I saw the blue eyes slowly fade and begin to lose their beautiful color that I loved so much. My hands were trembling to hold onto something that didn’t exist anymore. The life that was laid in my arms wasn’t a life anymore. Just a shell with beautiful blue eyes, a pale skin and thin muscles that resembled their owner.

He wasn’t there anymore and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t remember how. How was it possible that I was still alive and he wasn’t? My beautiful boy with hair blonde as ashes and hands so thin. I didn’t want to close his lids. That would confirm my worst nightmare. But I couldn’t run from it. It was there. Right in front of me. Screaming the truth in my face and I couldn’t handle that.

Death is strange. It can gather humans. It could divide humans. And it could kill even more. Death is something nobody should witness. Not even if the death that brings something good. Because with something good comes always something bad. And that bad thing is so hard to handle.

That’s how I felt when I embraced Niall’s dead body that morning in October. That’s how I felt when I saw the bullet pin its target. That’s how I felt when I saw the red blood dripping out of his mouth while he struggled for air. And when that target was Niall’s thin, scattered and exposed body in the autumn morning. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t. I’m convinced that Niall will come through that door at any second and laugh his beautiful laugh again and tell me everything was just a bad dream, and that he will take me from this terrific place. But he won’t and that’s what scares me the most, that’s why I’m placed in this room.

I’m telling you all this because this isn’t a story about how a 22 year old boy died in a tragically accident. This is a story about how hard it is for the near ones to keep their heads up, to struggle through the pain that sneaks into the chest every time they even think to laugh at something and about their guilt that torment them in an inhuman way.

My name is Harry Styles and this is my story.