Broken ( Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It all happened so fast. One minute I was arguing with my mother about her alcoholism and the next thing I knew I was watching as the paramedics tried to bring her back to life. The tears never seemed to stop shedding and the pain in my heart was blurring my vision.

I watched through squinted eyes how the paramedics used so many tactics to boost her pulse. Nothing seemed to work. All I wanted was for her to open her eyes and look at me. I didn't care if she asked for more alcohol. I didn't care if she yelled at me. I wanted to look into her eyes again. She had to open her eyes.

My knees were curled up and I hugged them letting the tears shed. I was scared. I wanted my mom.

“Please mom,” I begged, “Wake up. Open your eyes.”

The paramedics were fumbling through their equipment trying to get any type of response from her. Nothing seemed to be working and I began to get scared. I can see the paramedics beginning to give up on her. They were getting tired of doing the same thing over and over.

My eyes darted to my mother's closed eyes. I stared at her pale lids. Her long lashes peaked from her shut eyes. I stared and waited with anticipation hoping that those lids would flutter open. I wanted to watch those beautiful green eyes of hers again. Those eyes that I so badly wish I would have. Instead I was stuck with my fathers looks. Sometimes I wished that I was more like her, but right now all I wanted was to watch her open her eyes and make a snarky remark about me.

I felt the peramadics eyes move onto me in the corner. I could see the pity in his eyes and he had a frown plastered on his face. I could already tell that this was not good news.

He turned to his partner and said, “We are going to have to call it in.”

“No!” I cried out, “MOM! NO!”

I thre my body over my mother's and I could feel her cold body underneath me. I cried out in anger trying to get her to wake up. I knew it was no use and that she was gone, but I wanted to try. I wanted to believe that maybe there was a chance that she would open her eyes if I asked her to.

“No! Please mom! I love you. Please wake up!” I begged.

I felt a pair of strong arms around me. They began to pull me away from her and I could feel my heart aching as I lost contact with her. I watched as they took her body away from me and I began to to kick and scream feeling an empty feeling in my heart. The man who pulled me away was holding me in his arms trying to get me to calm down.

“Mam you are going to have to calm down or I am going to have to give you a sedative,” he said, but I didn't care.

I wanted my mom. I felt empty knowing she was gone. My body felt numb and I felt alone. The paramedic began to hold me against his chest. I buried my face on his chest letting the tears out and wetting his uniform. He began to comfort me, but I felt nothing. No one can help me. All I wanted to do was scream and cry. I felt so many mixed emotions. I was mad at her for being so careless and letting herself go. I was sad because she was gone and I was all alone.

No one will ever help me forget this moment. Her cold slim body in my arms is something I will never forget. The way she breathed trying to catch that last breath. The way her body trembled when the paramedics tried to make her pulse come back to life. This was something that was etched into my memory.

Thinking about all of this made me so angry that I began to scream again and kicked the paramedic away from me.

“Leave!” I screamed.

He put his arms up signaling surrender then they all walked away taking my mother's body with them. Once he was out of sight I there myself on the ground letting out a loud yell. I felt my heart ache as I yelled and soon the tears began to flow out again.

I brought my hand up to my chest clenching my t shirt trying to stop the aching of my heart. Nothing seemed to work. I felt broken.

Hours Later...

My tears were finally dry and I looked down at my phone knowing I had to call my father and tell him what happened. I took a deep breathe trying to find the courage to call him. A couple more deep breathes later I dialed his number with shaky hands.

“Nicky,” he answered, “is everything alright. It's 1:00am.”

I could feel the tears trying to escape.

“Nicky?” he said, “Are you still there?”

“Mom,” I finally said my voice sounding shaky.

“What is it? What's wrong with your mother? Is she alright?” I could feel the panic in my father's voice. Did he care? Did he still love her?

I couldn't control my sobbing and I began to try to explain what happen to her, but my cry was making it impossibly to talk.

I began to take in some deep breathes to control myself. I finally managed to breathe and control the tears.

I slowly spoke, “She...she's dead.”

There was silence from the other side of the call and I wondered if he was still there. I heard a couple sniffles and I knew he was crying.

“Dad?” I asked.

“I'm here,” he said in a broken tone.

“I don't know what to do?” I cried.

He let out a sigh and I could hear him as he cried. He kept quiet and tried to hide it, but I could hear him as he tried to control his breathing. Knowing that he cried for her made me realized that he still loved her. That thought made me even sadder and I began to cry more.

“I feel so lost,” I said through the tears.

“I know Nicollette. I know. I 'm sorry honey,” he let out a loud sigh and then spoke again, “where is your mother?”

“They...they took her,” I said.

“Who took her?” He asked panicked.

“The paramedics,” I said, “I didn't know what to do. They tried so many times to get her to open her eyes, but it was no use. She just laid there.”

The image of my mother's lifeless body popped back in my head. It was an image that will forever be in my head.

“Alright honey. I am on my way to you,” he said and hung up the call.

I stoop up from the ground and I slowly walked to my mother's room. I wasn't sure why or how I got to her door, but part of me wanted to find her in there curled up in her bed. I slowly opened the door and walked in. the familiar scent of vanilla scented candles mixed with the smell of alcohol hit my face. I looked over at her bed, but it looked foreign with out her. She had beer bottles scattered on the floor and on her bed. The vodka on the dresser caught my eye and I slowly and zombie-like walked towards it. I grabbed the bottle holding up in from of my face. I studied it looking at it's beautiful clear color. This clear liquid could be the reason why mother is not with me anymore.

How can something that looks so clear and pure, like water, be so addictive and intoxicating?

My grip on the bottle tighten and my knuckles turned white as I held on to it. I laughed thinking how this substance was doing nothing to me as I held it in my hand, but it was a murderer. It was a weapon. Once you consume it it turns on you and begins to consume you until you are left lifeless on the ground. Just like my mother.

The memory of her body on the ground popped back in my head. I could feel the anger boiling in me as I gripped onto the bottle. I let out a loud yell, then threw it across the room. My heart was racing and my blood was boiling with anger. The aching in my heart wouldn't go away, so I began to trash the room. I threw bottles around breaking them. I looked over at my reflection on the mirror and my blonde hair reminded me of my mother. My anger took over me and I threw a bottle at the mirror making it shatter into a million pieces. Once I had absolutely nothing else to destroy I threw myself on the bed and continued to cry.

I took my mother's pillow and hugged it burying my face in it. Despite the alcohol it still had that sweet vanilla smell I loved so much. I inhaled deeply taking in the familiar scent and cried myself to sleep.