The Cult [h.s]

~eighteen~

"What can I say, What can I do
This is who I am and I am hurting you
What can I say, what can I do
No matter how strong my feelings are
I always end up hurting you"

~What can I say, Dead by April

Harry's POV

"Mr. Styles, I think you are good to go now." The words that were music to my ears were finally spoken by my dickhead of a doctor.

Mr. Wilson, who is my doctor, checks me one last time, more like observes me for the last time. Hopefully it's the last time. He has a clipboard gripped in his hands as he is checking all my injuries and writing them down there.

"Your injuries are still there though but you are fit and fine to go home." He gives a crooked smile to me.

Injury. I scoff at hearing that word. The fuck injury. It is just a small stab on my shoulder not some full blown heart attack.

And besides, I am always fit and fine. I mean look at me. I couldn't look much better.

There are still bandages and gauges all around my arms and chest. Not to mention a fucking big patch on my shoulder.

I get up from my hospital bed after what feels like a century. Well I did get up to go to the restroom but that is that. It is like they don't want me to move much.

I stand up and stretch my legs and hands, turning my neck left and right as if I am in a boxing ring going to bash my opponent in the head. Mr. Wilson, still standing at the corner of the room, writing on his clipboard and occasionally looking at my wild behaviour.

It feels like I have been released from a cage viz. this hospital room.

I have been staring at these white tiles and walls for two and a half days now. I am not a big fan of white things. I said to everyone who entered this room that I was good on the first day but no one agreed to discharge me. I didn't want to stay at this isolated shit hole. The wires were attached to my whole body as if my heart beat would slow down any second now and I would eventually die.

The nurses have placed my clothes on the table beside my bed for me to change out of this dingy hospital wear. Well the clothes that the nurses have brought for me aren't very good either. It is some bright yellow coloured shirt with dress pants. They are not at all my style. I am not gonna wear them.

I pick up my phone from the side table while the doctor is still in my room. What else does he want? Why isn't he going already?

I unlock my phone and search through my contacts for the only person's number I have since I arrived here. It is a risk but I don't wanna wear that yellow shit.

I tap on his name and write a text.

Me: get me a pair of clothes.

It is as if he was sitting on the phone, he replies instantly.

Louis: i don't remember when i started working for you?

Me: fuck off. just do what i said.

Louis: why?

For fuck sake. What the fuck is his problem?

Me: they have given me an ugly pair to wear back home.

Louis: in that case i would rather see you in those.

I am beyond infuriated now. I just want some fucking decent clothes for me. Why does he always have to be so annoying?