How to Save a Life

Chapter 12

"And I pray to god he hears you."

Harry's POV

Harry didn't see Louis for four weeks. He didn't leave his bed for two weeks. He went downstairs in the morning, said a hello, barely ate and then walked slowly to school. He barely spoke to Liam and Niall, until they stopped trying. It wasn't like he wanted to push his friends away, they just never had anything to talk about anymore. The process repeated everyday. On the weekends he just lied in bed, usually on his phone, or sleeping. 

March came Louis didn't wake up. Harry refused to see him. He told himself that when Louis woke up, then he would go see him. He knew that if he walked into the Louis' hospital room, seeing his limp bruised form, the guilt would suffocate him. 

Spring break came in the middle of March and Harry cracked his window to give his room less of a cave sense. A low beam of soft sunlight hit his legs during the days and at night he could hear the sound of crickets as they lulled him to sleep.

"Harry."

Harry didn't move. His mom whispered his name again. He still didn't move. He was lying away from her, facing his window. It was barely dusk, a soft beam of pale evening sun shone onto his bed. Hopefully she would think he's asleep and leave. She didn't. "Harry i know you're awake. please talk to me."

"Is he awake?" he asked, his voice was hoarse.

He heard her sigh and knew his answer.

"no but-"

"then i'm not really in the mood to talk."

Harry knew he was being rude and he didn't want to be, but he just had no energy anymore. He missed Louis so much that it hurt and everyday was spent with crippling anxiety wondering if he would get a call that Louis had stopped breathing again, or that he was brain dead. He loved his mom, but he would rather deal with the guilt on his own. 

Anne left without a word. He knew she wasn't mad, just disappointed. Harry was disappointed too. 

Harry rolled back over, flipping his pillow to the cool side and sinking into it. He let himself relax slowly into the cool sheets beneath him, letting sleep take over.

...

Harry woke up on the bridge. 

He was immediately struck with how cold he was. It felt like little icicles were piercing him all over. How did he even get here? Hadn't he fallen asleep in his bed? He looked down to see what he was wearing. Anxiety pooled into his stomach. 

He was wearing the clothes of the night he met Louis for the first time. But they were covered in blood. Thick, dark red blood. It was pooling, running slowly down Harry's arms, dripping off his fingers and bouncing on the icy road. Why was there always so much blood.

He blinked slowly, lifting his hand up to his face. The blood looked like it was coming from him, forming under his shirt to spread down his fingers. But he wasn't in pain. The anxiety turned to panic and he tried to wipe off the blood on his fingers on his shirt. His breathing increased and turned rapid when the blood didn't stop, he almost tore off the shirt when he heard something behind him. 

He spun around, little droplets of blood spraying off of him and gasped. 

His knees felt weak as he watched Louis stumble down the road. He was bleeding just as Harry was, fingers dripping with the red liquid. Harry watched him stumble to the right, almost falling over but steadying himself shakily on the bridge.