Adopted By Harry Styles

Chapter 70

Welcome back ;)

***WARNING: this chapter contains thoughts and mentions of suicide. If you are not comfortable with this material, please do not read***
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To put it simply for those who have just so happen to have never been in or awoken from a coma:

The recovery fucking sucks.

You have to get your muscles up and running again, like a baby learning how to walk for the first time. The exercises, the strain, the nerves. But in my opinion, the worst part of all of this, is finding the motivation to keep on going.

  It all just feels numb.

One of the strongest contradictions I've come to know and have the unfortunate privilege of understanding. The blank stares I share with the wall across from me, the silence I have returned to everyone that has spoken to me since I awoke. Poor Gemma and Anne included.

Despite the strength that I show when taking each step of my recovery. Speaking once again is a strength that I have no desire to gain. And I'm not sure why. Gemma ran towards me when she saw I was awake. Her arms crushing me in a warm hug. She kissed my forehead, cheek, nose, hands. And most importantly she called everyone.

Harry, Louis, Liam, and Niall were in my room within 25 minutes. I don't even know how far away they were prior, or if they were in the middle of a performance. But they were here. And they cried.

They cried.

Crying as they head me. Crying as they cupped my hace in their hands. Crying as they told me of everything that I missed. How they missed me. They told me. At first, a smile was on my face as I heard everything. I continued to hear more and more, but as their stories flowed, as did the memories of what I had done.

Anne holding me. The sirens. The pain. The screams. The blood.

  Everything came back. And I haven't said anything since.

  They've all tried to help me say something. Gemma, Anne, the nurses, the hospital child psychiatrist. They would try to get me to talk about how I was feeling, what my recovery is like, memories of good times. The psychiatrist child tried to get me to tell why I did what I did.

  And then there was Harry.

  "Brooke," he said. His voice was weak and raspy. It also felt...desperate. "I was so scared."

  He was shaking his legs as his thumbs repeatedly intertwined with one another. I just kept looking down.

  "There wasn't a moment where I didn't think of you," he continued. "I wanted to stop performing and just be at your side. That's all I wanted. I wanted to make sure that you were still here. That you weren't gone."

  He started to sniffle. As did I.

"You're my daughter. You are the most important thing in the world to me. And I can't imagine my life, the world, without you in it."

He lets out a slight chuckle.

"You know, I still remember everything. Everything about the day that we first met. You were wearing a grey hoodie to cover up the bruise on your eye. You told us how you were an orphan, and how you lived in an orphanage not to far from the signing. You told us about your family. How you were the soul survivor. But despite everything that you told us, you still joked, and had a smile on your face. I knew...I knew right then and there that you are so strong. So incredible. I wrote 'Everything will get better. I promise' on your CD."