Before reading, remember this is only fiction, and does not reflect at all on how I feel about Niall, okay?
And, do not copy my work.
There is a bit of cussing, but it's not excessive.
Thanks you! I hope you enjoy!
[This was my first fanfic, and it was written January-July 2013, and it isn't amazing. But, if you are here now reading this, thank you for the support, and I hope you enjoy regardless of my old errors.]
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There was a light in my eyes blinding me. Where was I? I couldn't seem to make sense of things for a moment until I built up enough energy to sit myself up right; probably wasting what felt like ten minutes. Slouching, I began to take note of my surroundings. Encircling me was a pale blue curtain, barely serving as a wall. I hadn't quite noticed the noises around me, but when I began to here yelling, it seemed that I was yanked out of my disoriented state.
I'm in the emergency room.
Why? I was fine. I was fine, right? I looked down at my arms to find my shirt was slightly tattered and my pants were drenched in blood. Well, I supposed not drenched. I wasn't sure if it was good or bad that it was dry. That's when it hit me; what exactly had just happened.
Immediately my heart rate escalated, and my breath began hitching unsteadily. "Shit." I immidiately jumped onto my feet, pushing through the cloth enclosing me forcefully. "Where is he?" I asked, yelling at the nurse that had immediately turned in my direction to shun me from the hectic mess weighing upon the people surrounding. Doctors seemed to crowd together as they rushed in one direction to the left up a hallway. Maybe it was my eyesight, or maybe it was my fear, but I somehow failed at finding what door they went in because I couldn't see.
"I don't know who you're talking about!" she replied, looking worried as her head turned in the directions the doctors had just ran. She was knawing on her bottom lip until she turned to look at me once again. "Just get back in there and sit down. A doctor or someone will be with you in a little bit."
A little bit? I knew better than that. I wasn't the one in the most risk currently, but I didn't want attention. I didn't need it. "No," I replied in a curt tone, spurring past her insolently.
She seemed to run forward after me, but somehow either I got ahead of her, or she decided to give it up—which for the record—was in fact the best decision because she wasn't going to stop me. I ran down the corridor dizzily, which seemed endless as I veered my head every which way to see which room he was in. It was like I was never going to find him. Maybe I did need treated, because I was almost convinced that I was exaggerating the length of the hallway.
Finally, after all the unsteady running, I found him. It was obvious that he had just recently arrived considering they were just now starting to treat him.
Everyone's heads flicked in my direction when I broke there concentration. “Is he going to be okay?” I bawled. No one answered. "Is he?"
The doctors were distracted, and seemed to disregard my comment until I repeated myself yet again. "We don't know!" one yelled, clearly angry. "Get out of here!"
"Niall!" I whined. His head seemed to fall over in my direction but his eyelids looked so heavy that I couldn't even make eye contact with him. He let out an uncomfortable groan that seemed soft, convincing me that he was trying to talk but couldn't manage to get anything out. "Do something!"
"We're trying! Get out!"
"You have to—"
Another female doctor butted in. "Okay that's it," she said turning around. "Someone get her out of here!"
I guess I hadn't noticed the presence behind me, but I soon was aware when someone's hand lightly gripped my arm, preparing to grasp it harder. "Don't touch me," I snapped wiping my muggy eyes, stomping out of the room.
I trudged quickly down the corridor, and out of the emergency room, as I swept past the crowd of people sitting in the right side of the waiting room. I sat down in a chair isolating myself from the environment. I could feel everyone's eyes glued to me, but I ignored it as I let my head fall into my hands. My thoughts were so hectic, I wasn't sure what to think about first. I was having a hard time completely remembering my trip in the ambulance, and it didn't really make sense to why exactly. I pulled up from my palms for a second getting a foggy view of the mascara and water sitting in my hands. Earlier, less than an hour ago everything was fine. We were literally just going to dinner, and we got hit by another car. I lightly dabbed at my forehead looking for a wound. It didn’t take long before my shaky hands found the gaping scratch on my head. I ran my hands delicately down my jawline to find a smaller one close to my chin. I heavily took a breath, but even then it was unsteady from my previous crying. I was calm, almost, but only for a moment. I felt the emotion wash over me once again. I strained, getting an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, but it busted out regardless. I was crying again. I swayed taking in a deep uncomfortable groan.
He shouldn’t be the one that got hurt.
“Excuse me,” someone said.
My chest was hitching and shaking, due to the fact that I was almost somewhat, “Uh huh?” I asked roughly rubbing my right eye, followed by the left. I looked around to find it wasn’t to me. I closed my eyes and the crying resumed, not that it had come to a complete halt. To be honest, it was pretty disappointing to find that no one wanted to help me, but I guess that's not what matter mattered anyway. I wasn't the one that truly mattered in the situation.
I somehow managed to make it through an agonizing hour or two, until I began biting my nails and pacing the now empty waiting room.
This is taking too long.
He has to be okay then, right?
"Hurry up," I whispered to myslef, taking my hand to my mouth where I began biting my nails.
Suddenly my torture stopped when I heard a woman's voice. "Claire?" she asked, mumbling in a fashion that was difficult to hear. That scared me—a lot. "You're Claire, correct?"
I turned around instantly. "Huh?" I asked. I had never been more nervous for something in my entire life. Yes or no? Is Niall okay? Yes or no?
She swallowed, keeping her view on the floor. "Look, um," she coughed, "I'm so sorry to inform you, but he didn't—he didn't make—"
“No,” I said. “No, no, no.”
I couldn’t accept it; he couldn't be gone.
My eyes were flooded with tears as a sick feeling built in my stomach. I wasn't sure what it was. Guilt, or maybe disgust... Disgust? From what? Maybe disgust in the doctors.
