After The End: Book 1

18. Unfortunately

Harry's POV

I woke up slowly. The first thing that I became conscious of was the ache in my chest. Then my head. I realized that my throat felt raw and dry. My eyes felt impossibly heavy. My arms were cold and I felt stinging pain running up the both of them. My fingertips felt numb. Beneath me I way laying on a firm mattress. I could hear beeping and smelled rubbing alcohol. I deduced that I must be in a hospital.

As my disorganized thinking tried to acknowledge all of my physical senses I became very aware that I must be awake. If I was awake that meant that I was alive. I hadn't died. This was always the worst part of almost dying. The not dying always filled me with such grotesque disappointments.

I could tell the room I was in was quiet. I was pretty sure I was alone. That at least was comforting. I hated waking up with someone there. There was always that little bit of crackhead in me that made me paranoid that I was being watched. And normally when I woke up in the hospital it was Louis looking at me disappointed.

At the thought of Louis my heart sped up. I could hear it on the monitor. If I was alone then where was he? What had happened? I suddenly recognized the aching pain in my forearm. The internal ache reminding me of what I'd done and why I'd done it. How had I gotten out of that bedroom? Where had Louis gone? What had been done to him?

As my thoughts became more erratic I felt more conscious and with consciousness came pain. My entire body hurt. My limbs here on fire. My chest felt heavy. My face felt swollen and tight with tension. Being awake and alive was excruciating. I cringed my eye brows together, squeezed my eyelids and then opened them.

The light was dim in the hospital room but the light shining in through the window was blinding. I blinked several times before anything broke through the blurriness into focus. I was right about it being a hospital room. I just stared up for a minute, waiting for the ceiling to stop spinning. I was dizzy, I realized. After a long moment I was able to make out the painted sky blue of the ceiling. The light was round and dim, but it still stung my eyes to look at it.

I wanted to sit up, but I knew it was going to hurt. I knew that using my arms would sting. Instead I turned my head to the side, finding the stiffness in my neck to be just as painful. I glanced towards the window and then looked away when the sunlight pierced my line of vision. On the other side of me, there was an end table that was completely barren except for a small photograph.

When I locked my sights on it my eyes widened. I ignored the impeding pain and fumbled to push myself up to grab it. Tubes and wires pulled uncomfortably on my shaky arms as I attempted to grab the photo off the table. I couldn't coordinate my limbs correctly and was having basic motor difficulties. I looked at my hands and couldn't focus on any single feature. My arms were exposed, including my decimated right arm that now sported a purple injury near my elbow. My slashed forearm was covered in an ugly depressive expression. It looked like a nurse had likely put something shiny on it. My vision started to swim again and I clutched the bed rail to keep the budding nausea down. The photo on the table looked up at me. I stared at it and realized just how quickened my breathing had gotten. There was a tube blowing air into my nostrils making my nose cold.

Don't freak out. The conscious thought felt fuzzy and almost got lost in the other thoughts. Why was I alive? Why was I alone here? Why was Emma's photo on the table? I stared at the picture and let my brain melt into it. It was going to be okay. Look at the sad baby. I wished so badly that her picture brought me more than just sorrow. I always hoped it would bring me some sense of motivation or passion but it always just hurt to look at. I wasn't anyone she could be proud of.

Now my eyes were getting blurry again and I realized my cheeks were dampening.

"Harry!" The voice broke through the monotony of the quiet room. I flinched, startled by the intrusion. I blinked hard once, then twice to clear the blur and then fixed my eyes on Niall sitting in the corner of the room sprawled out on a chair. He looked like he'd been asleep. Blonde hair stuck up in every direction on his head.. His eyes were concerned and he was looking at me intensely like I was a ghost. He stood up.