Bucket List - [ H . S ]

Chapter Eleven

Tw: mention of blood.

Quinn Parker

"What's the worst that could happen?"

I gasped loudly, shooting out of bed almost immediately whilst trying to grasp the air my lungs desperately needed. I lifted both of my hands and wrapped them around my neck, needing to take a few seconds to try and control my breathing. My heart was racing in my chest, my body breaking out in a complete sweat from the nightmare I had woken up from.

I lifted a hand up to touch my forehead, closing my eyes for a brief moment to steady myself. Most of my mornings started off like this so having to steady my dizzy self was not new to me at all. I opened my eyes and looked at the bed I was just in, furrowing my brows in confusion.

"What...where am I..." I mumbled, looking around the room that I was in. I quickly came to the realisation that I was in a hotel room, given that the windows were massive and the bed was lined with expensive sheets that looked like silk.

I looked down at my clothes and saw I was still in my baby yellow shirt and blue dungarees, my white converse lay messily on the floor beside the bed.  I groaned quietly, my head was pounding with a splitting headache like I had been hit by a bus. I needed aspirin, pronto.

I stumbled slightly towards the door and stopped dead in my tracks when I caught my reflection in the long mirror just next to the door. My mouth fell open in shock when I saw how messy my hair was, bits of it stained red. "What the fuck..." I mumbled, moving my hair away from my face. I widened my eyes at the sight of the small white bandage taped to my forehead. Lifting my hand, I touched the bandage gently, peeling it back to see what had happened. I hissed in pain, catching a glimpse of what seemed like stitches under the bandage.

When did this happen?

How long had I been out for?

How did I sleep through getting stitches?

I blinked in confusion, taking a step away from the mirror to look at my entire reflection. There was spots of blood on my yellow shirt, the bun I put my hair in yesterday was slanted to the left slightly with messy blood stained fly aways everywhere. I needed to try and remember what I did last, remember what happened and how the hell I ended up here.

"The last thing I could remember was the rehearsal..."

"...then I walked out and spoke to Zayn..."

"...I was walking back to the hotel when..."

My eyes widened when I remembered what had happened to me. I saw Charlotte, her reflection in the car window. She was standing right there with me.

I gasped a little, did I pass out in the middle of the street?

If I did...how did I get here?

Reaching into my pocket for my phone, I panicked when I felt it wasn't there. "Fuck..." I began to worry that I dropped it in the street. Did I drop it? Shit shit shit. I walked towards the bedroom and stopped when I saw my phone was sitting beside my bed, plugged in. My work phone laid just beside it with my headphones messily on top of them both. "Someone...plugged it in?" I asked in confusion.