Psychosis.

Three

"Do you drink a lot of porridge? It says here that people who drink too much porridge get symptoms like yours." Harry asks, face not even an inch away from the book in his hands.

I couldn't hold back the laughter that escaped my mouth, "There is no way it seriously says that."

Harry looks up to me, a smirk on his face. I don't understand how a boy could be so beautiful. It's like he's one of those colorful tropical fish, and every other guy could barely be a goldfish.

"Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. Either way, too much porridge is gross." He chuckles, then turns over onto his back across the foot of his bed.

I sit criss-cross in the centre right in front of his pillows, and as he moves, I stretch my legs out and lay down. I rest my feet on his chest, and let out a breath as I close my eyes.

"What do you think that Niall guy is on?" He asks, and I laugh again at that.

"Probably crack. Or weed. Depends on what day it is, I guess." I smile at my over used joke, and Harry laughs.

It's quiet for a few minutes, then Harry breaks the silence, "Do you think he was serious?"

I scoff, then lean up on my elbows, "Of coarse not. He's insane."

Harry is quiet for a while again, and finally sits up on his bed, my legs on his lap, "Something about him seems like he wasn't lying, you know?"

"I dunno, maybe." I shrug, then grab the book from Harry's hands.

I flip through the pages, not understanding any word of it, and sigh. My chest tightens suddenly, and I find myself coughing extremely hard as my lungs ached for air.

Harry grabs my purse at a fast pace, then searches for my inhaler.

I don't feel like I need my inhaler, though.

I just need, well, air.

I push the thumb shaped top of the device and breath in, despite my reasoning, but the cough just continues.

I'm wheezing at this point with a heavy feeling of being lightheaded, and Harry panics.

"Mum! Help!" He screams, and my coughing stops, but I can't breathe.

There's no real way to describe the pain in my chest, and the fear that has taken over me does not make it easier to breathe.

Mrs. Anne runs into Harry's room, which seems to be caving in, and screams out for Gemma to call the police.

Damn it, I thought, because if they took me to a hospital, which is likely the case, there won't be any caring parents to be there for me or any thing as sweet as that.

It'll just be me in there, surrounded by beeping machines and saline bags.

~

I wake up with something attached to my arm, and I reach for it to take it off.

"No, no sweetheart. You have to keep that on." Professor James' distinct voice is heard, and I groan at the sound.

I finally open my eyes and take in my surroundings, there's a nurse writing on the whiteboard in front of me, Professor James and Cara are sitting at the side of the bed I'm laying in, and Harry is sitting my the window with his knees to his chest, looking broken.

I notice I'm not in jeans and a tshirt anymore, but I am now in a blue and white hospital gown.

"What's going on?" I speak, and Harry's head snaps up, hope clear within his eyes, but he doesn't move.