redemption: harry styles

Chapter Fifty Four

I blinked slowly, finding my body in pins and needles, and rolled my eyes to the side. A body still as stone lay a few feet away. Dark hair fell over the face, skin pale as the sheets, eyes closed.

I closed my eyes as Perrie smirked at me. "Don't worry," she murmured, "he's fine. It was just a few aches here and pain there. You, however; the wound in your hip is like an inch deep." I sighed softly and tried to lick my lips. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," I barely muttered.

She shrugged and picked at the remainders of black nail polish on her nails. "Can't expect me to be nice. Buuuut..." She turned her gaze to the side. My body felt stiff but I pushed myself to turn my head to the side where a single white rose lay on the table. "I cut it from someone's yard." She smiled.

I managed to laugh in my chest. "Thanks," I repeated and looked around the room. "Where are we?"

"Are we at a hospital?" I stammered.

"No. Well, kinda." She giggled. "Just where we go when one of us gets hurt. We obviously can't go to a hospital or anything."

It literally just looked like a regular house's room, but the features were hospital-like; white walls, white beds, stretchers, cabinets, a small fridge that probably had ice-packs or something.

"I don't want to play Doctor," Marcus appeared from the doorway, "but how are you feeling?"

"Good, just...dizzy. And everything is blurry," I uttered and Marcus pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.

"Aren't you a doctor, anyway?" Perrie frowned at Marcus, and he sighed.

"No way, becoming a doctor would take years," he snorted. "I'm just capable of healing and acting like a doctor better than the others."

Perrie smirked at him. "Sure."

"You fell asleep about three hours ago," Marcus said, "in case you wanted to know. Oh, and try not to move a lot. I stitched your wound."

"It was that bad?" I frowned at Perrie's sad expression. "We're talking about a cut."

"Then it was from a very, very sharp knife." He gave Harry a quick check. "Any closer and your guts would've spilled out."

"He's kidding, it wasn't that bad," Perrie laughed at my horrified expression. "Just bad enough for two or three stitches."

"More like six," Marcus muttered as he opened a drawer.

I stared at Harry as his bare chest rose and fell softly and his eyelids twitched.

"I'm still tired," I whispered.

"Rest a little more," Perrie insisted without looking at me. "It's still curfew anyway."

-

The next morning, when I woke up, I was actually in another place.

The walls' paint was dry and peeling, the bed I was in had only one pillow and a thin blanket over my shoulders. I sat up, noting that I wore a shirt that wasn't mine. The room, I realized, was the same size as mine, and the wardrobe was also in the same spot. It even had a balcony where mine was.

I frowned and pushed myself to sit up. I winced as pain shot through my side and peeled the shirt back, revealing a wide cut stitched together. I bit my lip and swung my legs around the side of the small bed. I slipped out of the covers and steadily walked toward the balcony doors, the room spitting black spots at me for a small moment.

I gripped the handle in both hands and tugged but it didn't budge. The lock was clicked open before I tried again. The sliding door screeched open, rusty and earsplitting, with all of my strength just enough for me to squeeze through. Oddly, the air outside was damp and hot. It smelled of plants' oils and dirt, and I immediately knew it rained, even though we were still in summer--but it was ending pretty soon.