lovestruck † hs

Chapter 68

Harry's POV

Six days.

Six days, thirteen hours, and forty five minutes since Rachel was last conscious.

On the first day, I made it to the hospital after following the raging ambulance. The first day was the most crazy and hectic. When I got out of the car, the paramedics were tense, doing compressions on her as they wheeled her in with speed and I stood in the emergency area in disbelief before other doctors ushered me in to the waiting room with instructions to stay calm, call anyone for her that I know, and to please inform them that she is quickly being wheeled into surgery to remove her bullets and check for internal bleeding.

Immediately I called Hayley and Jennifer, the girls crying in a panic as they said they'd come as fast as they could with a bag of some clothes and things for Rachel and I. The doctors said they'd have updates, and no one had come to me yet with anything as people had been staring at me while I paced the waiting room.

One of my first concerns was that the media did not make this the top headline, and after waiting on word from the chief of the hospital, I was relieved on getting news that all cameras have been prohibited from the premises, but not as relieved as I would've been to know if Rachel was doing okay.

When Rachel's cousins arrived they were both still crying, both of their eyes wide as they spotted me.

"Your shirt.." Jennifer mumbled pointing weakly. I looked down, noticing that blood covered the front of my shirt. Rachel's.

I wish it had been mine instead.

"And your face, Harry you should at least get your injuries checked out," Hayley remarked, her words echoing the nurses that came up to me periodically in the last hour. She stepped up to me and observed the cuts on my face and I stepped back when I saw a doctor wearing scrubs exit the door I wasn't allowed to enter.

"Mr. Styles?" He called out, looking around as I rushed with the girls to him.

"We've stabilized her, and one of the two bullets have been removed since I left to tell you. The internal bleeding is the next part to handle. Her body has gone under a lot of stress, she has a head trauma that doesn't look too severe that we're stitching, and there shouldn't be a scar visible from it, but we've noticed she has several broken ribs—" we all jumped from the sound of his pager go off.

"Oh.. oh I must return to surgery there's an emergency," he excused himself before running back in.

I remember my eyes tearing up, and my sight growing fuzzy as my breathing hitched before I blacked out for a while. The next thing I knew I was lying in a small, single emergency room on a bed, sweaty, with my hands wrapped in gauze and Jennifer's cousins next to me.

They informed me that I had passed out for a while, that the nurses gave me stitches on the cuts on my face, and that it's been around half an hour. I immediately sprang up from the bed, distorted, and began to mumble for Rachel as the girl's pushed me back to the hospital bed and told me to relax, that I had passed out from having a panic attack.

With minimal updates and another hour or so later, Rachel was put into a private room and the three of us sat there watching her. Her face was pale and seemingly lifeless, as it remained the next five days. We were told that they would monitor her over night closely and not to
expect her to wake up any time soon because of the stress on her body, and especially how much she had coded.