Gone

You Saved Me 35

“You’re clueless, aren’t you?” She looked back at me. “I swear. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Actually - she never did.” My lips pursed together. ‘So are we ... something?’ ‘Do you want to be?’ ‘Yes, of course.’ ‘Well then, yes.’ ‘But what happens when we get out? What happens when we get away from all this?’ My eyes blinked themselves shut and open to stop them from flashing. 

“She ... she never had a boyfriend?” I asked, slightly lowering my head, and looking up at my brows. “That was fake?”

“She never was that great of an actor, but somehow she managed this.” I looked behind me at the boys staring at us. 

“Does she ... mention me? At all?” I didn’t want to ask, but my mind made me. 

“She thought about you everyday. And you practically ruined her.” She pulled me to two lone seats in the corner, the family and the boys unable to hear. There was a 5 year old girl who kept turning around - either curious to why I was bloody or recongnizing me. I don’t remember a time where I didn’t go somewhere unrecongnized.

Adrianna said she couldn’t visit Andrea until the nurse came back - which she said would take about an hour. After so much anticipation, I felt like I had to. “Do any of you want a drink?” I asked. They thought I meant soda from the vending machine. They all said no. I walked down the hall, and through the sliding doors, and out into the sun. My feet carried me a block to where the local pub was. 

I opened the door, and heard a chime. So it was that kind of bar. I made my way to the counter, where my hands folded and I ordered the strongest thing they had. A blonde waitress with a bust got me a glass of vodka with other stuff. “So you’re pretty fucked up tonight, eh?” She threw her head back and laughed, but stopped when the clink of an empty vodka glass hit the counter. A few older men in the back shot a look but I didn’t care. I already felt the buzz, but I needed more. “Don’t get to crazy kid. So what happened?” Bartenders had a great job. They got to hear all the gossip from drunk people. A couple walked into the bar, and sat across from me. 

I didn’t answer the bartenders question, but did manage to say another one. She gave me a eyebrow raise. I almost threw the overly used Irish explanation out there. She had to have know I was Irish. I had the accent. I knew she knew, and I knew she knew who I was. She tried to flirt, and even managed to accidently slip a peice of paper with 10 digits under my glass, and I was clearly able to see it once I slammed the fifth glass of vodka down. “Do you have anything stronger?” A man surely around 30 came and sat next to me. 

“Nothing can make a kid like ya need even more alcohol. Ya have ya’re whole life ahead of ya, and if ya think that this is the worst, ya’re in for a big surprise.” He had a faux accent, and it didn’t work. I was so drunk I considered telling him, but decided it was long enough, I could visit Andrea.

I paid the drink, and merely told the bartender she left her number under my glass. Her face was one of the many I’ve seen; rejection. She sighed, and served another lad. I pushed the door, but held the chime. It was annoying, and as for the now happy hour in America, I’ve heard that chime more than the number of times I heard in the arena.

I walked down the sidewalk, no cops driving by. Public intoxication was a thing - right? Finally there was the hospital. Giddily, I smiled, and jogged up the rest of the hill, making my way inside to the elevator. The family was still in the waiting room - but the boys weren’t. Were the birthing suites 4 or 5? There was a woman in the elevator with a little kid, and made tons of room for me. “Excuse me,” I slurred. She pulled her child from my side to the corner. “Is the birthing suites floor 4 or 5? And do they actually give birth there? Nevermind, she had a C section in the emergency!” I laughed at myself, not with myself, and watched her feel pity for me and who she probably thought was my girlfriend I knocked up. 

“5,” she answered quietly. The doors opened and she ushered her child out. I pressed 5 with a smile that was unnessacary. I padded down the hall to the main desk, but saw Liam sitting in a chair so I took a detour into that room. The curtain was pulled around to the end of the bed and there was Adrianna sitting holding a blanket. There was a bump in the sheets at the end - a foot. Zayn and Liam knew I was drunk, and got up to push me out. 

“C’mon lads,” I slurred, pushing them back. I wanted to see Andrea. Adrianna sent me a glare. “I want-” a burp stopped that sentence. 

“C’mon, Ni.” Liam said pulling me. He began working out around 2 months ago, and it was paying off. I couldn’t even rip my arm out of his grip. Zayn sort of tugged on my other side, which was also uncomfortable. The next thing I knew, I was in the elevator, with two hands in 4 arms. One hand for 2 arms. They lifted me up - and that was the last I possibly remembered.  

Before I opened my eyes I squeezed them, then I opened them. Zayn was asleep in the bed across from me, and Liam was groggy in the chair. We were in the hotel room for the trip to America. We rented it so we could stay here during the funeral. It was just a burial, but we wanted a mini vacation, and it ended up being this. 

I rolled out of bed with the worst hangover possible. Once my brain caught hold of the realization that

We were in Los Angeles

We attended Kennedy’s burial already

I gotten shit drunk last night

I found Andrea

She might or might not be alive

Same with her baby

When I realized I found Andrea I sat right up. Liam looked up after seeing a moving figure. He looked like a dead ghost. He needed sleep worse than I needed Andrea.

“C’mon, let’s go to the hospital,” I muttered quickly. It was very rude of me to insist us leaving to go to the hospital when Liam was this tired but I needed to go, and I didn’t have my permit yet. Liam faltered a smile, and nodded. Zayn was still asleep, his mouth ajar, releasing small snores. He didn’t move at all when Liam and I closed the door and left the room. No fans were outside yet so we made a run to Liam’s rented car. He tossed me a shirt and shorts. 

“Get changed in the back,” he said. “My windows are tinted, so don’t worry.” Nodding, I slid my still bloody shirt off. I made a quick note to myself to throw them away.

The minute I finished getting changed we were pulling into the parking garage. He rode up to the fifth level, which was the highest the parking garage levels offered. When he parked the car I ran to the elevators, while Liam walked. He rubbed his eyes, sleep slipping out. “Liam, is she okay?”