Kiwi // H.S. // A.U.

Chapter Sixty

EMMA

I stormed into the hospital like a mad woman.

Nothing could stop the hideous thoughts running around through my head. All I knew was Harry was in the hospital. My Harry was hurt enough to be here. I had completely freaked out at the station, demanding for Spencer or Miller or anyone to drive me to the hospital right at that instant.

He kept trying to talk to me in the car, but all I heard was head injury and CT scan. It all just sent me further down the drain, my panic levels rising. I was trying to keep my breathing steady, but it wasn't working.

DI Spencer led me to the elevators and rode up with me, trying to talk me down. There was no calming me, though, not until I spoke to Harry myself. Not until I could see his green eyes and smile, and hear him say that he loves me.

We walked briskly through the halls, Spencer on his phone talking. My head was whipping back and forth, peering into the rooms we passed as if he would be in one of the beds, awake and waiting for me.

We turned one last corner, a doctor standing with her back to us on the phone. She turns around, spotting us and hangs up. Her eyes are set on the detective next to me, as she says, "Alec, he's just over here."

"Okay, Emma," Spencer looked down at me, "we're pretty sure this is Harry, but we need an identification-"

"What? Why?" My thoughts immediately go to his face being unrecognizable.

"He didn't come in with an ID. That's why it took us so long to find him. We called around to all the stations and hospitals for someone matching his description. Miranda," he glances at the doctor, "thinks Harry's in there. The tattoos match."

I take a deep breath, "Okay, okay, let's go."

I let them walk in first, suddenly feeling hesitant. I didn't want to see him like this, but I needed to see him at the same time. I knew the guilt would come crashing down on me if I saw him beaten and bloodied, this whole thing being my fault. I should've had Harry come with me to the police station this morning. I shouldn't have let him leave my sight after I got those texts this morning. He had been so vigilant all week to keep me safe, yet I had pushed him to go to work, to be away from me.

I looked up from the floor to see him lying in a hospital bed. My fears left me, rushing to his side. As my hand gently encases his, I look over him. He had a cast on his left arm and his head was bandaged up, but other than that he looked fine. There was no bruises or scratches on him, almost like Jake hadn't gotten a good hit in.

"What's wrong with him?" I ask, not taking my eyes off his peaceful looking face.

"Came into the emergency room a few hours ago with a head wound and broken hand." She answers immediately, typing on her iPad, "We took him for scans, and luckily we don't see a hematoma, no hemorrhaging, or skull fractures, but when he came to he was very... loopy." I could tell she used that word for my benefit, trying to make it seem less severe. "Basically, he has a really bad concussion, so we placed him in a medically induced coma-"

"What?! For how long?" One of my hands flung up to my heart, fisting at my jumper. My heart was beating rapidly while I tried to keep my breathing even, so I wouldn't completely lose it.

"Just for the night. Twelve hours to be exact." She assures me calmly, "We wanted to give him enough time to heal himself, so we'll take him off it at six in the morning, and then we'll wait for him to wake up on his own."

I swallow down my fear, "But he'll wake up, right?"

"That's up to him. Sometimes it takes patients an hour to wake, but I've also seen it take nearly forty-eight hours." She tells me.