Jamie's POV-
"Jamie? Wake up, you have a visitor."
"Five more minutes, mom" I mumble, stuffing my face further into the pillow.
"Jamie? Ms. Raptor, wake up. You're not at home, this is the hospital."
Oh.
I always had that dream, that dream where I was back in my small town, still 17, just living my daily life. It had always seemed plain and boring back then, but compared to now, I'd take it back in a heartbeat.
Wait, visitor?
"Is my mom here?" I mean, who else could it be? My dad wouldn't visit, knowing him. My mom had never visited before, but maybe she came to see if I had gotten any better...?
"No, he said he was a friend of yours..." the nurse tells me. "Harry Styles I think his name was?"
Wait, he was serious? I thought after yesterday, I'd never see him again. He came back?
"Ms. Raptor?"
"Yea yea, I'm coming." This is weird. A visitor. I've never had a visitor before, other than the surprise visits by lost family members of patients up stairs who, until Harry, only asked for directions.
The nurse holds the door open for me, putting a hand on my lower back to guide me to the visitor room, as if I'd turn around and run away any second. Hmm, that actually sounds like a nice idea...
"Jamie!" Harry exclaims as soon as he sees me walk in the room. He lightly joggs over to me and gives me a light peck to the cheek, grinnning like mad.
"Hey, curly. I see you stuck to your promise."
"I wouldn't break it for the world" he smiles warmly, his small but meaningful statement causing my heart to flutter slightly. I could feel a faint pink color creeping up my cheekbones, so to end the touching moment I sat down at the table he was previously sitting at and sighed. "How are you today, Jamie Raptor?"
"Why'd you say my full name?" I giggle shamelessly. I would never admit this out loud, but Harry is the definition of charming. He seems to be perfect in every way.
"Because you call me curly, and until I find you an annoying nickname, I'm calling you by your first and last name. So, how's your day going?" he asks again, taking a seat at the table and resting his elbows on the table, propping his head on top of his knuckles.
"It's ok, slightly better than usual."
"And why is that?" he asks, a stupid grin on his face because I'm positive he already knows the answer.
But, being the stubborn teenage girl I am, I would never give him that satisfaction. "Because for breakfast, we had cinnamon roles, and Mandy's home made cinnamon roles are to die for" I half-lie, because it's true, the main cook in this asylum, Mandy, makes the best cinnamon roles ever.
His grin is quickly replaced with a frown, his pointless pout causing me to erupt in laughter. Eventually, he drops the pout and chuckles as well.
"So what do you normally do all day here? Sleep? Play cards?"
"Well, every afternoon after lunch we attend therapy sessions, but yea, that's pretty much my day" I answer through a sigh. I've always hated this place, from the moment I stepped foot into the basement of this damn jail-like hospital. "What about you, hotshot, what's your daily plan? If there even is a plan" I laugh. His plan is probably just to keep busy being a pop star.
"Actually, it's a lot more repetitive than you'd ever imagine-"
"Oh?" I interrupt him. I seriously doubt-
"Yea, everyday, it's wake up early, go to some studio, write and record songs for our upcoming album, maybe an interview on good days, then it's off to the stadium for the night for sound check, rehearsal, and then the concert. I've been doing the same thing for 2 years now."
"Oh..."
"Yea. But I don't mind I guess; I'm living my dream, what else could I ask for?"
"What about your friends or girlfriend? Family?" I ask. I mean, surely he has time for his friends, right?
"They're at home, living their daily life. I don't have time to fly home just like they don't have time to fly here. My friends are my bandmates and the crew. And I don't have a girlfriend." He takes a deep breath, looking down into his lap.
"What? Mr. Hotshot pop star doesn't have a girlfriend?" I gasp, faking interest in his love life. Ok so maybe I'm not FAKING interest, but I want it to seem that way. I'm faking fake interest, if that makes sense.
"I know, I can't believe it either" he jokes, causing both of us to cackle a little too loud. Everyone in the visitors room turns towards us to shoot us a glare, but after we shut up a little, they all go back to their conversations. "But on a serious note, no I don't. I haven't met the right girl; all the girls I've met since fame have only pretended to like me because of my title and my looks, none of them have really gotten to know me."
"Except me" I add for him, in a warning tone. "I don't even have an option in getting to know you, you straight up told me you would continue talking to me" I remind him, just to justify my point.
"You want me to leave?" he asks jokingly, tauntingly standing up to 'leave.'
"Harry, stop being an idiot and sit down" I groan.
"Hey, you called me Harry!"
"Don't get used to it, curly."
-
"Ms. Kinner, you can't do that! That's cheating!" I chuckle, tossing all my cards onto the cement floor in front of me. She smiles guiltily before scooping up all the cards and starting to reshuffle them for the fourth time this afternoon. Sighing, I rest back on the palms of my hands and stare at the ceiling. I wish I could get out of here, for just one day. One day of fresh air and sunlight is all I need right now.
Letting my eyes roam around the room, my eyes eventually settle on the camera in the far corner by the door, the green dot shining bright and the lens constantly focusing on the entire view of the room. Wait, WHAT? The lights on? When'd that happen?
"Ms. Kinner, when'd the light on the camera turn on?" I ask frantically, standing up and staring at the device. Looking at Ms. Kinner, she holds up four fingers. Four hours ago. Oh thank god, if it was on this morning, they would've seen me take out my pill. I'd be transferred to a more serious and intense care hospital, and that would only make things worse. I can't get transferred; I was lucky enough to get a roommate this time that doesn't talk and isn't too crazy, but I couldn't possibly get this luck twice.
Shit, if the camera stays on, I'll be forced to take my pills. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Shit.
Ok, well I have about eight saved up for the day I can't possibly take living here anymore. That's enough to od, plus the one I take the morning I do, so I'll be fine. It'll be ok. I'm safe. I'm fine.
Maybe if I actually get out of here, I won't need the pills under my sheets. Maybe...just maybe one day...one day I'll get out of here and start my life again.
A/N: shoot it's been a lot longer than I promised. I'm sorry. I was planning on updating this unedited the day I said so, but just so happens that my wifi blew out that day for like a week. 1 vote=1 cry. But then when it came back I just like forgot about it, so I'm sorry. I love you guys, and if you're still reading, you're amazing.
And this is short :( I'm sorry
