Chapter 13

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Chapter 13

It’s different when Harry’s dreaming. It’s all bright skies, loving eyes, and lingering caresses. When Harry dreams, he sees Niall’s gentle, kind smile and wide, knowing eyes, and he feels cold fingertips grazing his neck and cheeks. Harry’s never been normal, not really, and he took medications for depression and his mother signed him up for different classes to be less introverted; he’s always dreamt in vivid color and had the ability to control his actions and remember it the next day in great detail. But the dreams he was immersed in weren’t dreams, but discolored, choppy images, flashes of color and pictures like Polaroid’s, crazily disjointed. He’d tried to scream with a soundless howl, try to run with cinder block feet, and try to swim but sink like a brick. There was no escape, as the IV in his arm slowly dripped itself dry, less erythematic, as it came down to the final ounces of liquid hallucinogenic.  

In then it was all over, and the horrible, torturous testing was over for that day and a man slowly slid the needle out of Harry’s tender elbow skin, unwrapped the tourniquet, and covered the small pin-prick with an ace bandage. A nurse came in and sponge bathed Harry, washed his greasy curls with baby wash, and brushed his teeth with a standardized hospital toothbrush. In then they redressed him, rebuffed him, and sent him on his way.

Harry’s thoughts were very fragmented as they herded him down a long, white tiled hallway. The fluorescent lights burn Harry’s eyes, the pupils blown so wide the green is nothing but color on both sides of a black slit.

         Lights

                Owww Owww Owww

It Hurts

              Fingers Wiggles

Cold Toes  

                              Please

Please

        I Don’t Want To Walk Any Longer

Niall?

               Niall?

Blond hair?

                 Blue eyes?

Please

        It’s All Much Too Bright

Help Me

      Help

Please

The man dragging Harry down the hallway stops him, and pushes open a section of the door. And there’s the boy. That boy he keeps dreaming of.

    Blue Eyes.

             Blond Hair.

Pale Skin.

          Bruises.

He Loves Me.

It’s flashes like poloroids.

“Harry!” Niall screams, he stumbles warily to his feet.

“N-“

A/N/: Hey, Loves(;

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