Take Me Home • h. styles ✔

10 | Glint of Hope

HARRY

     I don't understand.

     It’s impossible.

     It can’t be.

     Niall can’t be gone.

     I just found my best friend, and then he’s gone.

    

     All of these thoughts kept running in my head. As much as I did not want to think about it, I couldn’t stop myself from doing so. I kept asking Mike if he was just in disarray or cynical when he answered my concern, but he still gave me the same response over and over. He said that he didn’t know where my best friend was, which was the most impossible thing that could’ve had happened. I was with Niall all the time for days, and the thought of having no idea where he was at the moment was dispiriting for my part. You know that moment when you finally found one person who could make you happy during these times, then out of the blue, he would just be taken away from you? That pain was the exact one I was feeling at the moment, and it’s too unbearable to handle.

     I had been lying on my cot for a few hours, and thankfully, that wound finally stopped bleeding. In spite the fact of getting the surge of blood to bring to an end, it was still unsurpassed to the immense amount of pain of not knowing where Niall was. Up until at this point, I still did not understand the possibility of us becoming estranged, as if my brain short-circuited and needed to be rebooted. There would be thoughts forming in my head about the chances of him being helpless, all alone once more with the creatures hungry for his life, and they continued to haunt me. Everything seemed to be in fast forward now, while I was motionless in the middle of it all.

     Where are you Niall?

 

     You’re alive. I know you’re alive.

 

     They’re lying. He had gotten it all wrong.

 

     Overthinking of things could be quite tense, and I began to feel my head hurt. The pulsating sensation started to become agonizing, so I decided to set aside my thoughts about Niall’s fate. There’s a reason for this. Maybe it was not the right time to comprehend it yet.

     Everything would be okay.

     I snapped back into reality when I saw the door open, and in came the girl with the flaxen hair whom Mike had a heated conversation with moments ago. She was carrying a metal tray, filled up with various medical tools, indicating that it was time to have my stitches up.

     I couldn’t get my gaze off of her. The way she moved was quite daunting, for she was in such a fast pace, and apparently she knew what she was about to do. As she was beginning to sterilize the needle using a candle in the process, she looked at me with apprehension in her eyes, and in one instant second, she took her gaze away.

     For the first few moments, she didn’t speak. As soon as she removed the cloth that Mike had given me earlier, I hissed in agony as an abrupt pricking pain divulged on the site of my wound. Time went by, and her focus was primarily on addressing my gash, not even daring to speak out a single word as she was making the suture on my leg.