Between Us [Spaces Sequel]

f o u r t e e n

I fell asleep in Harry's arms that night. His arms gave me just the comfort I had needed. I wanted to stay in his arms forever, but I knew he couldn't stay for as long as he did last time. Telling Harry about the encounter with my father had lifted a huge weight of my shoulders. Breathing felt a little easier and everything felt more bearable when I was in his arms.
I woke up feeling a little nauseous and I wondered where that came from since I usually never felt nausea. I turned around in Harry's arms several times, before the feeling got unbearable. I freed myself from his arms and ran to the bathroom. As soon as I was leaning over the toilet, the entire food from the past few days came out. At least that's what it felt like. It didn't stop and I didn't notice Harry entering the bathroom.
"Scar?" He mumbled and as soon as he saw me he rushed over to me. He held my hair out of my face, his left hand stroking my back. As my body gave me a short break from throwing up, I said, "Go away."
I didn't want him to see me in this state, especially because we hadn't been together for long and I probably looked like a mess.
"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, as my body decided it was time to start all over. My entire body was shaking and I could barely hold myself up on my knees.
"You're gonna be okay," Harry whispered and I could just imagine the look on his face. Worry.
After some time I stopped gagging. My body was still shaking, as I sat down on the cold bathroom floor. "Sorry."
"Don't you apologize," he said and then gave me a worried look. "Scar, there's blood."
"What?" I said, a little confused.
"There's blood in your vomit. I'm taking you to the hospital."
He flushed the toilet and then touched my forehead. "You're burning up. I'm getting you some water."
And with that he rushed to the kitchen. I didn't even bother getting up since my legs felt like they were liquified. A few seconds later, Harry was back and handed me the glass. I only took a small sip to make the disgusting feeling in my mouth and my throat go away. I brushed my teeth, before Harry carried me to the couch.
"I'm gonna get you some clothes," he said. "We're getting you to the hospital."
"Do we really have to go? I feel a lot better already," I lied. I just really didn't want to go. Hospitals gave me real bad vibes.
"Scarlett, I'm not stupid. You just threw up about half of your weight," he said. "There was blood, okay? You should take this as seriously as I am taking it."
"I just really don't want to-"
"No," he interrupted me. "I don't care if you don't want to go. This is serious. You might want to ignore this, but I'm not. It might not mean something to you, but your life means something to me. So I'm gonna get you to the hospital. I don't care if you don't want me to."
I sighed, as he left to get me some clothes from my room. I put my hand on my stomach which hurt like hell. I knew why, my hands tracing around the bruise my father gave me. Tears started falling from my eyes. Tears of sadness and tears of anger. My heart felt like it was exploding in my chest, my lungs were set on fire.
As Harry came back, fully dressed and with my clothes in his hands, he saw me and immediately rushed to the couch to hold my hand. By now, I was hysterically sobbing.
"I didn't mean to scream at you, Scar," he said, wiping my tears away. I shook my head and pressed his hand.
"I'm gonna get dressed," I said and grabbed the clothes from his hands, before entering the bathroom.

The ride to the hospital was silent. I wouldn't speak out of anger. And I knew Harry didn't know what to say to me. The only thing breaking the silence was the car radio, playing Chasing Cars which was one of my favorite songs. I hummed along quietly to quell the anger deep in my soul. The anger I felt towards my father and all he had done. All those years of him hurting me, I had never felt this kind of anger. Usually it was sadness, but now it had turned into anger and hatred and most of all disgust for the man I called my father all the years. But he had lost the privilege of being my father years ago, I knew that and so did he.
Harry grabbed my hand, keeping the other one on the steering wheel. Just this one touch of him, felt liberating and relieving, because I knew that in him I had found someone. A soulmate, a best friend. I knew he would always care for me. I knew he would never hurt me. And that was something I was extremely thankful for. All the love and safety that had lacked in my childhood and youth, he could give. Just the thought of him made me feel special.
I squeezed his hand slightly, making him smile a little. He said it himself: I was going to be okay.
I would find a way. There's always a way to change your fate.
He pulled into the parking lot and walked to the entrance with me, holding my hand the entire time. I was just happy that nobody had noticed who he was yet. All the photographers could get pretty annoying.
Harry explained my state to a nurse who had me sit down and wait for a doctor.
I was obviously nervous. The last time I had been at a hospital, my father almost beat me to death. And here I was again, just because of him.
"Hey, you're gonna be fine, alright?"
Harry gave me an encouraging smile. I gave him a slight smile and nod.
"What's on your mind?" He asked me.
A lot. Harry. My father. My life.
"I want him to suffer," I whispered, not believing that came out of my mouth. I would never hurt anyone, but I felt such anger towards my father. "I want him to go through the same things I went through. All the pain I felt, I want him to feel. I don't want to see him again, because I might kill him. I've come this far."
Harry just nodded. My father was dead to me. It was easier pretending that he was instead of knowing he was alive.