Malignant [h.s]

Ninety Four

Harry Styles

My eyes slowly blink open, being pierced by the white lights on the ceilings. I squint my eyes shut immediately from the adjustment- feeling my head start to pound. Everything's a bit blurry as I try to open my eyes again, but I slowly start to feel everything start to become more focused. I'm in the hospital, I'd recognize these stone ceiling and bright lifts anywhere.

"H-Harry?" The sweet voice that I could pick out in a heartbeat- mumbles to my right.

I turn my head slowly to the side and see Amelia, sitting there in the hospital chair. Her soft fragile hand placed in my big one. Her red bloodshot eyes had bags underneath from lack of sleep and her face was paler then usual.

But she still didn't look any less than beautiful.

I don't know what to say, I'm scared that whatever noise comes out of my mouth will only just push her farther away from me.

"H-hi." My weak voice forces out.

I have no idea what time it is or what day it is, but all I know is that I got in a huge fight with Amelia when I was drunk. I only remember bits and pieces of it but nothing that resulted on getting me here. It wasn't until I looked down at my chest that I saw a big white patch in the center but a bit to my left- directly over where my heart was.

A small tub sits above my upper lip, supplying me light oxygen through my nose. I'm hooked up to different machines and tubs throughout my body.

"Do you remember anything that happened?" Her tired voice almost whispers to me as she slowly tucks her hair behind her ear.

"I-I was fighting with you." I clear my throat mildly, feeling like a machine been hooked up to all these things. She slowly nods before speaking again.

"You passed out and had a seizure Harry. Your heart was beating so fast from the cocaine, that you were so close to a heart attack." She explains through her pink lips.

"Oh." Is all I manage to say.

"You were rushed into heart surgery. It's been four days." She adds, so much hurt diluting her voice.

"Have you been here this entire time?" I immediately ask, feeling guilty. She shouldn't have to stay here for me.

"Yes." She simply answers.

"I-I'm sorry." I stutter in guilt.

"I wanted to stay here." She rejects.

"No, no I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for screaming at you, I'm sorry for saying terrible things to you, I'm sorry for lying to you, I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for everything." I correct, spilling out a list of things I've done wrong- knowing theirs so many more.

Her lips shut softly, swallowing the lump in her throat by my words.

"You need to rest, if you get all worked up then you'll get hurt even more." She whispers while pulling her hand out of mine, placing it alone on her lap. A small part of me breaks from just the small movement of separation.

She doesn't forgive me, and I don't know if she ever will.

"Can you tell me what I said to you the other night? I remember parts of it but only enough to know that I was out of line. I should have never screamed at you like I did." I explain.