Break Me-A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter 37-Too Late

*Harry's POV*

I don't sleep for very long, mostly because every time I close my eyes, all I can see is the haunting image of Bella's limp and unresponsive body lying still on the ground.
A dull ache resides permanently in my chest. Did you know that it was possible for your heart to physically hurt? Well, it is, and the more time that passes, the larger this ache grows, and swells, and reminds me of this horrific situation.
I had her, and I lost her. This twisted reoccurrence is the most cruel, unimaginable thing to ever happen to me, to Gemma, to Bella. I had her. In my arms, wrapped up in the security of my grip. I lost her. With nothing but a whisper, she was still unsatisfied, so she took it upon herself to find her way out of this long, confusing, contradicting, and scary maze that we call life. I had her, and I lost her.
I have no more tears, they've all dried up. The initial panic that consumed me has died down almost as soon as it settled in. Now I feel nothing. Empty and alone, numb and vulnerable. Is this how Bella felt? So without life? So without purpose? The thought dawns on me so quickly, so heavily, that I feel instantly nauseous.
I jump from my seated position in the waiting room, and sprit down the hallway, hoping to make it to the toilet before it's too late. The endless twists and turns of the hospital's corridors prove to be too long for my fragile stomach, so I settle for a near by trash can, and proceed to vomit profusely inside of it. As well as the contents of my stomach, everything else seems to pour out of me, tears, snot, feelings, all exit my body, and splatter harshly onto the bottom of the bin.
"Feel better?" A low voice asks me. I straighten up, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and glare at the smiling man before me. Dr. Telesco, Bella's incompetent and idiotic doctor.
"Yeah, great." I reply sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest. Noticing my apparent dislike towards him, he frowns.
"I'm doing everything I can for Isabella, the lacerations are extremely deep, and my only fear is that she's cut into the nerve-"
"I don't want to hear this!" I wince. The horrifying images begin to reply in my mind, switching from my sister, to Bella, and back again. I bawl my hands into fists, and dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from crying again. The doctor sighs.
"It's Harry, isn't it?" He asks calmly, almost sounding sincerely concerned. I nod. "Harry, I'm doing everything I can for your friend, please understand that."
"My girlfriend." I correct him through gritted teeth. Dr. Telesco says nothing, he only looks down at me with sad eyes and a heavy frown, almost as if he's apologizing to me. As if this is his way of saying, "I'm sorry there's nothing more I can do." And suddenly I feel sick and sad again, so I turn away from him, and throw up the remaining contents of my stomach into the trash can.

~*~

I can't sit in the waiting room any longer. It's depressing, and it wreaks of death, and tears in there. Bella's family remain unmoving in a huddle-type position, all clinging onto each other for dear life, and I can't stand to watch it anymore. It enables me to see the situation through their eyes-their daughter, so happy one second, incredibly depressed the next. Her smile, bright and enchanting, but not quite reaching the eyes. Her deep blue irises, so expressive, so bottomless, so foretelling of all that she feels; sadness, loneliness, emptiness. Her wrists, lined with red marks that run like train tracks along her skin. Their daughter, abused by the boy she loved, damaged, broken, self-destructive. Trying to take her own life as a result of the havoc that arises within her.
It hurts me-physically pains me-how much I love this girl. How much I love every inch of her, every cut, every scratch, every tear, every strained string of her heart. It kills me to know that she can't see it, she can't see herself the way I see her. In my eyes, she's perfect, a survivor, stronger than she thinks. But in her eyes, she's weak, unimportant, fragile, impotent. I love her, but she cannot hear me over the demons in her own head.
I wander aimlessly around the hospital, peering into the windows of each room. Each room holds a story, a child with a broken arm, a father with a weak heart, a sister taking her last breath. Each room has a loss, a gain, a history. I just hope that Bella won't turn into another sob story.

