Be My Mascot

Chapter 67

Hm..so a while back I was all like "BMM is ending soon" and about ten or so chapters later I'm still writing.. I JUST CAN'T STOP

Chapter 67

Niall's POV

Her body becomes limp in my arms, head dangling over the side and feet motionless.

"Christ," I mutter, squeezing my eyes closed, not able to glance down at her immobile frame. I've only ever been utterly scared one time before in my life, this closely following behind in second place. The first, being the day I was away in London and receiving a call from Bailey herself saying that she almost got hit by a car. That was one of the moments where I was fully educated in the fact that I love her so fucking much and the thought of not returning to her was deplorable.

But this is so much worse. I hurt her. I laid a fucking hand on her, my worst nightmare and now she's unconscious in my grasp. I don't deserve to hold her right now, not after what I just did.

Self aggression, frustration, and anger boil up inside of me. We were doing so well. We're engaged, living together, happy, dramaless, and now this. Now I just had to tremendously fuck up to the extent of me physically hurting her.

And all to try and get back at Harry for kissing her. If I could, I would take back everything that just happened in a heartbeat. Bailey wouldn't be out cold and I'd even let Harry go, unharmed. Fuck him, right now I could give less than a shit about beating his ass. I just need her to wake up.

"Do you want me to call someone? Her mum?" he timidly speaks up and my fists unintentionally clench.

"No." I grit my teeth. "I don't want you to do anything."

I'm loosing my cool quickly with this bastard.

I turn my head to find him crouching on his knees, worriedly looking back from me to Bailey. He's too close to her and I hate it.

"But she might need medical attention!" Harry argues, standing up to dig his phone out of the stupid maroon apron strapped around his waist.

"Don't you dare fucking call anyone. I don't need your help, I'm fixing this shit on my own. Just get me an ice pack for her and then I'm leaving," I coldly order and he glares back at me but obeys my command, disappearing into the backroom.

My hand delicately skims over the back of her head, careful not to cause any more damage than I already have.

Any air that is left in my lungs after Bailey collapsing has been ripped out, leaving me gasping for breath when I pull back my hand.

A trickling line of dark, red blood is cascading down and over the ridges of my knuckles, stopping when it hits my palm. There isn't a lot of blood, but it's enough to have my lip start to quiver in panic.

I need to get her out of here and fast.

Harry can't see this, though. He'll be sure to tell her mum, being the arsehole he is, and the less information she knows, the better. I rapidly smear the blood on my black jeans, the color blending in.

"Harry!" I shout and just as I do, he scampers out of the backroom with two packs of ice in both hands. When they are thrown my way, I immediately tuck one under her head, firmly pressing it to the incredibly sore bruise that is highly expected to appear in a few hours. I place the other ice pack in my back pocket for when the first one begins to melt.

I struggle to fix her body weight so that it is positioned securely around myself. Her head is dangling off of my bicep and I attempt to move it up to my shoulder so it doesn't thump when I move. I wobble when I try to stand up on to my feet with her in my arms. My emotions right now are playing me and I can't, can't under any circumstances, break in front of Harry.