The Town Of Death (1D) (COMPLETED)

The Life and Death of Harry Styles

NOOOOOOOOO *whispers* it had to be done... The gif on the side I thought was quite fitting, due to this chapter and all the Zarry tears that shall be shed because of it. I'm kind of a jerk, aren't I? doing this to you guys...

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ZAYN POV↓↓

I should be listening. I should care what the doctor has to say, instead off sitting here studying him. Not the doctor, no, he's a short balding man that failed to catch my attention. No, instead, I'm studying Harry, who is bed ridden with a broken tailbone and strained back. He doesn't look at all what I remember him to be, even after the showers we both had to rid ourselves of three weeks of filth and grime.

His eyes seemed wise, almost like he knew too much for being only 19, and they weren't the usual green I had become accustomed to. Now they were darker, almost hazel. They were hard, honestly, he scared me. But I still wanted him here. His brown hair wasn't too curly anymore, he only had soft little curls that were matted and bunched up, hardly able to accept the label as 'curls', but I didn't know what else to call them. More like clumps of hair. His skin, usually tanned in the slightest bit, was now pale. He only had a small bit of pink in his cheeks, now.

I didn't want to leave that room. The room Louis died in, the room I was supposed to die in. I didn't want to go, but Harry forced me out. I screamed and clung to the door frame when he attempted to pull me out. I put up quite a fight, enough so, that they had to subdue me. Harry sat down with me in his arms still, in the middle of the room, and allowed me to just sob once more. Before I could stop them, someone slipped a needle into my skin. I thrashed out wildly, accidentally beating Harry and the person holding the needle, but eventually got dizzy. I could barely stand or talk, so I fell. I hit my head on the floor and knocked myself out.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, next to Harry, who claimed he put up another fight when they attempted to separate us. They wanted Harry in one room and me in another, but he wouldn't stand for that. He managed to get us in the same room, and it's a good thing, for I would have freaked out if I woke up and didn't see anyone I knew. Well, I freaked out anyway, but Harry calmed me down.

"Zayn, are you listening?" Harry asked. His voice even pained me. He didn't speak in his slow, deep, raspy drawl anymore. Now, he spoke fast. His voice was even an octave higher. If, for a slight second, his old voice would shine through, he covered his throat in fear of getting punched.

"No," I said simply. Harry and the doctor both sighed. I didn't want to listen. I didn't want to know where and how I was hurt, because I should be dead. I should be sprawled across the bed next to Louis and bleeding out. I shouldn't be here.

"Well, you have to listen, okay? Please? For me?" Harry pouted. I glared at him for a while and then turned to the doctor, who was gripping a chart and studying me closely from the end of the bed.

"Now, Zayn," he started. "You have quite a few injuries, you're lucky to be alive!"

"No I'm not," I said coldly, glaring at him. Judging from the name tag that was pinned to his long, white, lab coat, his name was Dr. Jeremy Green.

"Yes, we'll get to that," Dr. Green sighed, flipping through his charts. Well, my charts. "First, your physical injuries. You're fingers are all broken, so we wrapped them up, they'll get better pretty quick!" I looked at my hands to see my pinky and ring finger taped together, my middle and pointer finger taped together on each hand, and then a ace bandage wrapped around both my hands. "Also, your shoulder was out of socket, so we put it back in, but you'll have to keep the sling on for three weeks." My right shoulder was held in a black sling, just like he'd said. "Your nose was broken, so we had to set it, and your cheekbone had a crack in it. There's nothing we can do for that except wait for it to heal. Your right heel was broken, as well." There was a bright orange plaster cast around my foot, which I blamed Harry for. He always did like the color orange. "There were pieces of wood in your stomach? We removed those during surgery, disinfected them, and sewed you back up!" There was a throbbing pain in my side, now that he mentioned it, and gauze was wrapped completely around me.