fireproof {l.s}

chapter three

Louis

The doctor's words swirled around in my head. He paused before continuing, creating a horrible silence. After a few seconds, he went on, "He's alive, but that's about it. The cuts on his wrists combined with the gash on his neck led to some very serious medical issues. The gashes were deep and they cut through large arteries. He lost a lot of blood. I haven't got the whole story put together," he said, shooting a quick glance at me. "But, it seems like he fell, due to lack of blood to his legs, and smashed his head on the edge of the bathtub. He cracked it open, causing more blood loss. Then, he passed out."

I examined the doctor after he spoke. I could tell there was something he wasn't telling us. Something bad. I opened my mouth to question him, but Zayn beat me to it.

"There's something else, isn't there?"

"Well, he's still in surgery, but we haven't checked for brain or lung damage. We know he has asthma, which can sometimes cause complications. Mostly, we need to do an MRI to see if his fall caused damage to his brain," he explained. We were about to thank him and sit back down when he started talking again, "One more thing. We don't know if or when he will wake up,"

Friday, July 26th, 2013

2:09 a.m

Niall, Liam, Zayn, and I waited for about another 5 hours after hearing about Harry's state. I wanted to stay. I wanted to be there when he woke up. The boys had to drag me out the door.

They had ordered pizza and ate the whole thing. I couldn't eat. How was I supposed to eat?

Now, it was 2 a.m. I looked around Liam's living room at all my sleeping bandmates. I clutched my phone against my chest. I prayed that the screen would light up. I prayed that the hospital would call and tell me that Harry was awake. That he was alive and well.

But no one called.

I sighed lightly and rolled over onto my side. My thoughts were racing but I pushed them away. I needed to sleep.

About an hour later, I finally felt my eyelids grow heavy, my mind settle, and my body relax.

7:00 a.m.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Niall's alarm woke up all of us, and probably every flat within two miles.

"God Niall, shut that off," Zayn groaned, still half asleep. The alarm stopped abruptly. After we all had our fair share of yawns and groans, I made my way to the kitchen. Liam's flat was cold and breezy. My half naked body instantly filled with goosebumps. A few moments later, Niall joined me.

"How ya holding up, Lou?" he asked with a soft smile.

I shrugged, "I wanna see Harry."

I hate not knowing. I hate the feeling of worry and confusion. But mostly, I hate the guilt.

Harry is in the hospital. He's been unconscious for almost 24 hours. He's broken, physically and emotionally. And it's my fault.

Something was wrong, but I had no idea what. You don't get black-out drunk and cut yourself just because your best mate yelled at you. Harry was hurting and I don't know why. I don't know how to help. All I want is to be able to hug all his pain away. His pain that I didn't even know existed until yesterday. I love him. I love him with every ounce of love that I'm capable of giving. I love his beautiful, green eyes. I love the way his curls are the tightest behind his ears. I love everything about Harry. And that's why it hurts my heart that he is in so much pain. It hurts that he thinks he's alone. It hurts that he doesn't know that someone would jump in front of a train just to take his pain away. That I would die for him.