A Boy Named Harry

Chapter 1

It was in the middle of the night I felt it, the blood. This wasn't the first time, but it's not like I was used to it. I was tired, really. Tired of this happening, tired of being sick. But just like the other times, I called my mother from downstairs to help clean it up. She came running upstairs, worried something was actually wrong. Looking at my bed she saw the pool on my sheets and the dried red color on my nose. Her eyes widened and she gasped at the sight. I sighed knowing what was coming next.

"Louis, get up. Out of bed. We are going to the hospital."

I rolled my eyes knowing she wasn't going to back down, so I dared to argue. I pushed the blanket off of me and stumbled out, trying to avoid the blood but it was inevitable. I could barely walk, so my mum had to hold me. She pet my hair and shushed me assuring me everything was going to be okay, but I knew it was anyway. I fell into my seat in the car and laid my head against the head rest. Breathing heavy, wishing this was all over, my eyes began to become heavy. I could hear my mom screaming for me to stay with her. I was, but I was just tired. I loved listening to the sound of the cars moving on the road, and the crickets chirping in the night. I rolled my window down and smiled at the noise as we moved.

"Louis, honey. We are here. I'm going to get you a wheelchair. You stay here, don't try to get out," she shook my arm. My head turned over to the window. My mum opened the door, it seemed as everything was moving quite fast. She helped me sit into the wheelchair and I fumbled the one foot into it from the car. She wheeled me into the E.R. and the nurses recognized me from my thousands of times being there. They instantly opened up a room for me and performed the usual when this happened. Hooking me up to countless IVs, checking my blood pressure and heart rate, comparing my current stats to my last ones, checking my calendar to see that I wasn't due to come in until Tuesday. They all moved so quickly, but I didn't pay attention. I stared at the ceiling, closing my eyes, waiting for the hell to calm. I could overhear some of the conversation between the nurses, but I couldn't make out the words, but not like I cared to.

"Louis," one of them says as they shine a light in my eyes, or it felt like. "We are going to sedate you. We need to run some test and need you asleep. We are pumping the fluid now. In a moment you are going to feel sleepy, so don't worry," she kept on talking, but I didn't listen. She was right, I could feel the medicine work into my bloodstream. My eyes fought to stay awake, but lose the battle. As my head rolled over onto my pillow my eyes immediately were caught by the dark boots under the curtain of the room next to mine. I tried to see where they would lead, wonder what kind of person may be wearing them. I imagined a biker, covered in tattoos, swears after every word he said. Telling this story makes me smile, knowing how wrong I was about the person behind the boots.