fifty nine.

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   Whenever my mother calls, I panic. I get anxious, my heart fights its way to escape my chest, my hands start to tremble. For this year of 2015, my mother has called my phone a total of three times. The first was my birthday; I had Harry answer it. The second was a month ago while I was in Indiana with the boys; she hung up on me. The third is right now; I'm watching it ring.

I'm alone in Harry and I's hotel room because I got to Philadelphia at almost four this morning after my long flight from London. Him and the boys are at soundcheck, so I'm completely alone right now.

It's midday. I fell asleep at eight after proclaiming that I'd fight jet lag. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work out. However now I'm awake four hours later because of this damn phone. It has rung twice already. The first was what initially woke me. The second, I watched it ring out. I saw the screen come on, then the loud sound following. I just sat there and watched it ring five times before the screen went black again.

The third is at it's second ring. I feel like I should pick it up now. She wouldn't call me three times in a row like this if it wasn't important. She is fully aware that we aren't on speaking terms unless it's an emergency.

Shit.

"Okay," I start speaking to myself, "Pick up the phone."

I repeat that in my head quickly. Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone.

"Fuck."

I grab the device when the fourth ring goes off and slide the button, saying curse words in every language I know in my head.

"Mother?" I answer the phone and I hear some noise in the background.

"Hayley, finally." she mutters into the phone. "I've been trying to call you for the last ten minutes and you wouldn't pick up."

Jesus, is this going to be another one of those calls where she's just picking a fight?

"Sorry, I was asleep." My voice comes out smaller than I anticipated because I don't have the energy right now.

"Asleep? Aren't you in the States?" she questions immediately and I sigh.

I get up from the edge of the bed where I was seated and start pacing the length of floor at the foot of the bed. "Yeah, but I only got in early this morning."

"Okay." she says simply and then there's a few seconds of silence in which I stop pacing and wrack my brain in confusion. This call has been kind of pointless thus far- "Your father is in the hospital."

I feel my lips part in shock and instead of continuing my pace I take a seat on the bed again. She called to tell me that news and instead of leading with it she decided to ask why I was still asleep at this hour?

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