You're My Only Direction

Chapter Twenty-Six

             Louis’ POV

            I woke up the next morning refreshed and excited for the day ahead of me; I had gotten the best sleep in months. I rolled on my side to see my nurse staring at me.

            “Oh, hi Lacey, what’s up?” I asked, startled by her presence.

            “Nothing, I came in a few minutes ago to check on you, but you were still asleep. You looked so peaceful, which is unusual for you, so I just let you continue sleeping. I knew that you could use the rest,” she replied, handing me a tray full of toast, eggs, and bacon.

            “Thanks,” I said, accepting the tray. I guzzled down the food, knowing that the sooner it was gone the sooner I could visit Harry.

            “Slow down there, you’ll choke!” Lacey exclaimed, snatching the fork from my hand.

            I frowned at her but agreed to eat slower. “So,” I grumbled with my mouth full of food. “When are we going on our daily walk?”

            “Eager to walk today?” She replied surprised. “That’s too bad…the doctor said that he’d like you to rest today.”

            “What, no! I can’t just sit here all day!” I exclaimed, smashing my fork down on the tray and flinging the tray off of me.

            “It won’t be that boring, I promise!” She insisted in an attempt to calm me.

            “I’m not worried about being bored,” I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. “I…have somewhere I need to go!”

            “Well, it will just have to wait until tomorrow,” she huffed, clearly put off by my eye rolling. Then she stormed out of the room with her nose in the air.

            God damn it. I growled and leaned back against my pillow. How am I supposed to visit Harry now?

            Harry’s POV

            I should’ve known that it was just a dream. It’s already late afternoon; if Louis was going to visit he would’ve visited by now. God, I’m such a fool sometimes!

            “Harold,” a familiar deep voice greeted as the door swung open. I glanced up to see the doctor standing before me with his little clipboard in hand.

            “Doctor,” I replied, nodding my head in acknowledgement.

            “Harold, I’m here to make one last plea with you: please let me perform the surgery,” the man begged.

            The sad way that he was looking at me made it extremely difficult to answer him. I gulped and closed my eyes.

            “I think you and I both know where this is going if we don’t give it a shot,” the man continued, giving me a significant look.

            I knew what he was implying: death.        

            “We’ve had this discussion so many times before, doc. I have no interest in the surgery. I thought I’d made that perfectly clear the first twenty times that you asked me,” I snapped.

            “And I will ask twenty more times if I have to!” The doctor exclaimed, throwing his clipboard down in exasperation. “I just can’t comprehend why you’re so damned set on killing yourself!”