I wake to bright light and a beeping sound that won't stop. My eyes are only partly open, not even partly but everything seems blurry. I wish I hadn't woken up. No one wants me, loves me or cares for me. That's a fact. I'm beginning to question if Harry really loves me, or if he only tolerates me... or if he's being paid to date me.
"Pam, oh my god." Harry attacks me in a tight hug, his lips leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over my face before settling on my lips quickly, but I don't respond, I'm shocked to say the least. My hands push on his chest, pushing him away from me. He looks hurt, but I just needed air and space.
"Where am I?" I ask him, furrowing my eyebrows. The first thing I see is Harry when I wake up, so I'm not sure where I'm at. His eyes soften, turning glossy at the same time.
"You're in the hospital." He tells me, I frown but furrow my eyebrows. "You tried to kill yourself last night." His bottom lip quivers, memories of last night play in my mind, tears spring in my eyes.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, choking on a sob. I look away, shaking my head. This is all my fault, if he hadn't saved me last night everything would be alright. This is a good act, if it is, no one would miss me, I'm sure. His arms wrap around me and pull me in to his chest.
"It's not your fault baby." He coos, kissing my cheek. My eyes flick down, though my vision is blurred by an increasing amount of tears, I can still see the bandages wrapped around my wrist, and the blood seeping through. Oh God. I cringe at the sight, squeezing my eyes together, tears slide down my cheeks. It's not my fault. Hell yes it's my fucking fault.
"I'm tired of waking up." I tell him after minutes of silence, I'm being completely honest. I'm tired of waking up. I'm so fucking tired of waking up only to be disappointed, let down, forgotten, left behind. I'm tired of the drama, the lies and bullshit and tears. I want it to end. It feels like everyone hates me, no one acknowledges me. Harry shouldn't even be with me. I'm darkness and he's the light- quite the twist.
"Don't say that." His hands run through my hair, looking me in the eyes.
"Don't say the truth?" I ask him, my eyebrows coming together and sadness taking over his eyes. I love when people tell you not to lie, now I'm being told not to speak the truth. But now it all makes sense to me, it all clicks. You can't lie but you can't tell the truth... you have to hide everything and fake it all.
"When can I go home?" I ask him, my eyes flicking over to the door when it clicks open. I see a man in a white jacket standing there, offering a small smile. This must be my doctor.
"How are feeling, Pam?" He asks me in a soft voice and kind eyes reflect his emotion. They don't hold pity, or judgement, and I'm thankful they don't. I shrug, I don't know how to answer. Physically, I'm okay. Mentally I'm deteriorating. "Good, okay, sore?" He throws around a few possibilities, I shrug again.
"I'm okay." I tell him with a small smile, Harry still crouched beside me with my hand taken in his, our fingers intertwined.
"On a scale from 1 to 10 how are you?" He asks, I ponder the question for a few seconds, that feel like minutes, before answering cautiously.
"Seven." I watch as he scribbles down a few things on a clipboard, and I'm curious as to what it is.
"Okay, well we ended up running tests last night..." He tells us, looking between Harry and I briefly before continuing. How did they take tests? What kinds of tests? "And it seems you have social anxiety, did you know that?" He asks me, I don't react for a few moments. I've known since I was in high school that I've had social anxiety. But I'm afraid to tell him that. What if he thinks differently of me? Then the information may leak, in which case the fans would thrive on it and only use it against me. "I won't tell anyone." He swears. "This is confidential information." He smiles at me and I have to resist the urge to make him pinky promise.
"I've known since I was 15." I mumble, not meeting his eyes. I wish I hadn't said anything, I know he's just trying to cure me, but at this point am I really curable? What's done is done, all the damage and pain and everything, it's all taken its toll on my mental state of health.
"Have you had it diagnosed before now?" He asks me, I shake my head no. No one knew except my best friend, I didn't even tell my parents, they still don't know. "Okay..." He writes more on his clipboard. "We also found that you're suffering from depression, do you know that?"
I pause again before answering, finally looking at him, and seeing no judgement in his eyes, only kindness. I look over at Harry who's staring intently at me and its kind of creepy. "Yeah." I reply. "I kind of knew that. It wasn't diagnosed either, I never told my parents about any of this." I ramble, stopping myself. Why would I tell him that? I'm a horrible person. He probably thinks less of me now. Wow I'm pathetic.
"Okay... and lastly you are mentally and emotionally unstable, did you realize that at all?" He asks, I shrug, shaking my head no. It was only always a joke people teased me about, never something I knew I had.
"I never knew that." I tell him, I want him to leave, I have a short temper and I feel like I'm going to blow up any minute, but strangely, having to go through all this, I'm not hungry, just tired. He nods, quickly departing from us. Does he hate me now? Did I do something wrong?
"So, when can I go home?" I ask Harry but he shrugs, shaking his head no as if to tell me he doesn't know. I wish he'd leave too, I want to think this out, alone.
"Are you hungry?" He asks, I shake my head no. "You should eat, though." He coaxes, and as good as its starting to sound I don't want anything to eat, so I shake my head no again. "Okay." He sighs, kissing my temple. "I'm going to get some breakfast." He stands up, flashing me a smile before leaving.
I should be dead.
Harry's POV
Her blue eyes, once burning bright are now dull and lifeless. There was no emotion behind her voice like usual, she did not smile. Her eyes, though dull, looked as though she had built her wall up again, and it's not coming down again.
Her complexion, still young, but seemed lifeless. Its always had a natural glow, but it's dissapeared. She didn't hug me back, or kiss me back, or respond to any affection I bombarded her with, which was saddening.
Her smile, I didn't see it. It doesn't hold that sparkle, it didn't meet her eyes, her full lips were curved downward slightly. When she talked there was no emotion behind her voice, no liveliness to it, no humor or sass or anything, it was raspy and quiet.
She looks and sounds defeated and its fucking depressing.
Pam's POV
I battle the demonic voice in my head, and as fucked up as that sounds I don't care. A part of me needs the voice to leave and never return, but the other, larger part of me, wants it to stay so we can hang out- oh god I'm going crazy.
I wish I were dead though, no one would miss me. I'm not sure if my friends like me anymore, if they only tolerate me or if this is just some sick joke. I think everyone secretly hates me, I think the nurses in the hallway were laughing at me...
My eyelids become heavy, I miss my phone, I don't want to be here. Everything would be fine if I could just die.
~~
A/N: haii guyss hope you had an amazing valentines day! I spent mine at home. I could've caught a movie but I'm a lazy ass bitch so... I didn't lol but yeah vote and comment if you liked it
Qotd: did you have a valentine?
Meh: mine was food and wifi😘💜🍕🍕
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