complications » h.s. [COMPLETED]

thirty

mature content ;-))

Lydia

A dreadful feeling occurred, knowing that I was taking out my stitches today. Liam was in LA with Sophia, Niall and Louis was out and God knows where they were and Harry was the only one left in the house with me. Of course, he assumed that he was going to go to the hospital with me. Yet, I insisted that he could with with Niall and Louis, but here we were in the hospital waiting room.

And when the nurse called my name, the rest of appointment was a blur to me. I wasn't the person to strongly dislike hospital, but after everything that has happened, I couldn't stand them.

I remembered seeing the huge scar that had semi healed on my stomach that was enough for me to be silent the whole way back home.

Harry obviously noticed my strange behavior as I came home, I sat down on the couch without a word and let CNN play in the background and stared out in the air. This wasn't what I used to do, I never watched the news. It was always a comedy or drama tv series. He knew that and I knew that.

Harry placed a glass of water on the table, watched me carefully. "Lydia, is everything alright?"

I barely nodded my head, I knew that if I responded the tears would start to fall.

"You have been silent the whole ride home, are you sure?" He asked softly.

"It's not even that important," my voice shook.

"It clearly is if it makes you silent like this," he said.

"No, it's clearly not important when I wanna cry like a little baby because of the goddamn scar," I raised my voice.

"The scar?" He asked confused. "The doctors said everything was alright."

"I know what the doctors said. It still doesn't change the fact that I have a huge scar on my stomach," I said, feeling a tear well up.

"Lydia, that is nothing to be sad about," he tried to calm me down.

"I know and it's stupid. There are literally people dying in wars across the world and I am here crying over a operation scar," I sniffed and looked at CNN showing us footage from a bombing in Syria. By now a few tears had escaped down my cheek.

"Think of that as a reminder that you survived a gun shot."

"But that's the problem, I don't want to be reminded of it. I don't want to come up with a lie to my child in ten years when they ask me about my scar, because I can't tell him or her that I used to deal with illegal actions and almost died because of it!"

Harry remained silent.

"And the worst part of all is that I used all my high school years to accept my body as it. I was so insecure and it took a while for me to accept as who I was. Now all of this is torn down because of this this," I cried, my hand resting over my stomach.

Harry sat down next to me, his arm around me allowing me to cry on him.

"It's okay," he whispered, his hand pushing my hair away from my face.

"I never wanted to be a part of this," I said.

He sighed. "Neither did I."

"You don't understand," I sobbed. "It's more than that, because I think I'm falling in love with you." My eyes widened as I realized what had left my mouth.