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He’s gone. Oh my fucking God, he’s gone. Over and over, I have to tell myself that daily so I won’t wait for him to come home or stop by his office at work. There’s a lot I wish I hadn’t done, and, sometimes, I wish I never meet him. I wish that I had just went to jail, taken my 16 months or whatever, gotten out, and just fucking move on. Sometimes, I wish that I had just ignored the man standing outside the police station; pretend I didn’t hear him say my name, and just go home. Sometimes I wish that I had let him knock me out with that umbrella just so I could wake up and never have a memory of him. Sometimes, I wish that when I failed the test, I just went home, with JB, and gone to sleep. Sometimes, I wish that I never looked at that that fucking laptop and watched him get shot. I wish I had kept myself busy with missions, never going home, just so I couldn’t see him again. I wish I hadn’t kissed him that one day. I wish I hadn’t spent the night at his house, practically living there before I actually moved in. Sometimes I wish that I had killed myself when I was 15.
Do I really want that though? I guess I don’t. I want to have those memories forever and never let them go. At the same time, I wish that I could just erase my memory, find a nice guy or girl to settle down with, have a kid or two, and die happy with them, but, I can’t have that anymore. I can’t just go and find someone else to love. I can’t do that because when he died, my fucking heart died with him. The only person that I love now, that is still alive, is Daisy, my beautiful baby sister who is growing into a lovely young woman. My little flower was blooming and she would soon be out of the house, off to school probably, and I’ll be really alone then.
It was cancer that killed him. A fucking tumor that turned into another that turned into another. I slept on a hospital bed with him whenever he wanted me to and it was a tight fit, but I want to be there too. After a while, the nurses gave up scolding us and just asked me to move when they checked his vitals. When there was nothing else to do, we got a hospital bed in the living room, and slept there. We still went on walks, even though I was the only one walking. We ate dinner together, even though I only ordered for one. I watched the once big, powerful, strong man wither away until he didn’t was a small, pale, weak person; the most heart breaking thing I have ever witnessed. One day, he didn’t wake up. I shook him, yelling at him to wake up, crying, and yelling. The stubborn bastard never did simply because he couldn’t. I cursed him for leaving me here, moving on without me. I screamed at him for coming into my life and leaving just like everyone else.
And then I was silent. I didn’t talk for months, not to anyone, not even Daisy. I gave her soft smiles, hug, kisses, but never a word. Not until she sat down on my lap and started talking about him, all of the good and bad memories that she had of him. I cried into her soft yellow hair and apologized for shutting her out for so long. She helped me get up, helped me eat, and got me back on a schedule. She has always been my savior, but this was something else.
That’s it, I guess. I fell in love with a man twice my age named Harry Hart and he loved me too. I fell in love with a man who turned my life upside down and did everything to make everything better. He’s dead now, has been for x amount of years, I don’t keep count. I used to, I lost count a long time ago. Long story short, I love Harry Hart, and I… I…
-Eggsy