As I near the cafeteria, I spot Bella's father standing before the coffee machine, pouring himself a mug of the steaming beverage. Bella loves coffee-one milk, two sugars.
I turn away from Marcus, praying that he won't see me. Only once I make my decent down the hall, I knock into a stack of plastic chairs, causing them to topple over with a loud crash. Numerous nurses rush to the aid of the inanimate objects, scurrying around me to pick them up, and put them in their proper place.
"Harry?" Marcus calls me from down the hall. Fuck. I turn slowly, only to find him walking towards me, coffee in hand.
"Hi." I say in monotone.
"How-uh, where have you been?"
"Just, like, walking around, I guess." I shrug, rubbing the base of my neck with my palm. This is awkward and uncomfortable. I don't know what to say.
"Right." Marcus says. He looks discombobulated, dark circles sagging under his red-rimmed eyes, pale skin, messy hair. "You know, you can sit with us if you'd like. I-I know this is hard for you, God, this is hard for all of us, but, uh, j-just know that we're here for you, too." He rambles on. I feel sorry for him, I truly do. He obviously loves his daughter more than life itself, but he seems to be another person that Bella has yet to recognize as her ally.
"Thanks." Is all I say.
"Did you, um, know that she was going to-?" He can't finish his sentence, tears pouring from his eyes, as his bottom lip trembles. Shit. I have no idea how to comfort this man, when I can't even comfort myself.
"No. I didn't." I tell him earnestly. If I had known that she would do this, I would tell her that if she was going to kill herself, she would have to kill me too, because life without her is not worth living. Life without her is not living at all, it's just surviving. She awakened a spark within me, just as I had done for her, but I failed her. Because my spark was simply replenished by her presence, where hers was not-the spark that I ignited in her died out. I should have recognized that. I should have saved her from burning out completely. Now it's too late.
"Harry?" Marcus speaks. His voice sounds so small, so helpless, each word slices through my skin, opening it up, and drawing blood. "If-if she doesn't make it, then I just want you to know that you're the best thing that's ever happened to her. She really loved you."
I dig my fingernails into my palms, creating moon-shaped crevices on the surface on the flesh.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
I can't cry again, not here, not anymore, because she will make it. She has to. I can't manage to picture myself in a life that once contained her, but now no longer holds her spirit. That's like having a taste of heaven, then being thrown back down to Earth, and I can't do it. She's my heaven, my paradise, my light, my soul, my everything, and if I can't keep her here on Earth with me then I don't deserve to be here myself.
Wet tears are pooling in my eyes, but I can't let them fall, because if I let them fall then that means that I'm entertaining the idea that she might not make it, and that I have to let her go, and I can't. I can't let her go anywhere but back home with me.
"Harry," Marcus says again. "It's okay to cry. I know you're hurting, we all are. It doesn't make you weak to cry." He tells me, but he doesn't get it. He doesn't get the fact that this is all my fault. I should have saved her, I should have saved Bella. I should have known that she was hurting and I should have taken her by the hand, and told her all of the amazing things that I see in her. But now it's too late, and now the tears are falling again, and now I've failed yet another person who was slowly dying from the inside out.
"I-I'm sorry," I croak out, as clear droplets fall mercilessly from my eyes, and stream down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault. I should have saved her."
"No," Marcus shakes his head, and places one hand of each of my shoulders. He stares directly into my eyes, his holding the same shade of blue that Bella's have, only hers are brighter, more radiant. "No Harry, listen, it's no one's fault." He's holding me by the shoulders, and we're both crying in the hallway in a busy hospital, and I can't seem to help but wonder when my life turned into a dramatic soap opera.
"It is, it's mine. I should have saved her." I cry, blinking rapidly in an attempt to stop the flow of tears. Only it doesn't help, nothing seems to break this never ending river of water that stings my eyes whenever I think of Bella.
"Marcus!" A shrill voice causes both of our heads to snap in its direction. "Marcus, come quick!" Bella's mother shouts from down the hall, looking frantic and disoriented. Marcus steps away from me, and inches closer to his wife.
"What? What is it?" He questions, which only causes his wife to break down into hysterical sobs. She clamps her hand over her mouth to suppress the cries that build up in her throat-just as Bella does, and Marcus is quick to her side, wrapping an arm around her, as he helps her on her unsteady feet.
"What is it, Lynn? What's wrong?" He asks hurriedly. Her eyes meet his for what feels like forever. I can feel my heart pounding in my ears, and the sweat that's pooling in the palms of my hands. My breathing is heavy and uncontrollable, the air unable to smoothly pour into my lungs to produce the oxygen I so desire. The tension-filled atmosphere is so silent, that you could hear the sound of a pin drop, and Marcus and I both take deep breaths as we wait for Lynn to explain her sudden outburst.
She wipes her eyes, intaking a sharp breath in an attempt to calm herself down before speaking.

"It's Bella." She cries, and we both know exactly what that means.