Zayn Malik's Long Lost Sister (Unedited)

63. Hospital

~Zayn's POV~
Marley laid still on a hospital cot, tubes of liquid embedded into her arms and wires on her chest to keep track of her beating heart.

A coma.

A fucking coma.

The hospital only allowed four people in this room at a time, but mum and I refused to leave to let more people in. First was Safaa and dad, then Doniya and Waliyha. Grandma and grandpa. Gloria. Even Liam and his mum.

It's been three days that we've been here. And the hours seemed to drag on to feel like forever, which blends the days into feeling like an eternity.

I just wanted Marley to wake up and be okay.

Yesterday, I was frantic and I couldn't stop pacing, today I'm waiting for a text to come in so I can finally feel as if I'm doing something.

"Many coma patients wake to the sound of something familiar; a voice, a sound."

Those words that the doctor had told me to calm me, repeated in my head all day yesterday until I finally got the courage to do anything. The people that have come to the hospital to visit her, they spoke but she didn't respond in any way.

Mum hasn't spoken, however. Everyone thinks that she's still in shock. All she's done was stare at Marley as if just the look alone, could wake her from this slumber.

Mum hasn't reached out to touch Marley or made any moves aside from the bathroom breaks she has to take. But she's too quiet. And it scares me.

Does she have no hope?

Right now; dad, mum, and myself are in the little room, surrounding Marley's bed.

She came out of that house bruised and cut up. A few deep gashes under her feet, a dislocated and bruised shoulder, burn marks speckled along her arms and a bit on her forehead.

I couldn't even begin to think how scared she must've been.

Mum didn't allow anyone to touch or make sure that she, herself, was alright. She was too worried for Marley.

"Marley," My father begins again. He sat beside her bed in the only chair that was left in this room, mum having stayed in the other. His hand slipped into Marley's and his head dipped low toward their linked hands. "Please wake up."

He's been asking her that, along with others, for three days now.

My eyes are swollen, red and puffy. My throat hosted a constant lump that's hard to swallow saliva around. My body hurt, raged with anything to do in order to wake Marley.

When my phone alerted me with a long awaited text, I shot from a slumped-against-the-wall position to one of being alert. I checked the text and before I could think of a response, I was out the door.

"I'll be back." I call behind me before jogging down the hall of the echoing hospital pathway.

The elevators took forever to go down, doctors and nurses, and other visitors like myself got on and got off. When we stopped on the third floor, I got out and found the nearest staircase.

My legs worked hard with trying to keep a rhythm but trying to work fast. The faster I get there to pick him up, the faster I can get back. This can't be too long of a shot.

I pushed against the door when I made it to the first floor of the hospital. I walked like I was on a mission, out of the main entrance glass doors and to my car, starting it up immediately. Without it warming up completely, I throw the car in drive and exit the parking lot.

As I drive, I thought of how I should've went in that house with mum. I could've helped and we all would've made it out better. At least, that's what I'd like to think.