Cut!

Take 35 - One Thing - Part 4

A/N: Comment as you read. This is the last part of the last chapter. After this, only the Epilogue remains, so spam away with every thought you have. 

I turned around to see a tall blonde girl stare back at me. She was quite tall, and somehow, she seemed familiar.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“None of your beeswax,” she said. “You can’t be here. He doesn’t want to see you.”

“I don’t believe that,” I muttered.

“Look,” she said. “I get it. He’s your idol, and you thought that you had something special, but guess what? You don’t. You’re not different from the thousands of other girls standing in line outside with a hope to catch just one glimpse of him.” She narrowed her eyes. “So back the fuck off, or I’ll call security.”

Her words felt like being stabbed in the heart. Of course, I wasn’t anything special—I knew that. I’d known that all my life.

“I just want to see if he’s okay,” I said, tears welling in my eyes.

“Of course he’s not alright,” she said. “He got shot because of you—because of you and your sister’s lie. You know, he might have fractured his hipbone—he might not be able to perform again. You’ve ruined his life.”

My hand flew to my mouth, covering the gasp that threatened to escape. My tears began to fall freely now. I’d ruined him. This perfect man-boy with a smile that could bright up the world, and now I’d doomed him. This was all my fault.

“Please,” the girl said with a snort. “You don’t fool me with your fake tears.”

“I know this is my fault,” I whispered. “I know it. And ever since I woke up, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. I just need to see him—even from a distance. Please, whoever you are, just one glance.”

She stared at me with narrowed eyes, until she finally sighed. “I’m Emma—Harry’s youngest sister. One look, alright?”

I nodded eagerly, fighting the temptation to hug her tight.

“You can’t go in, though,” she said and offered her arm. “My parents would flip shit if they saw you.” She wrapped an arm around my waist, lifting the weight from my ankle. “You’re not exactly their favorite person right now.”

Leaning on her, I almost chuckled. “That’s the understatement of the year,” I said. “Not that I blame them.”

With Emma’s help, I limped the remaining distance of the hall, looking through the glass on the door. I held my breath. Inside, I could see Harry lying on a bed, his head facing away from me. A group of people were standing around him—his friends and family probably—and I couldn’t see if he was awake or not.

“Will he recover?” I asked. “Apart from the hip, I mean.”

“The doctors’ have high hopes for a full recovery. Even the hip bone is a small risk, I just said that to be a bitch. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Even though the glass was slightly blurred to protect his privacy, it was abundantly clear: it was him on the other side. And he was alive.

Exhaling deeply, I almost sagged down to the floor.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Emma said, pulling me up. “Stay strong there. I can’t carry you.”

“It’s okay,” I muttered. “Thank you for letting me see him.”

As I muttered those words, his head turned and I could have sworn he looked straight at me. But there was no sign of joy or recognition, instead, he simply turned his head away, dismissing my presence.

It tore at my heartstrings, and I found it harder to breathe.

“No,” I muttered.

I hadn’t believed—I hadn’t wanted to believe it. But there it was, the proof.

Harry Styles didn’t care for me anymore.

“Look, lady,” Emma said, cringing. “I can’t hold you up alone.”

My legs went limp, and I just gave up. I couldn’t do this anymore. It was over. My knees buckled, and I landed on the floor.

“Help,” Emma screamed. She opened the door into Harry, and I could almost feel his presence—his light. All of which wasn’t mine to feel anymore.

My sight was blurred, and I couldn’t speak. Someone ran out and lifted me into their arms. Looking up, I recognized that face: Zayn.

Zayn was here. He was rescuing me, just like Harry used to. I felt weak, pathetic and small. I gasped for air, but it didn’t work. Why couldn’t I breathe?

I couldn’t move, and I barely heard a sound. Only this weird rush in front of my ears. It sounded like the wind coming through a mobile on speakerphone.

White lab coats walked in, and I felt myself being placed on a bed. A mask was placed over my head, and suddenly, air was pushed into my lungs.

My chest ached, but I didn’t know if it was because of whatever was happening, or because of Harry. I just kept replaying the scene where he turned away from me, and as I lay there, I thought of all my memories of Harry over the past month.

Every little incident where I’d made an ass out of myself. At the café, or when I fell on top on him from the tree. I recalled every smile, every kiss, every touch.

And I remembered every detail from tour abduction. Seeing him beat up, even in memory, caused my chest to ache again.

Finally, I saw him turn away from me again, and I swear, at that moment, I could literally feel my heart breaking into a thousand pieces.

After that,  there was just one thing on my mind:

I was dead to Harry Styles.

A/N: LAST CHAPTER! WOOT! Only the Epilogue left. What do you think? I need all the vents, rants, hopes, thoughts, etc. In the comments right now. :) 

The epilogue will be uploaded tomorrow, so now is the time to vote, spam and share the story. This may speed up the launch of "Play!" (I'm thinking that will happen on Friday) but until then, vote like crazy, tell your friends about this. etc. Don't worry, I'll update this story with a note to tell you guys when Play is officially up. 

Also, remember the twitter contest. All you have to do is to tweet either #CutFanfic or #PlayFanfic to get first look on teasers, and the Play Cover. + a chance to get your story critiqued/reviewed/shout-outed.

Anyway, give this a vote, maybe?