CHAPTER ELEVEN
I take a deep breath as Harry looks at me with expectant eyes. I watch as my hands move around and my fingers crack with each bend of a joint. I don't know how to start; don't know what to say.
"I get if you don't want to tell me." He says calmly, even after the way I had treated him, "After all, I'm not the one who died."
I could cry because he's so sweet and never is mad at me and I don't know what to do. His tone is calm and understanding, not sarcastic and angry like mine, and he has every right to be like that, and he's not, and I don't know why.
"But-but could you tell me what it's like?"
My eyes snap up from my fingers and he looks at me carefully. It's the first time we've both actually looked at each other correctly: right at each other.
"What do you mean?" I ask even though I know exactly what he means.
He nods to my body and my transparency and my ghostliness, and I let out a small, breathy laugh. At least he's being nice about it. (Even though I snapped at him earlier for it.)
"It's-It's not good Harry. Don't ever do it." I say and it doesn't make sense to him but makes perfect sense to me.
His eyebrows furrow and he gives an odd look. "That doesn't make sense. Everyone has to die."
"I mean don't cut your life short, Harry." I say, looking down again and by his surprised gasp, I know he gets it. He's smart; he should get it.
"You mean-" He starts but I cut him short.
"Yes, I-I took my own life." He deserves all my attention, so I look at him and not my fingers or the cuts in my jeans or the small string pointing out from his blanket.
"Oh, Violet." He says sorrowfully, and again I could cry. Why is he sad? Why does he feel bad? Why does he always feel the same as the people around him?
I nod and find it hard to hold his intense gaze, but somehow keep it up. Maybe it's because his eyes are so beautiful.
"Yeah, it's not good Harry." My voice breaks but I ignore it, "Please don't ever do it." By now there's tears running down my cheeks and I reach out to put my hand by Harry's, the closest thing to holding it.
He notices the small movement and offers a small smile that I can't bring myself to return. "Violet..." He says again, "Why did you-" He looks pained and I can't take it, "Why would you ever do that?"
I shake my head and shrug my shoulders, "Stupid reasons. Not good reasons, Harry. Just-please don't do it!" My voice breaks with my tears and a hiccup slips past my lips when I'm finished. I'm such a mess.
He shushes me, and scoots over, patting the space beside him and I nod, crawling next to him and leaning my back against the headboard as he does. Now I look forward, looking at the closet door, wishing I could crawl back in and not relive all of this.
He sets his hand in the small space between us, and I do the same. A way of showing comfort, I guess, but I'm far from being comfortable. It's not Harry's fault at all; in fact, he's making this all a lot better.
"I won't ever Violet, I promise." He looks at me and I can see from the corner of my eye, but can't bring myself to do the same. "Please look at me."
I do this time and he smiles. "I promise I won't ever, just-just tell me why you ever did such a... horrible thing."
I nod and breathe in deeply. I don't get why I'm acting like this, it's been five years and yet now I'm crying about it.
It's probably the fact that Harry's talking about it with me, that he wants to know and wants to help me and everything that an amazing person like him would want to do; even if that means helping some stir crazy ghost.
