Only Angel [h.s]

▹18◃

London. St Mary's Hospital

Things had become repetitive throughout my stay in the hospital. The doctors would check on me, take any medication if I was in pain and Samantha would come with a coffee. She rarely stayed longer than five minutes. Things had been stressed, I was released from hospital this morning, though Harry's team insisted on the doctors that I was not ready to leave.

Though we all knew the reason why they were acting like that.

They thought I would run.

But I had grown tired of running from my life, I admitted that I loved Harry and if I planned on running I would not be at his bedside constantly. I would take any opportunity to try and create a plan to escape. I would not sit and cry, hold his hand and constantly want to be around his presence. Some people can really be stupid. Though Samantha said it was for my mental health not to be alone in the house, but I'm sure Harry gave her instructions just encase something like this happened.

Despite boring routines, today was different. It was not like the other days of checks up, coffee's and flicking through the basic five channels the television held in the hospital room. There wasn't a constant feeling of being watched by his bodyguards or security team. I still didn't know what to call the two big men who constantly surrounded myself and Harry. It was a different.

Why?

Harry was awake.

He looked worse if possible, now his eyes had fluttered open. The doctors thought it was too early for him to be awake, and planned to put him back in a coma. Though since I was his fiance, I had the final say, and decided to leave Harry be. 

He had barely spoken a word, struggled to keep his eyes awake at the best of times and the confusion on his face was clear. Well that was at the start. Once he gained his strength, he basically told me to leave the room and all of a sudden people were in the hospital room discussing. Probably about what happened. Sam did say they had an idea. Which now that I thought about it, meant that car accident was in fact no accident. Naturally scaring me and making me curious.

So I had spent the last two hours in the rehabilitation room, trying to gain strength in my wrist once more. It was only just as my session ended, was I summoned to the great Harry Styles himself. 

For a brief moment, I stood by the door and watched as he looked through his phone. A laptop was placed on the table to one side, the screen black as he typed furiously on his phone. The bruising had gone down, and he looked somewhat better but the pain and trauma was evident on his features. The way he would wince when he moved slightly, or constantly ask for pain killers. His brows would screw up in confusion when thinking of a memory, and he would bit hard on his lip if he accidentally moved his body to quickly.

"Baby girl."

I shivered a little, it was odd hearing him speak to me once more, like I heard not heard his voice in years. I pushed myself from the door frame and walked further into the room, sitting in the sit that had become mine, over the course of days I had sat there. Harry still was on his phone, as I slumped into the cold seat pushing to closer to the bed, just as he turned and gave me his attention. 

"Isabel," he breathed, his hand reaching up to my face. The warm soft palm of left hand stroked my cheek, as I naturally lent into the feeling. My fluttered shut, feeling him raise my head and pressing his lips one my forehead making me smile weakly. The doctor said that Harry would be okay, they assured me he would be fine. Just one more week at hospital and then it would be the recovering period that would take a while.

"Hi."

My voice cracked slightly as I looked at him, my hand holding his own, due to my other arm being broken. Harry looked down at me, his eyes no doubt lingering to the broken arm and constant bruising on my body. I wasn't surprised when I saw anger flash through his eyes. He gritted his teeth, and turned away as if he was ashamed to see me in such pain. Though I was numb now. 

"How are you feeling?" It was a stupid question coming from Harry, I was better than he was. But I knew he just cared about me, deep down in his twisted heart. I mean he loves me, that much I know. I smiled fondly up at Harry, shrugging a little and answering his question, though it seemed it was not paying loads of attention cause he kept staring at my eyes and then at my broken arm. It somewhat made me self conscious.

I knew he was angry over the whole situation of what occurred that night. The car accident, the fact I felt as if it was caused on purpose, and Samantha only answering my thoughts on the night. It felt so distant now, mostly because for the last week or so, I had not left the hospital. And I wanted nothing more than to return to the safety and comfort of the house. But it would be another few days before that would be able to happen, especially in Harry's state.

It was all over the news, tabloids publishing the iconic moment of Harry Styles in a hit and run. Paparazzi had been standing outside the hospital for days, Samantha had called a press meeting and released a statement about the incident. One paparazzi managed to get in the building and tried to ask questions, but they were removed. 

"I'm going to get you some more water," I spoke standing up as we barely spoke. It was a foreign feeling now, like we could barely speak to each other. Harry held my hand tightly, though soon let go as I gave him a weak smile. He returned it, but the smile never reached his eyes. That's when a part of me thought, that perhaps he felt guilty. But it wasn't his fault, I wanted to go home early that night after my parents, I was ill. If we left slightly earlier we could have avoided the accident or if we left later it could have been a lot worse than it was.

Leaving the room, I dragged my tired body towards where the fountains were kept. I spotted a spare jug and went to reach for it, only for someone nudge into my side, a piece of paper shoved into the palm of my hand. Jumping a little, I turned to try and spot the figure, though they blended in with nurses and doctors alike, everyone shuffling through the hallway.

The paper was small, clearly ripped off a notebook and crumpled up into a small ball. Gingerly, I began to gently unfold the paper not wanting to cause any more tears. It already seemed as if it the paper itself was delicate. For a moment I thought it was a paparazzi trying to get me to speak to them, but then again, they would crowd me and try to get a word. So with a big sigh, I simply unfolded the paper and looked at the words messily written down.

'I can help you leave him.'