SOFT SPOT// h.s

4.9 ~ more than life itself

I didn't know what to do with myself as the hospital doors burst open and the nurses came flooding around him, wheeling him away before I could even whisper a goodbye.

As I sat in the waiting room, I wrapped my arms around my trembling body, unable to control the paranoia that kept rising within me.

He's alive. He's alive. He's going to be okay. I kept trying to reassure myself, but I couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach that felt like dread.

Out of all the faces that appeared in the waiting room, it was Gemma's fallen expression that broke me.

Her lips were white and her face was deathly pale as the doctor announced that her brother was in a coma. His grave face and furrowed brow told it all before he even had to speak.

I felt my heart shattering as I thought, how could anything possibly be any worse than this?

"I'm very sorry, but he is in a coma," the doctor announced apologetically.

I didn't even think about what I was doing before I laced my fingers with Gemma's and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Every member of her immediate family was now lost, in some sense. I knew I had to at least try to be strong for her, but how could I? When my own heart was shattered into broken shards that sliced easily and cut deep? When my own sanity was almost at the point of losing it? I just couldn't understand.

To say that the past week or so had been hectic, was the understatement of the century. After crying down the phone to my father, telling him to announce to everyone that the wedding was off, I proceeded to make my way back to my parents house, where I flopped down on my bed and didn't get up for four days.

I awoke each morning by the melodic sounds of the birds chirping an ensemble of songs and the sun throwing honey gold beams through the window. But I just pulled my pillow over my head after popping a few sleeping pills in my mouth.

I didn't go near the hospital for almost a week. I didn't want to hear about Harry. I was almost certain he'd die, or at the very least, wake up with amnesia.

I just didn't know how I could handle either of them.

It was selfish of me, to allow Gemma to grieve alone. Not only was her mother I'm a critical condition, but also her brother.

On the fifth day after the accident, my mother marched into my room at the mere break of dawn, yanking my bed covers off me and flinging the windows open, letting the late summer air filter into my bedroom.

"Momm," I complained grussily, shooting her a death glare before rolling over again. I barely had the energy to reach out and swat her away. I was a mess, that was for sure.

"It's been almost a week Clary! This is ridiculous!" She exclaimed as she shook me firmly. "You can either mope around or you can go and visit Harry in the hospital. Gemma needs you, and so does he."

"I don't want to, ok?" I snapped rudely.

"Just think, if the situation were reversed, would Harry leave your side?" She fired back, knowing that her argument was valid.

I shot her a death glare as she left the room, leaving the door wide open to my annoyance. "Can you fucking not?" I hissed irritably under my breath as I rolled out of bed, kicking the door closed again.

I reluctantly stepped into the shower and scrubbed myself clean. I didn't know how I was going to face the day, let alone deal with the sight of Harry hooked up to machines that kept him alive.

"Where are you going mommy?" Ellie asked curiously as I grabbed a cup of strong coffee at the kitchen table.

"Just going out baby, I'll be back soon," I replied, painting a reassuring smile on my face as I bent down to kiss her nose.