You can supply love in the same way you demand it. There can be too much, or not enough. Yet, when it meets in the perfect middle - the equilibrium - there's nothing more fulfilling.
Amelia Claxton is the epitome of a perfect student. Top of her cl...
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HARRY STYLES JANUARY 30TH, 2022
"Mr. Styles?"
A voice calls from somewhere but it's not the voice I want to hear.
"Mr. Styles, can you hear me?"
A different voice, but not her voice.
"I think he's passed out. Someone get a doctor here, stat!" The first voice bellows.
My eyes blink open. The room is bright. There is the smell of chemicals and a sterile feeling surrounding me.
"Wait, he's coming back. Mr. Styles, I need you to answer me, sir."
"Amelia? W-Where is Amelia?" I mutter.
I feel a pair of arms come under mine and pull me from the floor. I look down and notice I am still in my sweats that I was sleeping in. I feel myself fall into a hard chair and a middle aged woman wearing bright pink scrubs kneels in front of me.
"Mr. Styles, are you okay to answer me? Can you hear me?" She asks, softly.
It all seems to crash down on me in that instant. Hearing such a soft voice sent me back just a few hours ago. Where the scene before me being a nightmare came to life. My worst fears right in front of my eyes.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"
"It's-it's my girlfriend. She's unconscious. She's 36–no, 37 weeks pregnant. 37 weeks today. Please someone help her. Please, don't let me lose her."
There's something else in the memory of that 911 call but I have no idea what it could be.
"Where is she?" I shout to the nurse.
"Mr. Styles, we need you to calm down. Miss Claxton is being taken good care of by our obstetrics team now. If you just take a breath and calm down, I will take you up to see her."
I nod my head quickly, understanding what the nurse is saying. I take a deep breath, feeling my heart rate slow down. When I feel calm enough, I give the nurse a strong nod, ready to go see my girl.
We walk down the somber hallways, away from the small room I was just in. Everything over the last few hours is a blur. The only reason I can tell we've been here for a long time is that it's dark outside. I had found Amelia first thing this morning.
Have I been passed out this entire time? Or have I simply forgotten everything that's happened?
I hurry a few steps up to the nurse I am following and grab her arm gently. "Miss? Have I been in that room all day?"
She nods her head. "Mr. Styles, I think you must have gone into shock. When you came in with Miss Claxton in the ambulance, one of our ER nurses noticed you had a pretty bad cut on your foot. You were still in your slippers and they were covered in blood. When the nurse offered to take you to your own exam room to bandage you up and see if you'd need stitches, you seemed to have a panic attack. You were irate that we had taken Amelia to a trauma room and that you weren't permitted inside—"
