~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
TW- this chapter continues from the last so talks of suicide attempts, self harm, blood, seizures and depression.
as always, look after yourself... i promise it gets lighter after this <3
November 8th
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"Are you asleep?"
Ingrid lays beside me in the bed that neither of us are actually asleep in.
Both staring at the ceiling in complete silence, the two of us breathe heavily.
"No," I sigh in reply. "Do you think Harry is asleep?"
"I doubt it," She mumbles back, turning over in the bed and laying on her side to face me. "I bet he's more awake than we are,"
Running my hand over my face, I sit up a little and tap my phone on the nightstand to see the time.
1:12 am
No new messages
My stomach twists and I try to not think about the fact that I don't know how my sister is doing currently in the hospital.
The last I heard, she still wasn't responding to stimuli and doctors were working to get her consciousness back as well as flushing her system clean of the toxic mix of pills and whiskey that she took yesterday.
Ingrid runs her hand down my chest comfortingly just as a loud bang comes from Harry's room down the hall.
"Should I go and check on him?"
Pressing her lips together, Ingrid nods once and then leans in to kiss my cheek as I start to stand up from the bed.
Throwing my covers off my body, I sit up and let myself adjust to being sat up in the dark room. Bending down, I reach for my T-shirt and throw it over my body as I stand up and head towards the door.
Following the muted sound of clattering, I tread down the hall and softly knock on the bedroom door.
There is no reply but the noise continues behind the wood and so I gently open the door and peek around the door to check that everything is okay.
My heart almost shatters at the sight of Rory and Nola curled up together in Sunday's and Harry's bed. Amos is laying at the foot of the bed in a woven bassinet.
But Harry, he is nowhere to be seen.
While the girls are sound asleep, no doubt exhausted from the day's mentally draining events. But Mosi was fussing in his bassinet. His arms flap around as he starts grumbling from the noises that are coming from the en-suite bathroom.
"Hey, dude," I whisper as not to wake the girls up as I approach him and lift him from his spot. Cradling him in my arms, I put his pacifier back in his mouth and rub up and down his back with small taps. "Where's your daddy? Huh?" I mumble.
