Only You {h.s}

Chapter Forty Four

Trigger warning.

My fingernails are rotting away, splitting down the middle and leaking black blood.

My hair is ghostly white and falling out in a mix of clumps and singular strands.

My skin is losing its pigment, turning grey, purple veins poking through about to burst.

"Don't you get it? Don't you see how pretty I made you?" Mr. Carter's voice rings in my ears.

I frantically look around for him, feeling my airway constricting, but there is only the dark room. The pictures are there still, only black and white.

"You won't find me here," he laughs maniacally. Zayn starts to laugh with him.

Blood starts to drip from Harry's eyes in every photo. He comes alive in them, screaming, vessels turning black under his skin.

I feel burning hot touches all over my body, leaving blistering handprints. But there is nobody there.

"You're mine forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever..."

"Meredith!"

I wake up to my own screaming and Harry yelling my name. It's so warm. Everything feels so fucking warm. I try to kick off the blankets, but I'm not covered by anything. I can just barely hear Harry speaking through the sound of my panting.

"Just breathe, okay love? Breathe. Focus on me. You're here. You're safe. It's okay." His voice is soft and soothing, but I can hear it shaking.

I blink my eyes into focus and look at Harry. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over me. There is a deep crease between his eyebrows and his lips are pressed in a straight line, but his expression softens once I calm down a bit.

I shakily move over and rest my head in his lap. I curl into him, my hands fisting at the soft material of his t-shirt. He runs his fingers through my hair, coaxing me into relaxing even further.

"That's the last time I'm letting you nap by yourself. I heard you screaming from the kitchen," he mutters worriedly.

I know it isn't funny, but I let out a breathy laugh. Harry shakes his head at me. "Same one?"

"Yeah," I mumble.

Ever since I came home from the hospital, I've been having pretty much the same dream every time I go to sleep. It's only better when Harry is with me the whole night, holding me close.

The last week has been tough. I barely sleep. I'm really surprised I took a nap to be honest. I think I just passed out from exhaustion.

It's not like I don't have good moments, because I do. But every time I feel somewhat happy, I get my hopes up that I'm getting better. And then I feel even worse later on.

"What time is it?"

"Almost half five. You've been sleeping for a while."

"'M so tired," I grumble into his shirt.

"I know, baby. I know."

After a few more minutes of laying on him, I decide to sit up. I stretch and yawn loudly, ending up resting my head on his shoulder anyway. He chuckles softly and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

I move a piece of hair out of my face and immediately grimace when I feel how greasy it is. Every time my depression gets bad, I stop caring about things like hygiene. I feel so gross, but I don't have the energy to care about it. Things are a little different now that I'm living with Harry though.