two keys chained together, one of the keys could be an extra for the bathroom.

I take the key out of the door lock, moving that one out of the way and focusing on the other two keys. I lift the first key, trying to put it into the lock but it won't even go in, it's not the right key. I have one more key to try...

"Harry, baby. Please say something." I beg, my panic clear in my voice.

No response.

I put the last key near the key hole, taking a deep breath before sliding it into the lock. Turning the key until I hear a soft click. It worked.

I pull the handle down, pushing the door open, falling into the bathroom with the speed that I swung the door.

Harry.

The storm that was brewing in my chest, cracks with thunder and lightning.

Harry is lying down in the bathtub, curled into a foetal position. I think he's asleep until my eyes look at the sink. I've never done drugs but I know the empty plastic bags and powder left over scattered across the counter are from drugs. My eyes follow the counter, until they land on the tipped over bottle of Codeine. The bottle is empty.

"Harry?" My voice calls again, desperate that Harry will answer me.

I fall to my knees next to the bath tub, grabbing Harry's face by his chin and lifting his head. His skin feels ice cold to the touch, his face looks like all of the blood has left his body and his breathing is small and fast. There is blood soaking his clothes.

Harry's overdosing.

Authors note:

Me waiting for you all to yell at me:

I love you all so much (you don't have to say it back because I know you hate me right now).

*nervously walks away* See you next Sunday!

~Jess💜