Just keep breathing

Chapter 80

Katie's perspective

"Harry?" I croak in the general direction of the fluffy mess of short brown curls that are bowed over in concentration to my right, staring at something in his lap intently.

My voice doesn't seem to want to work, and the sound that comes out is little more than a whisper, but somehow, he manages to hear me. His head snaps up, and his remarkable green eyes lock with mine, making my breath catch in my throat.

I watch as his eyes fill with tears as he looks at me, overflowing in an instant and running down his perfectly structured cheekbones as he pushes himself up from the chair, whatever it was he had in his lap hits the ground with a dull thud.

He doesn't seem to care or even notice. He closes the space between us in the blink of an eye and before I know it he's leaning down over me, a huge smile spreading across his plump lips, in complete contrast with the tears streaming down his face.

I run my tongue over my lips in preparation for the kiss I expect to hit me at any moment, but there doesn't seem to be a drop of moisture in my mouth, swallowing uncomfortably I flick my eyes around quickly in search of water and spot a jug a small plastic table nearby.

I turn back to Harry to request some, and it's only then that I realise that he has stopped moving, his lips haven't come crashing down on to mine as I expected them to.

Instead, he hovers, looking incredibly uncomfortable, supporting himself on one arm as he leans over me, his eyes flicking between my own, and the steadily beeping machine behind me, a look of fear stretching over his features.

"Katie," He says in a small, timid voice.

"Yes, Harry?" I croak back, raising my eyebrows in confusion.

It takes me a few moments to realise why he's being so cautious with me. The last time I woke up, I wasn't exactly myself...

I remember being utterly confused, and scared, more scared than I can ever recall being before. I remember the woman with the short dark hair reaching out to me, wanting me to touch her hand but, for some reason, I was positive that she wanted to hurt me.

An image of my own hand lashing out at her flashes before my eyes, and a shudder runs through me at the memory.

I have a vague recollection of someone else being in the room with us, only, was it Harry? There was a man here that I'm sure of, but when I search through my mind to bring up a face, all that returns is a blurry outline.

"Baby, I'm going to call the doctor in OK?" Harry says warily as he straightens himself up and starts to walk away from me.

I try and reach out a hand to grab him, to keep him with me, I don't want him to leave, but my arm doesn't seem to want to move.

It's like that feeling you get when you've slept in a funny position and wake up with no control over a limb, only its not just one of my limbs, but all of them.

By the time I have managed to raise my arm a few inches, Harry has already gone, leaving nothing but a swinging white glass panelled door behind him.

Looking around the small white-walled room, I try and take in my surroundings. I'm in a hospital, that much I'm fairly certain of. But, how long have an I been here? A day or two? Longer? I don't remember feeling this disorientated last time...

I wish Harry would come back so I can ask him.

Feeling the panic rising in my chest as a million questions flood my mind, I close my eyes and take several deep breaths, relieved to not feel any resistance from my lungs as the air flows into them.