Abandoned (A Harry Styles FanFic)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Days past by where Harry wouldn't leave my side, he was always there. If I woke up during the night with fright, he would hold me, if I wanted to talk and cuddle into his chest even if he just wanted to sleep, he would stay awake and hold me. He was always there holding me. We had countless conversations which I will hold dear to my heart but I just want to go home. I want things to go back to the way they were, and I almost wish I never told Harry everything. He will never let things go back to the games we used to play. I've realized, over the past week, that he's actually sensitive and he actually cares. He wont let me continue being some tease because he knows my weaknesses now. I wont even feel comfortable trying to act like I have everything over him, I have nothing. He has everything on me, telling him will blow back in my face.

Several days pass and today when I wake, my palms are abnormally sweaty, even with the constant night terrors. I looked to Harry who had been lying down, sleeping while I maintained my entertainment with a stick and the dirty sand at the bottom of the shack. I felt sweaty, I felt icky.

I figure that the air in the shack is just getting humid from the heat of us two being in close proximity for a while. Maybe I need fresh air. I push myself, with as much effort as I contain, which doesn't seem to be much, to a stand. My vision blurs for a moment and then it refocuses. Harry roles over in his sleep and I had momentarily worried that I had woken him. But I didn't. He was sleeping some well deserved sleep. As I look at him, his sloppy unkept curls bled out in front of his face, his muscular build wrapped in a soft fabric keeping him at a nice cozy temperature, my vision blurs once again.

This time my head begins to throb. My heart beat pounding from within my head and it starts to race faster. I massage my head in hopes of relieving some pain, and continue to surround myself with some fresh air.

I walk myself to the shed door, which is a longer distance than I recall, and open it. The sunlight hits my face, only emphasizing my headache a tad. My sweaty hands slowly shut the door behind me, avoiding making any noise. I trudge myself over to the nearest tree that is about 100 feet away from the house. 100 feet too many if you ask me. I level my heavy body to the ground and plop against the tree.

It feels calm, it feels nice. There is a refreshing breeze that takes away from my humid icky feel. I lay my head against the tree bark for a few moments while I feel my eyes drift off. I must've napped for a bit because my eyes are extremely groggy when I peel them open.

My hands, however, were still clammy and sweaty at the same time. As I looked at my palms, and twisted my hands out in front of me, I saw them beginning to grow white. Pale white, more so than my usual Caucasian tone.

Scared of my body's reaction to the breeze I try to arrive back at the sheds entrance. I wobble half way there until my knees grow weak, then I crawl. I remain determined to get to the shed and lay down for a bit, even if it is still foggy clouds of humidity within the musky room.

When I finally arrive at the shed, I prop myself upright, find myself staring in one of the glasses as a mirror and bring my hands to my face. My face has grown paler than my hands and thinner too. My cheek bones stand out as the skin between my eyes and lips lacks color and life. The bags under my eyes have never been quite this dark. I grow myself even more sick while looking at my reflection and thinking about what my body is going through. My next point of interest is my wound, which I place my hands around. Maybe I'm paranoid, mirrors aren't quite so accurate. Maybe I look less lifeless and more vibrant than I think I do. But I am wrong.

When I let myself back into the shack, Harry is awake and seems to be looking for something while interrogating me, curious as to where I ran off to. It is obvious that he is in a good mood, I can practically hear his smile through his words. When I clear my throat beginning to speak, his eyes look to my face and grow worried. The smile that had just been there is gone. His eyes wide and mouth gaping open a tad as his green orbs examine my every detail.

"Scar?" he begins to talk but I cut him off.

"I'm fine," I gather while my hands begin to sweat heavier and a drop of sweat rolls down my forehead onto my cheek, "I think I need to lay down," I continue and try my hardest to advance towards him. But my feet are too shaky.

"Are you feeling alright?" he comes over to me to support me and takes my boney limbs in his hand. He intertwines his fingers with mine and helps guide me to the make shift bed.

"Yeah I just want to lay down," I say trying to force out a smile. He helps me down on the bed and sits beside me.

Good thing that the bed is where it is, one single more step would've made me collapse to the ground, and he knew it too. A tear of pain streams down my cheek. Harry takes notice but doesn't acknowledge it.

"Scar how are you feeling? Come on be honest with me, don't give me this just being tired bullshit."

My body goes tense at the repeat of his question. My grip on his hand tightens as I try to avoid answering the interrogation. Even if I'm looking out for him, trying to be easy to take care of, and making him happy, I can't avoid being honest. It may be fatal to myself, and that would destruct every reason I'm lying to him.

"Not well," I choke out, and begin to sob slightly. Trying to hold back tears and save whatever water and strength I have in me to stay calm, but everything hurts. My eyes are dry, not quite watery, but they're stressed as if they contained water, "I don't feel so hot, Harry," I continue to cry.

"What's wrong Scar? What hurts?" His hand goes to my forehead and his other hand is still connected with mine.

"Everything hurts, I feel sick," I cough as my sobs get harder to let out, "my neck stings and I can't feel my limbs..." I pause to catch my breath, suddenly my body becomes calm. Everything still hurts, maybe becoming even more painful, but I no longer have the option to cry, I just feel faint as if I'm not even in my own body anymore, and then I continue to explain, "my throat hurts and my head is pounding, I'm really dizzy and I just want to sleep," with the thought of sleep on my mind, my eyes fall closed and my mind wanders off. I feel my knees buckle and it feels as though a hammer hits my head and then the lights go out. But I can still feel.

Harry's hands retract to his side quickly and then effortlessly scoop me into his chest.

"I've gotta get you to a hospital, Scar! Please please hold on, okay?" I try to nod at his words but nodding would only hurt. I let my head nuzzle against his chest and try to count his paces to calm me down. The counting brings me closer to a drift into sleep, "You have to stay awake, Scarlet," Harry insists.

"No, no," I can't really see but my mind goes hysterical, "Brandon hates me. Don't make him worry. Just leave me be!!!" I'm screaming as loud I can with my non existent voice. And everything goes calm again. I can't feel anything anymore. And I can't tell what he's saying anymore. And I no longer feel like I'm containing this body. I can't really tell where Harry's running but I begin to regain notice when Harry's body, still hurdling me, enters the back seat of a car. Words are exchanged and Harry brushes my hair with his hand, gently but in a stressed manner.

I hear him cuss under his breath a few times and demand quicker routes. Before I can probably even count to ten in this state, Harry rushes from the vehicle into a building. Into weird lighting, my eyes don't need to be open to sense the difference of lighting from the outside world to this facility. Harry's voice had been talking to me the whole time but his voice became faint. I can hear his voice recommending me to hold on and wait for him. But I don't.