The Demons In My Head

Chapter 18

"Good morning honey!" greets the overly cheery nurse.

I nod at her, but I close my eyes, too tired to talk once again.

The nurse always comes in to check on me, my bandages and my IV's and such. I guess you could say, she won't fucking leave me alone!

"Still can't talk?" she asks, pressing her cold hand to my forehead.

I shake my head 'no.' That's the truth. It feels like someone stuck a hot branding iron down my throat everytime I try to speak, so I just gave up on talking.

I look down and my folded hands, resting on the white cotton blanket. They look pale, almost translucent. You can see the blue veins under my skin, all puffy from whatever is flowing through them from the IV.

"You need anything? Water?"

I nod, and she quickly pours me a cup, setting it on the table in front of me. "You didn't touch your food," she points out.

I shrug, pushing my plate out of the way. The smell makes me gag. Hospital food is worse than no food.

She looks down at me, and takes me plate from me, putting it with the other dirty ones on her cart. She walks back over to the bed, sitting next to me. She takes my cold wrists in her warm hands, rubbing my new cuts. "It was more than just an accident wasn't it."

I look up at her, tears welding up in my eyes. "It's everything," I croak, not even worrying about the pain anymore. I'm desperate for someone to talk to.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, but I'm telling you, it gets better, I promise." She stands up, kissing me on the cheek before making her way out of my room, closing the door behind her.

Silence. At first, I loved it. Living in a house with five boys, most of the time, you miss the stillness after awhile, but now, nothing scares me more than silence.

My eyes begin to droop as the morphine kicks in, and soon, everything goes black once again.

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***Nathan's POV***

"I need seven plane tickets to Vancouver, Canada, please hurry it's urgent."

Paul and Kevin stand at the counter, waiting for the lady to print out our boarding passes.

The lads all surround me, hugging me and telling me everything is okay, but I know it's not. Knowing that Taylor is in a hospital, unconscious, and in pain without me, it makes things difficult. Music used to help me through the dark times, and now, it's pulling me through them. If I didn't go on tour, Taylor would be fine, and we'd be together right now.

"Let's go boys, we got a private jet, we'll get there quicker." The sound of Paul's voice snaps me out of my trance. I stand up, grab my bag and make my way to the plane. I brush past the flight attendant and sit in the chair closest to the door, so when we land, I can just run out and see my girl.

Taylor, baby, I'm coming for you. Everything is going to be okay, I'm here.

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Taylor's POV

When I'm sleeping, all I see is Nathan. We sit in a park, our hands linked, me laying on his chest as we look up into the starry night. He points out the constellations, then laughs and says, "at least that's what I think it is. I know nothing about astronomy." I stretch my hands up and play with his hair, feeling the soft curls between my fingers. Nathan hates his curls, which is why he styles his hair, or covers it with a beanie, but I always tell him I love his curls.

But then I wake up, and I'm greeted by the blinding light of the sun, bouncing off the pale green walls and the white tiled floors. The beeping machines, the horrendous smell of hospital food, and the pinching needles and tubes in my arms. I look above me, seeing a clear bag of fluid, slowly dripping beside a bag full of blood.

Once again, the nurse greets me, changes the bags, checks my tubes and bandages, asks if I need anything, then walks back out.

I can talk today. My voice is finally starting to come back, but the pain in my arm is stronger. I did some damage to the muscle, and even the bone. When the car pushed me into the wall, the door broke my arm, and it got stuck, cracking the bone almost in half. Today, the swelling is gone, but it's still purple, I can see the bruise at the top of my cast.

I shift my weight, grabbing my phone from the nightstand beside my bed. I scroll through my twitter feed, only to be worried. The boys haven't tweeted in a day, and fans are saying that they cut the concert half way. I immediately dial Nathan's number, but it goes straight to voicemail. The heart rate monitor speeds up, my breath quickens, and my temperature rises.

The nurse runs in, looking alarmed. She rests her hands on my shoulders, looking into my worried eyes. "Honey, breathe, slow down your heart rate my love."

"Nath-na-Nathan," I cry, and begin to thrash. "NATHAN!!!" I scream, sending a sharp pain down my throat, all the way to my toes.

"He's fine, we got in touch with his manager, they're okay. Taylor, calm down," she soothes. "Close your eyes and breathe."

I close my eyes, mimicking the nurse's breaths. My heartbeat slows, my temperature drops, and my breath returns to normal.

"It's okay, it's okay," she soothes, hugging me. She rubs my bare back, since the hospital gown only covers the front.

"Nathan..." I cry again, hugging the nurse tighter.

"I'm sure he's perfectly fine. Just try and get some sleep, okay?"

I nod, and lay back on my bed, closing my eyes, but my mind is wide awake.