Fıx you {H.S.}

20| Hold My Hand

It had been three days since Harry and I had last done our spontaneous dates. We couldn't do anymore now as I was never in the mood. I didn't understand why but I felt absolutely horrible, almost all the time, and when I didn't, I was tired. Moody and tired. I had warned Harry that it would be best if he just stayed away from me until whatever sickness I had was over, but he wouldn't allow it. So, for the last few days, Harry and I have been hanging out around home. Well, mostly my room, as I didn't want to go anywhere else.

"Look, Heather, I'm really worried. I think we should go see a doctor." Harry said to me as we lay on my bed watching some action movie that was currently on TV. I sighed, knowing this conversation would come. Truth be told, I didn't want to go to the doctors because they scared me. They brought back too many memories from how I used to be and I hoped that I would never have to go back there. Doctor's clinics weren't happy places. They were full of sick people needing help, and I didn't want to be there. Ever. I had spent my time needing help from a doctor already. Waiting for blood test results to see why I was feeling so sick all the time, having multiple weigh ins and each time weighing less, complaining about headaches and fevers, getting pills to 'help' me. Everything. I had tried everything and nothing had worked, until Harry came along. So that just proves that the whole place is bullshit.

"I'm fine." I said.

"Heather, you're not. It's been almost a week now and you're not looking any better. I think you need some medicine." Harry said. I ignored him and eventually he picked up the remote and turned off the TV. "Heather."

I sighed again. "I don't want to go there."

"Why not?"

I looked down at my legs like a moody five year old not wanting to make eye contact with their parents. "Because I hate the place! It's no good. I'll just go to the pharmacy tomorrow and get some more painkillers."

"Painkillers aren't going to help." Harry stated, making me sigh once again. "Look, I'll take you now. You'll be okay. I'll be with you. At all times."

"No."

"Heather-"

"You can't make me."

"I bloody well can."

I folded my arms, refusing to move from my bed. "I'm not going. I'm fine." I lied. I was the complete opposite. I was actually starting to worry just what I had. There was one possibility that checked all the symptoms I had been having, and it would explain everything and it would make sense, but I refused to believe it was true.

"Get dressed." Harry said.

"No."

"Okay, your choice."

I looked up at him and only had a second to react before he grabbed me by my waist and hauled me over his shoulders, holding me like some towel. I shrieked and slapped his back as he walked downstairs and stuffed me into his car, putting my seatbelt on. I turned to him with the most filthiest look and he chuckled before slamming my door and standing outside for a while. I held my expression and watched him walk around the car as he hopped in, put his keys in the ignition, put his seatbelt on and then I watched as he sighed and turned to me.

"Would you quit looking at me like that?!"

I made my expression meaner.

"We're going. I told you to get dressed." Harry pointed out.

I looked down at my baggy pyjama pants and old t-shirt. "I look like a hobo."

"A pretty hobo." Harry grinned.

"No."

"Okay."

"I hate you so much right now." I said, my teeth clenched. "I hate that place. I can't believe you."