Dark Song (Mature HS)

9

He got drunk. Harry got so drunk the day after I left. I got a call from my dad telling me he didn't show up to finalize the album and the two of us went to his house. When we got there, glass was on the floor, an indication smashing dishes occurred.

We found him lying in his room, his mouth open and reminisce of vomit on the sides. I was horrified to say the least.

"Harry!" my father yells, shaking him. His eyes barely open, my heart clenching in fear.

"Dad, go call an ambulance," I say, moving my hand through Harry's hair after I assure my father I'll take care of him.

"L-Len," Harry barely gets out, my hand grabbing his cold one.

"Why did you do this?" I barely say, holding back tears. I see two bottles of whiskey beside him. One empty and one with a quarter of amber liquid left.

His fingers wrap tightly around my hand, unable to say anything. My lips press to his forehead before my father walks back into the room with medics. They lift Harry up, my hand tugged in Harry's.

"Let go," I say, his head shaking.

"Just go with it. Ride with him," my dad says, my head nodding.

Harry throws up as soon as we're in the ambulance. His hair gets in the way and the medics pull it back, my hand only taking hold of his while they take care of him.

"Don't touch her," he spits at one of the medics as one sets his hand on my shoulder to reach something better.

"Harry, stop," I say, his eyebrows frowning.

He stops when they lay him back, pushing something into his arm. That's when he starts to get loopy. They start to flush out his system and it causes him to throw up repeatedly, my eyes unable to watch much more.

I sit in the waiting room with my father, his hand on his forehead.

"This boy is going to be the death of me," he says, my eyes watching him closely.

"He's back to square one. This is just how he was when I found him."

I frown, my stomach dropping. "I guess this is who he is."

"I need him sober. I refuse to let this keep happening. I'm his manager. He needs to work with me."

I only nod, going on my phone. I don't know what to do so I scroll through random things, my heart deflating while the boy I've been seeing behind my father's back currently gets the alcohol out of his body.

"Davenport," the doctor calls, my dad getting up. They talk and I get up, walking to his room. I see him sitting up, a nurse forcing him to eat something. I walk in and ignore him, sitting on the couch as my father walks in behind me.

"No more alcohol," is the first thing my dad says, Harry yelling immediately in resistance.

"Fuck that! I'm in charge of myself," he says, my lips releasing a sigh.

"If you don't listen to me, you'd have just made your last album," my dad says, my eyes looking up.

Harry doesn't say anything, just stays silent. "That's what I thought," my dad retaliates, my phone ringing. I go and answer the call outside and I finish talking with one of our producers, my dad walking out of the room.

"Would you like a ride home?" he asks, my head shaking. He kisses my hair and I walk back into Harry's room, my jaw clenched.

"Talk to me. Don't lie," he states, knowing just how mad I am.

"How could you?!" I yell, trying to hold back the tears but I fail miserably.

"I did what I fucking wanted to!" he yells, my hands throwing my jacket at the chair.