Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

65. Say Something

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I am completely numb, though feel myself being shaken, and hear the sound of my name being called from far away.

What do you want? Who are you?

Their voice is getting closer, and I feel warmth on my cheeks, and the feeling is coming back to my face and body.

Someone calls my name again.

They sound panicked. Why? Just let me sleep for a little while longer.

I try to ignore my surroundings, and I hear something about an ambulance.

"What the fuck did she take?"

More yelling.

I slowly open my eyes, and when I do, someone embraces me tightly.

"She's opened her eyes!"

Someone asks him if they still need the ambulance.

Ambulance?

"No ambulance," I moan. "No."

I look up, and Harry has my face in his hands, stroking my face for comfort.

"Ave, they just need to check to see you're okay. Did you take anything?"

I shake my head.

"Please, no," I start to cry, not even fully grasping the reason. My senses are overwhelmed, and I feel like I'm going to be sick again.

"I was feeling a bit light headed. It's probably because I haven't eaten much today." Half lie.

Michael has his phone up to his ear looking unsure of how to proceed, and cancels the ambulance when Harry gives him a nod of assurance.

I am a complete drunken mess, though I know I would have had the same physical response given if I were sober. I know why I fainted. It was a mixture of shock, and guilt. Deep, dark guilt, and I know things won't ever be the same.

"Are you okay to walk?" Harry asks me.

I nod.

"There are lots of fans downstairs," he explains calmly. "Are you going to be okay with all of that too?"

I think before nodding.

"Where are your things?" he asks, his voice patient, and caring.

I think back to where I left them last.

Luke's room.

"I'll get them," I quickly answer, standing up quite quickly.

He walks behind me, almost monitoring my wellbeing after the incident only moments earlier, and I turn to look back at him.

"Harry, I'm fine. I'm okay. Just please give me some air."

His facial features change immediately and I almost regret asking him for space.

I am a horrible person.

The only way I can justify my reasoning, is the nicer he is to me, the guiltier I feel. I need him to be angry at me. I need for him to feel something more than this. For him to treat me how I deserve to be treated.