Virus: 3028

7

Chapter 7! I'm posting chapter 8 and 9 today also, because it's Virus: 3028 marathon today!!

_________________________________

I open my eyes.

I’m laying down at the same bed I was earlier, the hospital one. Harry is sitting down in a chair in front of me. He’s staring at me. Why is he staring at me? Is there something wrong?

“Barbara!” He says, his eyes wide opened. “Are you alright? I was too worried. I thought you…” Were dead? Nah, doesn’t make sense. He probably just wants me to feel loved, even when I am not.

“Why would you worry that much?” I ask.

“Well, Isabelle said you were in coma. ‘That would be better for all of us’…” He says, probably copying her.

“Did she say that?” I ask, astonished. I didn’t know she hated me like that. But why? Just because I ignored her? This can’t be…

“That’s exactly what she said, Barbara...”

“Barb.”

“Okay, Barbara. I was worried, but not because of that. That was just plain stupid. You obviously weren’t in coma. And she’s a bitch.” He tells me with a smile on his face. I smile back. I love his tiny dimples when he smiles. His white teeth, his thin lips. His crooked smile. His not-curly but not-straight hair. His beautiful green eyes. His handsome face. I love Harry in general, which is stupid because we just properly met and he doesn’t love me back.

“Well, then why?”

“Because I was sure you weren’t feeling okay. You just fell asleep, but I noticed you were crying. Your face is still… um, red.”

I cover my face with my hands trying to hide my red face from him. Is it that ugly? Yeah, I know, I know. If you imagine the ugliest face in the world… mine is probably worse.

“You still look good,” he compliments me. “You look… pretty. So much I still wonder why aren’t you a super model.”

“I wonder why aren’t you an actor” I say as a response. “You’re a really good actor. The best.” I sound sarcastic. Hell yes. I love being a sarcastic bitch.

“Me? No way! Why would you say that?” He asks, confused. I can’t contain my laughter.

“Because you know how to make me feel special and loved when I’m not.” I look down. He knows it’s true. How could somebody love someone like me? I’m not pretty. I’m anything special. I’m just… me.

“Barbara, I love you. I know I don’t know you that much, but you don’t need to know somebody’s blood type to love that somebody. Love is love.” He stands right beside me and holds me hand.

“Say it again.”

“I love you!” He shouts. “I love you, Barbara!”