Ghost Writer [Harry Styles][H.S. Fanfic]

17 - BRUISED BUT NOT BROKEN

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(HARRY'S POV)

The rhythmic pulsing of a heart monitor machine and the soothing caress of something running along the length of my jaw stirs me awake. Peeling my eyes open one by one, I'm briefly blinded by the florescent lights of the hospital room as I lift my head off Sunny's left thigh, which is resting on the edge of the mattress. I blink away the haze from my exhaustion-induced slumber before my focus zeros in on my favorite pouty smile, belonging to a very sedated Sunny.

After essentially dragging her to the emergency room, we were almost immediately spotted by a fan in the waiting area. I was so worried about her that I'd completely spaced us being in a public setting. With luck on our side, the triage nurse rang security after check-in and had us escorted to the VIP floor, much to Sunny's dismay.

At the risk of sounding narcissistic, I was a bit thrown when my namedrop wasn't enough to permit me after-hour visiting privileges since I'm not family. So, you know Sunny - being the clever rebel that she is - covertly moved her gold-banded diamond and ruby ring from the middle to her marriage finger on her left hand and lied to the nurse, saying I was her fiancé.

Once she realized what she just did - picking up on the nurse's bewildered expression - Sunny apologized profusely for whatever headline was about to come out about me. I reassured her, and to lighten the mood, I joked that it definitely wouldn't be the worst article I've had written about me. In all honesty, I don't think I'd mind seeing that rumor float around to get an idea of how my fanbase would react to that news. Contrarily, I'm positive it'd piss off Sunny because it could risk her anonymity.

Shortly after returning from having multiple scans run and cleared for not having a concussion, Sunny passed out from the painkillers with her fingers knotted in my hair with an iron grip. I followed along about fifteen minutes later. Apart from being worn out in the absolute worst way, it's also because even in her unconscious state, her hand refused to ease up on its clutches - like I was her safety blanket she required to fall asleep.

The doctor came in and woke us up about an hour ago, but Sunny was too loopy from the meds they put her on. So, being her appointed fiancé for the night, I was provided the results of her injuries to relay later on. Despite her best efforts, it took the doctor a moment to collect herself from a fit of giggles when I tried sitting up in my chair to look at her straight on, and Sunny yanked my head right back down before her soft snores resonated throughout the room.

When I learned the extent of what Jack did to her, I was tempted to ask the doctor to sedate me as well; but thankfully I passed out again after she left. I didn't want to sit and fester with this knowledge on my own, feeling like a red-hot dagger speared straight through my chest until it was time to get discharged. I don't know how I'm going to handle seeing Sunny's reaction when I have to tell her. Although, I'm sure she has her suspicions, sometimes hearing it out loud makes everything more real.

It's like that life raft of denial we cling to gets ripped away. And then the rest is up to us. We either swim against the raging current and fight to survive the storm... or we allow our hardships to pull us under, dragging us deeper into the abyss until the essence of who we were simply fades into a distant memory.

That being said, I don't have long to figure out how I'm going to break the news now that Sunny's grinning at me, high as a bloody kite.

"You're so pretty. Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?" Her slurred speech is proof enough of how drugged up she is as she boops the tip of my nose with her finger before she throws her non-slinged hand up like she just remembered something important.