The song in the media bar mainly pertains to the very end of this chapter. I don't know what it is about it but I really liked how they fit together! The songs is Dangerous by David Guetta.
Harry's POV~
Eventually it was the pain coursing through my body that woke me up an hour later. Everything hurt but the one thing that stood out to me in my groggy drunken state was the crushed throbbing of my wrist on my left arm. I was soaking wet in what I could only assume was my own sweat and my throat burned with the aftertaste of my vomiting. After much mental denial that I would wake from this nightmare of pain, I finally opened my eyes to assess the damage.
My left wrist held to my chest in unconscious protection. The limb was purple and swollen to nearly twice it's size. It had a deep gash across it that bled lightly onto my shirt beneath it. My hand was bent the wrong way and trying to move it back was excruciating. I had to resist the urge to cry out. I could move my fingers but it hurt to do so. I also had deep aches in my head and my neck but it was nothing compared to my wrist.
Upon looking around at my surroundings I found that I was laid a crossed the soft leather backseat of my car. My back was on the seat and my head was elevated slightly by what felt like a poorly wadded up sweatshirt. Upfront was Cory and her friend Ash who were hunched over and talking in hushed voices.
"...won't get us in trouble Ash... Cmon, he's just a kid okay?"
Ash grumbled something inaudible.I used my one good hand to push my stiff form up from the seat. Every movement hurt but I forced my body into a somewhat sitting position and coughed to make my consciousness known. I didn't have a clear grasp of what was happening or how long I'd been out. All I knew was that I'd hit the ground hard and that whatever Ash and Cory were talking about clearly revolved around the mess that was me.
Cory whipped around looking hopeful. "Harry!" She exclaimed. "How do you feel baby?"
I adjusted myself to directly face her, trying my best to keep my wrist pinned to my chest. Even moving it caused me to cry out in pain involuntarily. I watched as Cory's eyes flicked from my swollen mess of a wrist to my watering eyes. I felt pain filled tears prick my eyes and had to blink hard. I would not cry infront of her. I couldn't cry infront of her.
She understood just by looking at my injury that it wasn't good. She knew as much as I did that I was incredibly screwed. In turn, we all were. Her smile fell.
"I cant go to the hospital," I blurted out before she should say anything. I shifted again wincing in pain. Thinking of what Ann would say, I'd rather break my other arm than call her from the hospital to tell her I'd broken my arm. There'd be too many questions that I couldn't answer. How would I even begin to tell her what I'd done? I hopped up onto the hood of my car and found that my balance didn't hold out at breakneck speeds. My bad. Sorry.
Cory nodded seeming pleased with my statement and dug through her purse producing a pill bottle. The label had been ripped off but I knew whatever they were, she'd been popping them periodically all night. Her eyes had remained dilated from the moment she'd picked me up onward. I wondered what it must be like to remain in a constant state of inebriation like she seemed to do. It couldn't possibly be pleasant to never be clear in the head. I, myself, struggled to enjoy it for more than a few hours at most.
"I know a nurse," I added trying to form a coherent plan as to how I would get out of this without my mothers prying presence.
Cory dumped three pills in her hand and held them out to me. "For the pain," she said sympathetically. I thought about saying no, but I was in so much pain that I just took them and swallowed all three without water. Immediately I felt a layer of unexpected calm rush over me. It gave me a confidence that maybe this disaster would only get better. It was fools thinking, but it was enough to help me hide from the truth of how screwed up this entire situation was.
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Before The End (One Direction)
Fanfiction"I wasn't addicted to drugs. Yes, I liked using drugs, but to call me an addict would be a false accusation. But then, why can't I stop?" Harry Styles seemingly had everything a 16 year old could ever dream of. He was attractive, famous, rich and pa...