The Beast (Harry Styles)

Chapter Eleven

A couple days passed since Harry almost died,

And Adeline has yet to leave his side.

She feels terrible, blaming herself;

But Harry believes her guilt should be left on a shelf. . .

~.~

I stayed with Harry for two days in his medical center within the castle. I didn't get to marvel at the fact that he actually had a miniature hospital equipped with medical personnel always just casually on staff; his critical condition was more important to me.

Not being able to bring myself from his room, I slept on a couch to make sure everything was fine. I made sure to see if he needed warmer clothes or blankets, what he needed to eat, and seeing that he didn't suddenly take a turn for the worse.

Harry was being treated for mild cases of hypothermia and frostbite, along with the cuts on his chest and arm. All day he would sit in bed under blankets, with the occasional changing of his bandages. He would sit up when this happened or for eating and using the bathroom.

He was aware for the most part; but whenever Harry tried to talk, there seemed to be nothing he had to say. There was an unspoken agreement between us, that we wouldn't speak of what happened.

I sensed that Harry was ashamed of what happened, what he did, but he shouldn't be; I believed Harry was completely justified in his reaction. It was I that should be ashamed, but that didn't even describe the remorse I felt.

I felt as though I was a five year old who'd been given such a simple instructions from their mother, to stay put on the old wooden bench in the market while she looked at fruits. But I had gotten antsy sitting, and I started fidgeting. Then I saw they had a candy shop just next store. Even though I wasn't supposed to leave the bench nor was I allowed to have candy, my curiosity of the possible sugary treats overpowered my mother's voice. So I left the bench and entered the shop, ultimately almost giving my mother a heart attack and received a speech on what could have happened. Yet when we would get home, I'd still get a treat because my mother would realize I was only still a child.

I wish I could say this situation had ended with apple juice and fruit snacks.

Instead I wasn't a child; sure, I was only seventeen, but I should know better. And my apple juice and fruit snacks were more like broccoli and carrot juice.

I looked around the hospital room one more time.

The walls were a soft blue with white tiles. Wooden counters and shelves covered most of the wall, but right above Harry's bed was a medical poster listing symptoms of different medical conditions. I sat in a wooden chair, a grey sofa or my bed behind me. Harry sat in standard, uncomfortable hospital bed. There was a window above him to his right, but the shade was down, leaving the sickening, unflattering fluorescent lights in the room.

Harry was asleep, his mouth parted slightly open, and his hair falling on his face. His long body managed to curl up in a fetal position. He looked so young and vulnerable.

Standing up to check the time on the clock just outside, I walked to the door and opened it slightly. Peeking my head out, I noticed it was close to noon; Mrs. Potter told me that Harry's "council members" would be coming to visit at noon, finally getting the chance with the snow storm gone and the snow taken care of on roads.

I was nervous, since I had never meet them; though I assumed the council members were the men that Harry came with when I entered the West Wing, but I wasn't sure.

Were they informed of the whole story? Did they blame me? Would they hate me because of it?

They were such trivial questions and thoughts, but I couldn't help but think of them.