Fear of Falling

Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live

Dorothy Thompson

Epilogue

'Woo!!'

Katie screamed on the top of her lungs, swinging around a lamppost on the street corner not far from the small apartment she had been living in since graduating the month before. Her friends Alicia and Angelina joined her yelling, the trio slightly tipsy from their night out on celebration of Katie's new job of starting chaser for the Chudley Canons. Their laughter filled the empty street as they slowly made their way home.

'I can't believe you drank all that, Katie, and can still stand, let alone walk home!' Alicia exclaimed suddenly, talking about the amount of alcohol her friend had consumed that night.

'I know. She's drinks like a fish,' Angelina added with a laugh that caused another chorus of laughter to fill the sweet summer air.

'It's a gift,' Katie replied, sticking her tongue as she swung around the lamppost once again before jumping off with the grace of a gazelle.

'We'll see you tomorrow, Katie,' Alicia said as they came to the corner of the street.

'Yeah, bye,' Angelina added before the pair went one direction and Katie headed the other.

As she walked, Katie found herself humming to herself, the song of the school she had recently left. The memories of her time floated around her head, distorted as the amount of alcohol started to take its toll on her.

'Congratulations,' a deep voice said from behind her, causing her to jump a little and start to panic until the dark figure stepped out of the shadows and into the artificial orange glow of a street lamp.

'Oliver?' she asked, squinting to see if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

'That's my name,' he replied, giving her the same smile that she remembered; the smile he smiled in her dreams. 'Missed me?'

'Miss me?' Katie asked, cocking an eyebrow as she refused an answer.

'Every day,' he replied, and it was by the pain she could see in his eyes that told her that his answer was genuine.

'Then I guess maybe I did . . . A little,' she answered slowly, looking at her feet as she did so.

'Then what went wrong?' he asked. She looked slowly up, catching his eyes, falling deeper and deeper into the swirls of brown until she had the sense to pull away before she couldn't get out again and went back to staring at her feet.

'I guess it got too real and I panicked. I was only sixteen, Oliver, and it was a big commitment.'

'But you're not sixteen anymore, Katie, and I know it's big, but it's wonderful. I love you. Isn't that enough?'

'I – I don't know what to say . . .' she said slowly, pushing some hair away from her face and tucking it behind her hair before looking up again. 'But one thing I know is that if I let you go again I could be making the biggest mistake of my life. I love you, Oliver.'

X

The next morning, as soon as she had awoke Katie noticed that a few things were different that they usually were. Firstly, the sheets on the bed weren't the ones usually on the bed, washed so many times with cheep washing up powder that all softness had left them leaving her with a rough pile that made it feel like she was sleeping on a pile of stray. Secondly, and probably most importantly, she clothes were currently strewn across the room and not on her, as they should be. And thirdly, when she rolled over on the bed—as was part of her usual morning routine to wake up—she didn't, as she should have, fall painfully onto the cold wooden floor, but instead found herself still safely in bed. It was then she realised that things were very wrong.

Her eyes opened and her pupils darted around her unknown surroundings, looking for a clue to tell her where she was. It wouldn't have taken Sherlock Homes to work that out; quidditch posters covered one wall along with newspaper articles, the other two walls that were in her line of vision were painted a very tasteful white, with a fireplace on the wall in front of her made out of black marble. On top of it sat only one thing though; a plain, but stylish, silver photo frame in which she was shocked to see herself staring out of, except she was a few years younger and, judging by the smile that took over her whole face, had been taken just after they had won the Quidditch Cup.

'Shit,' she whispered as she realised where she was.

Slowly she turned around, trying to make as little noise as possible, but it didn't matter. She found herself facing an empty side of the bed that, by the looks of it, had been empty for a while. The sheets had been smoothed down and the pillow fluffed up to perfection, which was much unlike the man she used to know who would leave clothes lying everywhere and only tied up if it was a necessity. She couldn't help but wonder what he had become.

Without rushing herself, Katie extracted her clothes from around the room and proceeded to getting dressed. Her memories from the previous night came flooding back to her and she remembered all the promised her had made her and at the time she had believed them, but now she could see sense; they were empty promised used so that he could get what he wanted.

She wanted to stay; wanted to start a life with him, but deep down she knew that her life would be just like this; waking up to a cold bed every morning and drowning her sorrows with alcohol until she could no longer remember what had happened before forgiving him once again, and a routine would be set. A routine she refused to fall into it she could help it.

Searching thought the drawers of the writing desk in the corner, she quickly removed some parchment, a bottle of ink and a badly battered quill, but it would have to do. She dipped the quill into the ink and carefully so as to avoid splattering ink on the page began to write. Finally, she closed the bottle on ink and replaced it and the quill into the drawer and then sealing the piece of parchment and leaving it on top of the writing desk.

X

It was with reluctance that Oliver had left that morning for practice, but knew that if he called in sick he risked loosing his job since the biggest match of his career was only days away. He decided to do something extra nice for Katie to make up for leaving her, picking up a bunch of yellow roses, her favourite type of flowers, from a small florist on his way home as a surprise. He fumbled as he tried to open the door, trying to both hold the flowers and open the door with the key, but eventually he succeeded.

'I'm home,' he called as he opened the door to his flat, expecting to see her sitting in the living room, curled up on the sofa reading one of the many books on his large bookcase, but when he saw she wasn't he wasn't phased.

Searching thought the rooms he finally came to the bedroom. His last stop. He slowly turned the handle, wanting to prolong the moment, before throwing the door opened. However, what he found was not when he had expected.

An empty room. She wasn't there.

The flowers dropped to the floor as he released, ignoring the small thud they made as they landed on the carpeted floor and walked slowly forward. Half of the bed was unmade, the sheets wrinkled and twisted; he bit back the urge to tidy them, something he would never have even thought of doing a few years ago, but that was one of the many things that had changed because of her. He was tidier now and more organised, purely because he wanted to be the man he thought she wanted.

It was then that he noticed something that was out of place; a piece of parchment sitting on the desk instead of piled up neatly in the drawer with the rest. He picked it up, and was about to throw it into the drawer when he noticed that on the front, written in fancy script was 'Oliver.'

Katie's fancy script.

He opened it carefully so as not to rip it, and read it. He read it once quickly, but the words didn't sink in as he concentrated on the loops of her g's and the flicks on her t's. Her read it again, looking at the words she had so carefully wrote. And a third time, this time reading it with more care, but still not fully understanding. A fourth time, not believing when he had read. A fifth, still in denial. A sixth, just to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks. A seventh, because seven in the magic number.

She was gone.

X

Dear Oliver, she wrote.

By the time you get this I'll be long gone. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I had to go. This isn't the life for me and, as much as I want to make it work, I can't, because I know that that decision would just cause more pain. I don't want to hurt you, Oliver, and although it might hurt now, with time the pain will lessen.

I'm sorry for every ounce of pain I ever caused you; every tear I made you cry; every sleepless night that was brought on by my stupid, reckless and downright selfish actions. I never meant any of it and if I could take them all back I would. But I can't.

I don't want to make this any harder that it already is, so I'm going to stop writing now.

Love,

Katie.

The End

So, what'd you think? Review & let me know. xD This wasn't how I'd originally planned it to end; the original was much happier, but I'm happier with this one xD Hope you enjoyed it!

Thanks to theessenceofmurtlap for the review.

I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed; who gave me the motivation to carry on. You guys and girls rock!

Now, do you think I should write a sequel? If I do, anything you'd like to see in it? Anyone? Review & let me know!