Hi, this is the first piece of writing I've ever posted anywhere or even shown to anyone who isn't a teacher or marker of an exam. If it's awful and the characters are completely out of character then that's probably the reason why so please tell me just how bad it is seeing as I'm aware it probably isn't very good (there's a reason why I've never shown anyone) Anyway, I love Harry and Nikki and I'm devastated that Harry's leaving… did anyone else find their heart breaking at Emilia Fox introducing the new Silent Witness without any Harry or Tom Ward? Or was that just me? I'd better shut up because at this rate the author's note shall be longer than the writing itself.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the BBC
You curl your legs up to your chest, pulling them in close to your body, perhaps trying to conserve body heat, perhaps trying to build a wall in front of you so you can't be hurt again. Perhaps you're doing both and your legs are serving as a wall to protect you from everything; including heat. You don't really know if you're honest, you just know it makes you feel safer, less vulnerable. You rest your chin upon your knees, balancing it in the little dip the gap between your legs provides and you wrap your arms round your legs, trying desperately to pull your knees further in if possible as though creating reinforcements for your little wall. You try desperately not to cry, try to hold the tears in but you can feel them coming and no matter how tightly you clench your eyelids together you know the tears will fall eventually; all shutting your eyes does is prolong this event, prolong the inevitable stream of tears that will fall whether you like it or not.
Shutting your eye is like curling in your legs; they're action that form a useless barrier of sorts that at some point is going to have to come down, else you're trapped on that small park bench. Why didn't you choose a more comfortable bench? You ask yourself. Then you remember. This is your bench; yours and Harry's. This is the bench the two of you always go, the bench on which you talk, smile, laugh, eat, tease, fight. The bench where he first told you he was leaving; leaving go to America, to New York. The bench where he told you that a word before his name meant more than you, where you realised that a job was rated above you.
It was also where you realised that those thoughts were selfish; that Harry deserved to be happy. Happy with or without you. You supposed it was his choice but how you wish it wasn't; how you wish you could choose where Harry Cunningham went, how he worked, who he spoke to, who he loved. You wished he loved you but it was never going to happen; no matter how often you tried to fight your way into the part of his heart that allowed him to love you in a way that wasn't strictly platonic you knew you would always be just a friend; just a colleague or now, an ex-colleague. Nothing more, nothing less. You knew that to be loved in the way you wanted just wasn't possible because you were trapped in the friend category, at least until the unforeseeable future.
And when you realise this, that's when you break the wall; when you break both walls and find yourself in a heap on the cold hard ground in front of the bench crying your heart out, letting the tears break through the barriers, letting the cold in.
It probably isn't very good, I hope you understand it and it's just a small insight into Nikki's thoughts. I know there's no bench but I wanted there to be so I made one. Hope you enjoyed, please review and try to remember it's my first piece on here or on any site for that matter. Yes, that's my excuse for the lack of decent writing in this piece!
^Butterfly^
