Broken

2.

The weeks following my wake fly by. I drift in and out of consciousness constantly, unable to differentiate one day from another. My voice is still weak and unrecognisable and my body too heavy to move. For how long is this going to be my life now?

Whenever I wake there is somebody new by my bedside. Sometimes it's my mum, sometimes my dad, sometimes Greg. I haven't seen any of the boys since the day I woke up. It makes me wonder whether it actually was Harry with me that day or was I imagining things in my drug filled haze. It makes me wonder whether they actually care.

My mum talks a lot to me. She says that she's trying to catch me up on everything I've missed since I've been asleep, not that I hear much of it before I fall asleep again. I've missed a lot. I was in a coma for over 2 years, apparently it's a miracle that I'm still alive. I don't feel like a miracle though.

My mum, I notice, never talks about one direction. She speaks about Theo, about politics, about her favourite new shows on TV, but she avoids the subject of music. Any questions I would want to ask I can't, I can just about whimper. Besides, I wouldn't know where to begin.

Greg talks to me too, I notice that he speaks to me the way he used to speak to Theo. Like he's encouraging me to say my first word. Unlike Theo, no amount of encouragement is going to help me. Time and rest is what the doctors say, I'm not sure I believe them.

"It's a gradual process"
"You can't rush your body"
"You just need to give yourself time"

They repeat these same phrases over and over. Are thy really true, or am I just too weak to be told the truth?

My dad doesn't talk much. He just sits with me and stares. At me, at the floor, at the ceiling, he's always staring. Maybe he doesn't know what to say to me, maybe he just doesn't want to say anything.

Their life these past 2 years must have been a living hell, not knowing whether I was ever going to wake up or not. If I'd died they could have at least grieved. By staying alive I've caused them fresh heartbreak each day. Waking up hasn't stopped that. They don't know if I'll ever talk again, ever move again. I could be bed bound the rest of my life. Stuck in a wheelchair, unable to talk or feed myself.

The truth is the doctors can't see into the future and right now they have no clue. I'm a complete mystery to them.

When I wake up this morning I notice that I have no visitors, obviously the reality of seeing their broken son every day has become too much for them.

"Good morning Niall" the nurse beams when she notices I'm awake. She's always far too happy. Smiling, laughing, talking to me as if I'm a little kid that's only bumped his head. Maybe I'm judging her too harshly, maybe it's her way of coping with seeing people hurt and dying.

I don't reply. I can't reply

"Ive heard you have some special visitors coming today" she says to me as she checks my vitals. Special visitors. Who on earth is special and visiting me.

There's a quiet knock on the door. I would say come in but nobody would hear me. The nurse says it for me. I see a curl and know exactly who it is. Maybe they've finally come to say me. To finally explain why my mum is so distant when it comes to them.

I don't even see them walk into the room before my head is filled with pain and I lose consciousness. Before I do I hear myself scream in agony. My voice is horse and raw. It's the first time Ive really heard it and it sounds broken. I'm broken