Torn

20

Sirens.

Girls yelling.

People running.

The scent of disinfectant.

I turned my volume all the way up and focused on the thought of Ed Sheeran singing rather than Louis being seriously hurt. I pulled Louis's carrot blanket that I got him for his birthday last year up and around my shoulders. I found it laying over me when the boys woke me up at the house. Before the doctor had told us it could be serious, I just wanted to go home. But now, all I want to do is stay curled up in this ball on the uncomfortable couch in our private waiting room. I looked at myself through the reflection of my phone and mentally gagged. I look just like I did earlier today. Tear stained, blotchy face, puffy eyed, and a messy bun full of my thick, ratted caramel hair. I took out my ear plugs and was alarmed at how quiet it was in here. I was expecting to hear the busy noises of a hospital, but I heard nothing but the foot steps of Liam walking back and forth. We must have been here pretty long since the girls aren't yelling any more.

"Liam, will you stop pacing. Sit down, you've been like this for four hours," Niall said in a concerned voice. I've never seen the boys like this. And don't get me wrong, I'm acting the same way. But, the lads are normally there to help me back up. But now, Zayn won't even look up from his notebook, Niall hasn't smiled, Harry hasn't talked to any girls, including the hundreds of them forming a mob around the hospital, and Liam won't even talk or give us his amazing pep talks. Its Louis. He's the one that makes us act ourselves. We're nothing without him. I'm nothing without him. I love him.