Assault With a Deadly Weapon || N.H / 1D

79.

I sat completely still in the chair closest to the large window overlooking the city. My knees were pulled up into my chest. Malik had brought me a pair of NYPD sweatpants and a t-shirt, but my hair was still styled, and I hadn't had the opportunity to wash off my smudged makeup, mainly because I couldn't move from that one spot at the window. I tried my best to ignore the pitiful looks I earned from passing nurses and receptionists, but I couldn't help but notice.

I watched the bright headlights of cars passing down the street, getting used to the pattern, the simplicity, hoping it would lull me to sleep. Then, there was a tap on my shoulder. I turned my head to see a doctor towering over me.

"Hello miss," He crouched so that he was almost at my height. I felt like a scared child. "Are you related to Niall Horan?"

"I'm-" My voice came out croaky and weak. "I'm his girlfriend. Why?"

I was convinced he was going to ask me if I knew where Niall's will was. They were going to ask me about funeral plans. I knew it.

"I came to update you on his condition." The doctor spoke softly. "The bullet passed through the brachial plexus. That's a nerve bundle in his shoulder that controls the function of his left arm."

"Is that bad? Will he be okay?" My eyes darted around the room.

"We're sending him into emergency surgery immediately. We're hoping to repair some of the damage done to the blood vessels and nerves, but nothing is promised. I cannot assure you that he will be perfectly fine. I'm sorry."

"Oh." My chest felt heavy. "But there's a chance that he could be perfectly fine?"

"There's a chance, but again I cannot guarantee anything." The doctor shook his head. "I will update you as soon as we finish surgery."

"Thank you Doctor." I nodded, dropping my eyes to the floor.

I've always said it's best to be pessimistic. Prepare for the worst so that the worst doesn't seem so bad. But today, I couldn't even fathom what the worst would feel like when it actually arrived, so I could only be an optimist. For the first time in my life, I got my hopes up. I trusted the doctors, I knew how strong Niall was, and I knew that I wouldn't survive without him.

I prayed to the universe. I prayed for so long that eventually my eyes closed, and my head leaned against the window. I drifted off to sleep.

"Ophelia."

"Opheeeliaaaa..."

"Philly!"

"Huh?" My eyes snapped open as someone shook my shoulder. I looked beside me and realised that the figure was my father. "Dad?" I frowned. "What time is it?"

"Five." He responded, keeping his hand on my shoulder.

"In the morning?"

"Yes." He nodded. "I brought you a coffee." He handed me an iced cup full of black coffee.

"How did you know my order?" I took the cup from him.

"Horan mentioned it a while ago, when he didn't know who I was." He sounded nervous to mention Niall's name around me. "But black coffee hey? Scared of a little sweetness?"

"Sugar won't wake me up like strong coffee will." I pursed my lips. "But thank you."

"You're welcome." He turned his head to look straight in front of him, dragging out the silence. Then, he sighed. "How are you doing kid? For real."

I looked at him, his eyes met mine, then mine started to water.

"I'm scared Dad." I sniffled, feeling like my throat was coated with thick sadness. "I'm scared that he's going to die."