Dice [h.s.]

51

"Don't deny your fire, my dear, just be who you are and burn." -Mark Anthony

-

I hate hospitals. The smell of cleaning products and sick patients leaked off the walls like fresh paint. The sight of running nurses and doctors as their patients coded in their beds. It was the worst place in the world.

I just woke up from my five hour or so sleep and was impatiently waiting at a vending machine. I watched as the vending machine ate my dollar as slowly as it could. I then pressed in the number I wanted and waited.

I waited a few seconds, but nothing came out. I pressed the numbers in again, again nothing came out. Out of sleep deprivation and tiredness, I kicked the vending machine. Rapidly, my water fell to the opening and bounced out and onto the floor.

"Fucking vending machine." I whispered under my breath as I grabbed the water with my good hand and headed back to Harry's room.

When I entered the room, Harry was still passed out. He's been asleep since the surgery. The doctor said that it was normal, that he suffered so much trauma that his body was resting. I couldn't help but still be nervous.

I shut the door quietly behind me and made my way back to my seat. I sat down in the chair and took Harry's hand just like before. I used my teeth to open the water bottle and spit the top onto the bed. I then used my lips and brace to raise it into my mouth.

I took a long sip before placing it down on his bedside table and briefly letting go of his hand to screw the cap back on. When I grasped his hand again, I held it tighter than before.

I woke up briefly for an hour or so so the doctor could tell me why he was still asleep. I think they still thought I was his wife and everything because I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of acting like it.

I don't really care though. I refuse to leave him here, alone. Especially since no one can visit him right now. Plus, I'm kind of stuck here. The target on my back intensified by at least ten thousand.

I was still wearing my dress from last night and my leather jacket was on the back of the chair. My heels were still tight on my feet. I smelled like spilled champagne and anxiety. Nothing bad, just eye opening.

I knew I looked terrible too. When I went pee earlier, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My makeup was completely fucked up as mascara bunched under my eye due to all my crying. My hair was tied back into a messy bun with baby hairs coming out the sides.

But still, I didn't care. All I cared about was Harry right now. Also the safety and well being of the team. I don't know what happened to them, but I really hope no one's hurt.

I laid my braced hand across my stomach, really feeling the pain today. Harry's going to freak when he finds out he did this to me. But honestly, I would break my hand over and over again if it meant he suffered just a fraction less of his pain.

"Come on H, you've got to wake up. We have a lot of catching up to do." I chuckled while whispering between us.

I threw my head back against the top of the chair and stared at the heart monitor. I watched as his heart beat at a steady speed, unlike when he flatlined in the ambulance. I liked hearing it beat. It told me he was still alive.

I heard the sound of a door knob then the door opening. I sat up and turned towards the door, alert. I slouched back in the chair when it was just the doctor coming in.

"Is he still asleep?" Dr. Michaels, Harry's doctor, questioned as he made his way to Harry's side.

"Yep." I frowned.