Chapter 6 - The Finale

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Chapter 6

When I woke up, a tiny sliver of light seeped in through the door and landed on Harry’s back. There were bruises all up his arms and legs, the cut on his shoulder still looking bad, and he had an extremely dark black eye. Dylan was passed out over by the far wall, lying unconscious under Mike the bartender who also was sleeping. My whole body was sore, aching from my head to the tips of my toes. I groaned quietly, loud enough for Harry to hear, but quiet enough for Dylan and Mike to ignore. Harry tried to sit up, but realizing the amount of injuries on his body, sunk back down, now facing me better.

He looked exhausted, yet worried. I smiled a little and tried to mouth to him that I was ok. He nodded slightly and faced his pain. He stood up and strode over to where I was slowly, watching his footing to make sure he didn’t make any noise. He fumbled with the rope behind my back, his fingers struggling to untie it. Finally it compromised with him and it fell to my lap. I stood up slowly and headed toward the door.

This required us to pass Dylan and Mike. I squeezed my eyes shut as I took a step right next to Mike’s feet. He stirred, but never woke. I sighed in relief. The door squeaked loudly as I opened it, but Dylan and Mike must have been sleeping very deeply because they didn’t even move. I tiptoed down flights and flights of stairs, my hand never leaving Harry’s grip. I could hear him moan in pain every couple of seconds, but he chose to be strong and keep going.

I lost my footing for a second, tumbling down the stairs and bring Harry with me. We made such a ruckus, I heard shuffling upstairs and a few swear words coming from Dylan. I tried to stand up as quick as possible, but Harry was so pained that it was taking longer than necessary. Dylan and Mike came bounding down the stairs, Dylan obviously had a hangover. He tripped down the stairs awkward trying to get past Mike who was standing in front of him.

“Logan, let’s GO!” Harry yelled as we took off. Dylan and Mike sped up too, Dylan still getting frustrated with Mike. Harry and I pounded down streets that we didn’t know, and passed ghetto looking apartments, a police station and a bar. Dylan was so fed up with Mike that he took out a pocket knife and stabbed Mike in the back. My eyes widened as I watched the bartender fall to the ground, writhing in pain. Two police officers from the nearby station hopped in a car and took off after us. Dylan pulled his Harry wig back into place and circled around us, and took off into an alley. The police kept following us instead.

They must think that Harry is Dylan. I understand Dylan’s idea for the costume party now.

We ran through the crowded, messy, but beloved streets of our city, Manhattan. He gripped my hand and pulled me further as we sprinted by stores, stands, and plenty of people. I tried to turn around to see if the cops had gained on us, but my head whipped back around to see a stroller straight ahead of me. I took a sharp left and barely dodged it. I could tell he needed a break, so we sprinted into an alley.

                In the middle of the deserted alleyway, he stopped and tried to quit panting. All of a sudden, I saw a bright blue uniform, two, on either end of the alley. The cops, dang. Each of them had a gun pointed straight at us. They slowly edged towards the two victims in the middle, which just happened to be me and him, but refused to lower their weapons. Harry looked furious.

                “Try me,” he teased at the cops.

                “THAT’S IT!” bellowed the one to my right. “You’d better try to shield yourself.”

                He got ready to pull the trigger. My heart started to race as fast as the bullet would come. I felt Harry’s hand tighten around mine. Just as I heard the gun fire, Harry threw his other arm around me and we crashed to the floor, and I blacked out.

                I woke up in a hospital room to bright daylight. A nurse bustled around the room, checking monitors and scrawling things down on her clipboard. She turned around, apparently to check on me, and her eyes widened. She hurried out the door. A couple of seconds later, a middle-aged doctor came into the room and sat on the edge of my bed. He shined a light in my eye and ordered the nurse to write something down.

                “Hello, Logan, I am Dr. Larson. You are at Manhattan City Hospital. You have been in a coma for 16 months.” I stared at him, appalled. What happened? I gave him a look of confusion, asking him to go on. “16 months ago, you were kidnapped by a young man named Dylan Sanders. He was an alcoholic, and he was drunk the whole time.” I remember. “You and another young man named Harry Styles were severely beaten by this Dylan and another named Mike Landing. For some reason, the police were chasing you and Harry instead of Dylan and Mike, and one of these officers fired a gun at you. The shot missed you by inches but hit Harry in the shoulder right where another cut was already. He is fine now, he has been out of the hospital for a while now. You had a broken tibia and a minor concussion, but all of that is fixed now. You will have some scars that will probably remain for the rest of you life, though. I know this is a lot to take in but,”

                “Where’s Harry?” I interrupted. He looked at me surprised.

                “Oh, well, he’s waiting outside. Do you want to see him?”

                “Yes, yes please. I’ve been waiting a little too long,” I said with a small smile. Dr. Larson nodded and he and the nurse headed outside. Harry rushed into the room right after and stopped right at my bedside. He stared into my eyes for a second before embracing me tightly and placing a long sweet kiss on my lips. “Harry.” I said and smiled.

                “Logan, I have some news,” he said, taking my hands.

                “What is it?” I asked, squeezing them.

                “You and I got scholarships to Julliard,” he said, before placing one more long kiss on my lips.

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