*Julianne's P.O.V.*
It has been almost a month since the accident, and from what I know, Harry still doesn't remember much.
According to him, he has had flashbacks of mobs of people chanting his name, along with the names of the rest of the boys, but that is the farthest that the memories go.
He asks me to re-tell some of his memories with him, to see if he can remember, but sometimes he gives up on himself. Sometimes he wakes up angry. Angry at himself. Angry at the world for him not being able to remember anything. For me, and for everyone around him, it's terrifying to see him that way. His shouting wakes me up from the brief slumbers that I have, and once I am up, he demands to know why he can't remember me.
I never have an answer, other than, "It is not up to anyone to decide when you will remember."
His anger doesn't push me away though, although sometimes he wakes up not remembering my name. Somehow, I find the motivation to keep going. I simply look down at my promise ring, and remember his words on that Christmas Eve. Several day ago, I made a promise to myself. I promised myself to never give up, because he is what makes me happy. I know that I won't give up on him, but I also know that people can get tired. I can get tired.
My family had to go back to the states a couple of weeks ago, my parents for work, and my sister for school. Robin and Gemma left, for the same reasons, although they visit frequently. Danielle had to go back to North America for her job. Eleanor is back in school. Perrie is on tour. The boys and Eleanor, they visit almost every day, but during the day, they are at the studio working. Zayn has been released from the hospital already. Last week actually, and although he is still a little bit beat up, he is up and running. Not literally running though.
Anne and I have been the only ones who are here with him during the day, but he remembers Anne, he doesn't remember me.
I feel so much weight on my shoulders. I haven't been eating properly, I am sure I lost at least 10 pounds in the last month. I have barely slept. Anne insists on staying the night so that I could rest, but there is nothing that can take me away from Harry's side, so I stay, and she goes to mine and Harry's flat to sleep. The sleeping couch in the bedroom isn't that uncomfortable, although sometimes I sleep more comfortable on the chair near the bed. On few days, the days when Harry was heavily medicated for the pain, I snuck into the bed where Harry was. I knew he wouldn't wake up, because he was so deeply sedated, so I snuggled up close to him on those nights. On those nights, I slept better.
Anne has brought me clothes from home, and I have taken showers in the bathroom that was offered to Harry.
Anne says that my face is paler lately, but I am sure she just needs some more rest. She occasionally points out the bags under my eyes, but I brush the topic off quickly, not wanting to take attention away from the well caring of Harry.
Sometimes, when he is happy, Harry begs for me to go home to sleep, but I don't move.
I catch myself dazing off into daydreams, but am always quickly brought back by a shout from Harry, a doctor coming in, or from Harry remembering something.
I doze off so much that sometimes I just stare at Anne as she talks, but I can't hear a word that she says.
I'm fine though. I'm fine as long as Harry is breathing.
The door creaks open and the doctor walks in.
"You're ready to be released, Mr. Styles." Mr. Shouls says as he smiles. He has been quite helpful to both Harry and I. He is another that says that I need rest, but, I just don't pay mind to those comments any longer.
"Are you ready, Harry?" Anne comes out from the bathroom and asks Harry
"Yes, mum." He responds. He aims his attention towards me and smiles.
"Ready?" He asks me.
I am too weak to even speak. I simply smile, and nod.
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