The Guardian

Chapter Twenty Seven

A/N: I don't really know why Chapter 9 is showing up twice after Chapter 26 so I'm sorry about that... I guess just ignore it! Enjoy:)

Ali's POV

My emotions were identical to the room that surrounded me.

The plain, white walls, the bland, gray chairs, and the cool air drifting in through the crack under the door: the hospital waiting room.

I was cold and emotionless. My hands felt like ice against my skin, my expression was blank, and I'm pretty sure all the color was washed out of my face.

On the outside, I appeared frozen. Lifeless, even. But take a look inside my brain and one would think my body was on fire.

My mind was racing. Words spoken only hours ago echoed through my thoughts, and flashbacks of the fight replayed continuously in my brain. I analyzed Niall's actions, Brian's actions and my own, trying to make sense of it all. My thoughts were a jumbled mess of replays and dialogue and complicated theories that my overactive mind concocted in a panic.

I'd bet money that no neuroscientist could figure me out. I was going insane.

It wasn't until a nurse stepped infront of me that the subconcious frenzy going on inside my head subsided.

"Miss," she said, getting my attention. "You can go inside now."

I wasn't exactly sure which boy she was taking me to see, but either way my heart was nearly pounding out of my chest.

Something about hospitals always freaked me out. I don't know if it was the bland colors that screamed 'gloom,' the smell of latex gloves and disinfectant, or the number of sick patients kept up behind each and every door.

I followed her down the narrow hallway, and then into a room numbered 216.

Inside, a tan, brown-haired boy lay peacefully asleep in one of those uncomfortable-looking mechanical beds.

I swallowed hard, knowing that as peaceful as he looked, Brian was in a lot of pain. He looked much better than he did when we first got to the hospital, though. The blood was cleaned off his face and arms, and his shirt was off, revealing the cuts on his arms from the flying shards of glass from the broken bottles. Bruises were already forming around his cheekbone and eye, and I couldn't help but wince.

"Is he concious?" I asked the nurse, my words coming out much shakier and softer than I had intended.

She simply shook her head no.

I felt the lump in my throat grow and tears start to sting in my eyes. Don't cry, I kept telling myself. I hate Brian, I do. And a part of me want to believe that he deserves this. But I know deep down that he doesn't deserve to be laying here, unconcious, looking like someone tried to kill him.

He had a guilty concious. Where everytime you see the person, your stomach is in knots and you get a little dizzy, wanting to so terribly apologize yet knowing you need to stay away? It's quite unpleasant. I know he wanted to apologize, I could see it in his eyes.

Eyes don't lie.

But, Niall immediately assumed the worst and jumped right in. I know he was only trying to protect me, and I am thankful for that, but I can't help but feel that Brian is laying here, lifeless, all because of me.

And I know I shouldn't care, considering he was the reason I attempted suicide. But I do.

Cautiously, I walked over to his bedside and looked at his injuries closer up. He was beaten up pretty bad, and I shivered at Niall's drunken strength. It was startling to see the damage he could do. Immediately, I began to fear for my own life, wondering if one day Niall would do the same to me.