Status: Co-write
Secrets
Harry
My eyes don’t want to open at all this morning. My eyelids feel super heavy, weighed down by all the drugs I've been given for the pain that never seemed to leave my side. Although breathing got slightly easier in the past day, the improvement really is slight. Minuscule, even. But then again, the improvement could be from the drugs more than actual healing.
When I wake up, I expect to find everyone sitting around me, probably sleeping in chairs. That’s what always happens in movies and television and stuff. People are too nervous and worried about the person they loved being hurt in the hospital.
But no. The place is fucking empty.
“Wow, I feel so adored,” I mutter bitterly, rolling my eyes.
Next to my bedside table, there is a little piece of paper, folded into thirds. Wincing and bracing myself for the pain, I reach over and pluck it up.
Once the sharp sensation subsides, I unfold the thing, my eyes already scanning the paper, desperate to read what it said.
And then, I wish I hadn’t. My stomach rolls and bile rushes up my throat as I read the words again and again.
Why is this happening? Surely, this note must be some kind of sick joke. Like the time Louis tricked me into thinking the producer of Nickelodeon was in labor. I nearly keeled over when he did that.
Although, when that happened, I felt scared, but I was ready to take on the challenge. Now, with the words I’m reading, I feel so hopeless and pathetic. I can’t believe I was too busy sleeping to keep her here.
My thoughts are absolutely racing when the door opens, and the rest of the boys from the band pile in. Niall’s hands are overflowing with food that looks like it came from a vending machine, while the other boys just have cups of coffee.
“Mmmm,” Louis coos as he takes a sip of the cup in his hand before grimacing. “I just love hospital coffee.”
“Me, too,” Zayn agrees. “It’s not burnt or watery at all!”
“Wow, let’s just complain about the coffee instead of being concerned with the boy lying in the hospital bed who almost died the other day,” I grumble sarcastically.
The boys look over, their faces surprised. “Oh, good morning, mate,” Liam greets with a smile. “We didn’t realize you were up.”
“I noticed.” I roll my eyes in irritation. “And why the fuck did no one tell me about this?”
“’Bout what?” Louis questions slowly. But his eyes give away his secret. I know that he understands exactly what’s pissing me off; he just doesn’t want to say anything.
“About this,” I snap as I crumple up the note and throw it at them.
It hits against Louis’ chest and tumbles to the ground before he can catch it. He reaches down to pick it up, mumbling to himself about what a little shit I am, and flattens it back out to its original size, absorbing the words into his mind.
His face blanches, and I know he’s read to the dreaded part. Liam and Zayn notice his change in coloring and flank him on either side to read what he has.
“Holy shit,” Liam expresses, his eyes turning into saucers. “She left.”
“Don’t play dumb,” I hiss. I can feel my heart start to race as my blood boils with intense anger. I try to slow my pulse, knowing that the alarms are going to go off and signal the nurses to enter because I’m in distress, but I can’t manage it, and I can’t think clearly enough to care. “I know that you guys know something about her leaving. There’s no way she could just leave and not tell anyone.”
“I swear, I don’t know anything,” Louis swears, his eyes completely sincere. “I thought it was strange that she wasn’t here when we all got here.”
I want to get up, to track her, to follow her to wherever the hell she went. But I can’t move. Even my rapid breathing is sending waves of pain over my body. The thought of getting up is so frightening that I feel nauseas just thinking about it.
I gnaw on my lip, my anger giving way to sadness. “I want her back here,” I express in as steady a voice as I can muster.
“I know,” Louis empathizes. He comes over to my bed and pats my hand a couple of times. “I know you do.”
But he can’t have any clue how much I’m freaking out. Of all the times to be confined to a hospital bed…
When I wake up, I expect to find everyone sitting around me, probably sleeping in chairs. That’s what always happens in movies and television and stuff. People are too nervous and worried about the person they loved being hurt in the hospital.
But no. The place is fucking empty.
“Wow, I feel so adored,” I mutter bitterly, rolling my eyes.
Next to my bedside table, there is a little piece of paper, folded into thirds. Wincing and bracing myself for the pain, I reach over and pluck it up.
Once the sharp sensation subsides, I unfold the thing, my eyes already scanning the paper, desperate to read what it said.
And then, I wish I hadn’t. My stomach rolls and bile rushes up my throat as I read the words again and again.
Why is this happening? Surely, this note must be some kind of sick joke. Like the time Louis tricked me into thinking the producer of Nickelodeon was in labor. I nearly keeled over when he did that.
Although, when that happened, I felt scared, but I was ready to take on the challenge. Now, with the words I’m reading, I feel so hopeless and pathetic. I can’t believe I was too busy sleeping to keep her here.
My thoughts are absolutely racing when the door opens, and the rest of the boys from the band pile in. Niall’s hands are overflowing with food that looks like it came from a vending machine, while the other boys just have cups of coffee.
“Mmmm,” Louis coos as he takes a sip of the cup in his hand before grimacing. “I just love hospital coffee.”
“Me, too,” Zayn agrees. “It’s not burnt or watery at all!”
“Wow, let’s just complain about the coffee instead of being concerned with the boy lying in the hospital bed who almost died the other day,” I grumble sarcastically.
The boys look over, their faces surprised. “Oh, good morning, mate,” Liam greets with a smile. “We didn’t realize you were up.”
“I noticed.” I roll my eyes in irritation. “And why the fuck did no one tell me about this?”
“’Bout what?” Louis questions slowly. But his eyes give away his secret. I know that he understands exactly what’s pissing me off; he just doesn’t want to say anything.
“About this,” I snap as I crumple up the note and throw it at them.
It hits against Louis’ chest and tumbles to the ground before he can catch it. He reaches down to pick it up, mumbling to himself about what a little shit I am, and flattens it back out to its original size, absorbing the words into his mind.
His face blanches, and I know he’s read to the dreaded part. Liam and Zayn notice his change in coloring and flank him on either side to read what he has.
“Holy shit,” Liam expresses, his eyes turning into saucers. “She left.”
“Don’t play dumb,” I hiss. I can feel my heart start to race as my blood boils with intense anger. I try to slow my pulse, knowing that the alarms are going to go off and signal the nurses to enter because I’m in distress, but I can’t manage it, and I can’t think clearly enough to care. “I know that you guys know something about her leaving. There’s no way she could just leave and not tell anyone.”
“I swear, I don’t know anything,” Louis swears, his eyes completely sincere. “I thought it was strange that she wasn’t here when we all got here.”
I want to get up, to track her, to follow her to wherever the hell she went. But I can’t move. Even my rapid breathing is sending waves of pain over my body. The thought of getting up is so frightening that I feel nauseas just thinking about it.
I gnaw on my lip, my anger giving way to sadness. “I want her back here,” I express in as steady a voice as I can muster.
“I know,” Louis empathizes. He comes over to my bed and pats my hand a couple of times. “I know you do.”
But he can’t have any clue how much I’m freaking out. Of all the times to be confined to a hospital bed…
♠ ♠ ♠
:o