Social Suicide (Texting Harry Styles)

14

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 15 2018

I started hearing voices before I was able to open my eyes. I faded in and out, so I could only catch a few things here and there. Most of which was distorted and didn’t make any sense.

“She’s still stable. I’ll come back in a few hours.”

“You should go home. Get some rest, take a shower, eat something.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I should have protected her.”

“There was nothing you could’ve d—”

“I was standing right fucking there! If I wasn’t so angry, if I was focused on her instead of him, I could have pulled her out of the way!”

“Take a seat, breathe. She’ll be fine. You just need to relax.”

“She’s in here because of me! Don’t tell me to be bloody calm! It should’ve been me.”

“How is she?”

“The same.”

“Her BP is low.”

“Hang a unit, get a crash cart. And page Wilson!”

“I’m gonna kill him. I swear. I’m going to.”

“You’re not killing anyone, Har—”

“The hell I’m not!”

“He’s in jail. That’s how he gets to suffer.”

“Liam’s right. A quick death isn’t what he deserves.”

“This isn’t helping her. No one can help her. Her fate is in her own hands now.”

“I didn’t leave her when she was in her last two comas. I’m not leaving her now.”

“You can go now, Doctor.”

When I came around again, I felt something warm pressed against my hand.

“She just squeezed my hand!” Harry—I think?—yelled, a little too loudly.

“Noelle? Can you hear me?” I felt Molly’s small and always cold hands brush against my hair.

“Avery, I’m here. It’s Harry. Can you open your eyes for me? Elle?” His usually husky but heavenly voice was so gentle, the way someone talked to a pet or the way a parent talks to their newborn.

Not at all what I was used to. I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

I attempted to open my eyes, but they were so heavy. I thought I got a mumble out.

I squeezed his hand again.

I’m here, I tried to say.

“Noelle.” His hand reached up to cup my cheek. It was a struggle leaning to lean into him.

He let out a breath of relief and my eyes fluttered open.

Molly laughed through her tears and wrapped her arms around me.

“Easy, Mol.” I huffed and endeavored to clear my throat.

She let go immediately. “Sorry, sorry! Go get someone,” she told Liam.

“What...” I breathed. The words came out very slowly. It was annoying. My lungs felt like they had cement in them. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember what happened at the party?”

Party? Oh. “The Halloween party?”

“Harry and Matthew got into a fight. You tried to stop them,” Molly mewled sadly.