Creator (book 3) - H.S

Chapter 8: Ghost Of You.

A/N: sorry. PS: this is how her belly is.

TRIGGER WARNING: VIOLENCE.

7 DAYS AFTER EL DISAPPEARED

HARRY'S POV:

My eyes are tired as they open, focusing on the ceiling, and the empty feeling of the bed around me. I still sleep on one side of the bed as if she was right next to me still, as if she'd roll over in a second and curl into me. I miss that feeling. Fucking hell I miss the way she smells. I even miss her yelling at me during her stupid mood swings. The nights have started blending together somewhat. People are trying to do search parties and things like that, but there's no use in doing that. Whoever is holding her, whoever is keeping her hostage has her hidden well for the sheer purpose of getting what they want. The thing I'm not allowed to give them. They sent a picture of her.

They sent a fucking picture after a few days of silence and I swear I forgot how to fucking breath. Every bit of kindness, and calm in my body was fucking gone, all I could feel was rage. She looked unharmed, but it was obvious she had been crying, that she was beaten mentally.

Her belly was swollen, and her eyes were as well. They had her tied up, and that was the worst part for me. The sight of seeing her so helpless but knowing she's not. The sight of seeing the strongest person I know beaten down to look as though she is weak. Jeffrey didn't want to show me the picture, he tried to keep it from me, and that's half the reason I haven't fucking spoken too him. Because I don't want to fucking speak to him or anyone for that matter right now. I want my El back. I want my kids back, I want to hold her again. I want to press my lips to hers, and then get on my knees in front of her and press my lips to her belly just as I did every single morning before she was taken from me.

I know I can't stay hidden forever.I need to move from my house, I need to do something about this, but I feel so fucking helpless right now. I move through our things, moving to her stuff to try and find an old tshirt of mine that she wore, that way I can smell her, feel like she's still beside me. I grab one of the soft shirts, pulling it over me, and looking at the stacks of books on the dresser.

I can read. I can read one of her favorite books, maybe feeling somewhat closer to her as I wait here for an update from someone, anyone.... I shuffle the books from the top to the bottom, looking for one in particular but my hands freeze, my fingertips touching the black leather. Feeling the memories seep through the cover of the book. I looked back at it from time to time, searching through the pages, reliving the first time I was on tour with her, but I haven't looked at it in months. I haven't read her letter in months, and I feel the bile rise in my throat knowing this is the closest thing I have to her right now. I move quickly, sinking down on my own bathroom floor and emptying my hardly full stomach into the toilet.

I'm exhausted. I'm fucking exhausted. My sleeping patterns off, my time completely warped and transformed. I've been without her before. I've spent days, weeks, and months without El, but none of them have felt like this. Because for once in this relationship, for once in our lives together we both felt completely normal and comfortable. We had gone so long without serious fights, or break ups, or miscommunication. Since before the last tour we had been perfect, and of course her finding out about the twins was a bit rocky, but we never fell from the tracks.

I was so comfortable I didn't even think being without her was a possibility, I didn't want to... I didn't remember what it felt like being without my El. I didn't remember what it felt like, and I never experienced what it was like having someone you'd do anything for being ripped away from you without warning. Not even so much as a sign passed me by, and now she's fucking gone.

My head hangs, and my forehead presses to my arms as I grasp onto the toilet bowl, the helpless shaking in my chest not stopping. I'm so fucking scared. I'm scared that there might be a chance she won't be walking through our front door again. That I took every bit of her for granted. I know if she was to never come back I know I didn't show her I loved her enough. I know that there was so much more I could have done to give her everything she dreamed of, but I took it all for granted. I'm so fucking scared, and I tried so hard to not let that fear consume me.