What is wrong with me? I question myself. I look around the room where I see all white. I'm wearing a hospital gown and I'm lying in a hospital bed.
Why am I in the hospital? These questions will never be answered, yet they always cross my mind.
"Harry...Styles? A nurse calls. I look up now and see a woman with brunette hair and green eyes. She has a look of concern shadowing her features.
Is there something wrong with me? I question again.
Why do I keep doing this? It obviously solves nothing
"Mr. Styles how's your headache?"
I sigh, trying to sit up and immediately feel a thorobbing ache in the back of my head.
"N-not good." I groan. "Can I have some painkillers?"
She sighs in defeat. I know that by her sigh, that painkillers are a no.
''I'm sorry Mr. Styles... I can not allow that right now..." She looks down and links her hands together. "I however can give you something to help you rest."
I nods and soon see her stick me with a needle. It has some sort of medicine, maybe anesthesia, and moments later I'm sleeping soundly.
I couldn't have been asleep for long before I woke up profusely vomiting. I threw up in the floor, on my bed, but worst of all I thew up all over myself. Before I knew it i had a huddle of nurses all around me. A few guy nurses and the rest were girls.
"What's his vitals?" I heard a guy ask. Mostly everything else was just a blur. I feel them poking at me, sticking me with needles, and doing whatever it took to check me over.
"He has a high temperature! Someone yells.
" His white blood count is low!" Another adds.
Well this is just wonderful, isn't it? I thought to myself. Nothing could possibly get worse than this, right? Wrong. So very wrong.
I don't remember much after that. Just my eyes slowly rolling into the back of my head. Then it was lights out for me.
