redemption: harry styles

Chapter Sixty Eight

"And who might that be?" Zayn asked, frustrated.

I paused. I forgot the kid's name. "We'll be there soon. Bye, Zayn."

"Evelyn, no," he said sternly. "Don't go with anyone else."

"He's Harry's friend, come on!" I said.

I heard another familiar voice in the background, and Zayn argued with it for a while.

"Who's there?" he asked rudely.

"HisnamestartswithanA," I grumbled and cleared my throat.

"What?" I heard Zayn say faintly, asking one of the boys; Harry hopefully. "Evelyn, I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said deliberately.

"Zayn, nooo-" He hung up.

I groaned and dragged myself towards "Ashton"--now I remember. He was leaning against the lobby wall, tapping his nails on a wall in harmony. The tune actually sounded familiar.

"Hey," I said awkwardly, "um, you can go ahead. I'm staying for a while more."

"You don't want to see him?" he asked sadly.

"No, I mean, yes....someone else is already coming to take me there." I gestured to nothing in particular uselessly.

He paused, a slight smile on his lips, his jaw clenched. "You sure?" he asked and I nodded and pressed my lips together. He pursed his own lips and pushed himself off of the wall. "Okay. Well, can I have your number? In case you need anything, of course." I stared at him and slowly nodded, noting how this reminded me of last night when Zayn asked for my number.

"Okay, one sec," I told him and left to retrieve my phone. I came back and handed my phone to him. After a minute of adding himself as a contact on my phone and my number into his, he handed the phone back.

"Call if you need anything," he said quietly and smiled at me.

I smiled back and slowly closed the door as he left.

I sighed and went into the kitchen to make something to eat. I opened the pantry and stared at the small variety of food. Finally, I grabbed two slices of bread and slipped them into the toaster.

I sat on a stool behind the counter and rested my chin on my palm.

Harry was in a hospital and nobody fucking told me. And he got stabbed.

I placed one toast on a plate and held the other in my hand. My stomach tight as I stared at it, and I frowned. I didn't feel hungry, in fact I felt like throwing up.

I groaned and dropped the toast on the bench and walked tiredly into the bathroom. I sat on the cold tiles by the toilet and leaned my head against the wall, hugging my stomach. I felt hot and everything was faintly blurred. I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes until the feeling vanished. By the time it did, I heard my phone ring again.

I managed to be quick to answer it yet careful I felt the sensation of dizziness again.

As soon as I answered, I heard Zayn's voice. "Evelyn."

"Yeah?" I replied.

"I'm downstairs and the lady isn't letting me up."

"I'll come down, can you just wait two minutes?" I said.

He paused, and sighed. "Quickly, though."

I hung up and wore denim shorts, the only shorts beside the bathing shorts and the ones I use for pajamas, and had to use one of Harry's tees. I quickly tied my shoes and left the room with the hotel keycard in my hand.

Zayn was waiting by the entrance doors, holding a phone to his ear. He nodded at me when he saw me and put his hand to my back to hurry me on.

"I just picked her up," he was saying, "tell him to hold on." And he hung up.

"Something wrong?" I asked as we quickly walked towards his car. It must have been a rental, or maybe they had a car in every city.

"He's doing okay from the wound," he told me, opening the car door for me, "but a little sick without you." I stared straight ahead, not knowing what to say. It's not like it was "cute" that he was probably also feeling like throwing up because I wasn't there. "Do you get that?"

"What?" I said.

"Like, feel sick and shit because he's not there," Zayn said, speeding out of the parking lot.

"Yeah," I said, not mentioning this morning's wave of tiredness. "So where's the hospital?"

Zayn shrugged and pressed a button on a screen to turn on the GPS.

"Do me a favor and write this here," he said and handed me a piece of paper with an address on it.

I typed the address in and sat back in my seat, only then putting the seatbelt on. "You're going pretty fast," I said uncertainly.

He didn't answer. The car's speed increased.

"Do you know how he was attacked?" I asked, and his knuckles tightened against the steering wheel. He looked at the rearview mirror and back at the road.

"No," he said through gritted teeth.

He didn't look happy and I didn't know where I suddenly found the confidence to push an already frustrated boy, but I said: "You're lying."

"I don't know," he grumbled. "Fuck, I don't know."

He abruptly slammed his foot on the brakes and I was pulled back by the seatbelt. I gasped and fell back into my seat, placing my hand on the area where the seatbelt burned my skin.

"What the hell-" I stopped and looked at the broken building in front of us. "Zayn, this isn't a hospital."

"I know."

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