invasato [h.s]

67

in loving memory....

//

Elaina Basset

It's been 8 hours.

8 hours of stress, fear, and heartache.

Everyone was on a jet to Manchester as soon as that phone call with Carter ended. We were in contact with Vincent, who was not only sending out people to help, but also flying to Manchester himself.

It was the most desperate rescue mission.

I was fully ready to get there and do anything to spare his life.

The team that Vincent sent out got to where Harry and Niall were just moments before us. We arrived as they found them.

I don't think I'll ever be able to erase the scene from my head.

It was the first time I've seen Harry's childhood home, and he was being taken out of it, unconscious and in critical condition with Niall right behind him. I didn't even know if he was breathing in the moment, not until I ran up to him and saw his chest moving ever so slowly.

There was no choice but to bring him to a hospital. He was dying.

It's engraved into my brain—his blood drying all over his skin, his eyes closed, his head in my lap in the backseat of a car with Angela and Niall as I prayed to anything I could think of, Angela's face when she realized how bad this was.

I stroked his hair. Angela held his hand. Niall wouldn't take his eyes off of him to make sure he didn't stop breathing.

The hours that followed were excruciating.

By the time we got to the hospital, Harry was breathing so shallowly that he was barely breathing at all. He had lost so much blood that he went into hemorrhagic shock, that's what the doctors said. His body was shutting down.

If we had gotten to the hospital any later, it would've been too late.

We spent hours in the waiting room, not hearing anything for what felt like an eternity.

It was silent between the whole group, everyone just sitting there and anticipating.

Angela had her head in my lap as we sat on the chairs. We were comforting each other. She didn't have to say anything for me to know how scared she was.

Even Bianca wasn't herself. Her usual witty and wild persona wasn't present tonight.

If Harry could realize how loved he is by these people, I wonder what he would think. Maybe he already knows it.

Everyone saw the way I was when I found out about Harry. I was the one who got the phone call, I was the one who ran and broke down in front of his body. I know our cover is probably blown, but is there any point in pretending anymore? When death was peering it's ugly head around the corner?