"We tried," she said; a cold look of sincerity and sadness in her eyes. "We intended on getting him through it—and we hoped that he'd at least make it enough to see you one last time," she murmured as water began tracing the rim of her eyes. She held it back, and finally, she had the nerve to look me in the eyes. "He's gone."
I didn't bother saying much back. "Alright—you tried," I said, involuntarily letting a hint of doubt fall into my tone. I paced to the corner of the room—hesitantly—deciding to start towards the door until I stopped myself, turning around indecisively. "Um," I choked out between shaky breaths and tears. "Let me see him. I mean—uh, can I see him, please?" I asked.
She nodded, licking her lips. There was a reluctance in her eyes as she looked up to me. Not only was this bad for me, but I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. She just watched someone die, and partly under her care. “Yeah,” she stuttered out. “C’mon,” she said leading me hesitantly back to the emergency room. I tripped over my feet, low toned, raspy breaths coming from my achy lungs, as I followed. Was I prepared for the sight I was about to see? I had never seen a dead person. Not a dead person that I cared about, that hadn't been prepared for a funeral first. I felt my heart pounding in the back of my head. I was dizzy. I rubbed my face, clenching my jaw. The tears hadn’t stopped. How much were they going to escalate once I got into the room? I hadn't noticed that we had already somehow reached the door of his room. "I’ll leave you,” she stated gesrturing her hands toward the direction of him and the hosipital door, only half open. For Niall was in there, and he wasn't going to be the person I once knew. She shrugged in a tense manner, biting down onto her bottom lip. “I’ll be back,” she whispered moving as if she had gotten a sudden cold chill, walking away uncomfortably soon after.
I put my hands around the metal doorknob. I pushed the heavy door open with a creek into the dim silent room. Across from me was laying a covered body on a bloody bed.
I put my hands over my mouth holding back smothering breaths. “Niall,” I whispered. “This can’t be happening.” I shook my head. Denial began consuming me as I said, “No,” I hadn’t seen his face. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to pull the cover that was over him down. Was he bruised? How bad was his face caved in? Was it caved in? Did thath happen? Were his lips blue? Blue, like the way people had told me they get after death? I gripped the sheet, feeling a bit of his hair. “Oh my god,” I cried out in a hushed tone, purely terrified. I wasn’t prepared. No, not at all. “Niall!” I screeched under my breath as I put my right hand that was just on the drying, bloody sheet, over my mouth. “Niall,” I whispered to myself. I couldn't stop shaking. My body was cold. I was freezing, and I was scared. I was horrified, and absolutely devistated. He had no color left in his face, but other than that I was surprised to find he wasn't caved in, or bloated. But, unlike what I would've liked to believe he was much, much different. He wasn't at all like I imagined. His face was gashed and bloody. He laid there emotionless, and I couldn't seem to get it sunk in that he was gone, and that I was not going to get a response no matter what I did. I tried rubbing my hand over his cheek, but I couldn't do it comfortably; so I stopped. Completely trapped with being indesisive, I settled on resting my head on his chest; which honestly made it worse, being that it was a sudden reminder that he wasn't breathing. I couldn’t describe the feeling I had inside; it was awful. What was I going to do? His parents, his family. I had to tell them, and I barely could accept it myself.
“You look sick sweetie,” the doctor announced from behind me, making me jump. “You need to go home and get some rest. His family will be called and they’ll arrange the funeral. You can see him again then—it’s in your best interest. I promise,” she said. I felt awful; dizzy, and nauseated.
I didn't say anything to her, but I seemed to hold eye contact well. I guess she grew tired of the silence, and opened her arms for a hug. No matter what way I looked at it I couldn't see it being one hundred percent sympathetic. Regardless, I accepted it and gave her a tight squeeze. "At least you tried,” I said, not giving her one last look and running out of the hospital, past the mute doctors and the silent janitor that had seemed to take my place in the empty waiting room. It was now I had to face another obstacle. Walk home in the cold, or call someone for a ride? Calling someone for a ride would mean stepping another foot in that hospital which I didn’t want to do, but it was late. Walking home was the final decision I ended up making though. I had no jacket, and my clothes weren't serving me well. I winced as I watched my breath fall in puffs. I felt the depression, but there was very little emotion I could express toward the situation. It was really painful knowing there was no way to fix this and that I was stuck with the result. I couldn't turn back time, and this was it. I had already let out all the feeling I thought seemed to be possible in the past six hours or so, but I knew this wasn't over, and I was positive this was going to last and be long-term for the next month or so.
I finally saw my apartment building in the distance, causing me to let out a heavy sigh of relief. I stumbled into the entrance, and up the stairs to the seventh floor. I stomped the door in, turning the lights on as I threw my key onto a the first table I saw; not bothering to take note. I walked across the room and sat on the chair by the window. I looked down through the glass to the street below. There was a couple walking home; I assume. I watched as they laughed, and talked happily. That could’ve been me, but obviously tonight had crumbled and fallen. Am I ever going to have that again? I thought. Probably not. I couldn't see myself with anyone else...
It didn't help looking down to find one of Niall's shirts messily slouched over the edge of the arm of the chair. I picked it up, squeezing it. I could smell his cologne radiating off of it. I let out an unhappy chuckle, not really knowing how to react to all of this. I soon gave up on thinking about it, and folded it up as I began to slowly cry again. I sat it down neatly, and shuffled my way over to the couch. I tried comfortably curling up after covering myself with a black blanket. The blanket was fairly irrelevant, I just didn’t want to have to bother with getting it later. I wasn’t going to be doing anything productive for a while. I let out odd sounds as I began to cry harder. “Damn it."
All you could hear were my breaths.
Hours passed. All I did was think of memories and cry. It all happened so quick; way too quick. But eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I turned over getting one last view of the clock, and that was it; I was asleep.
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I don't think it's not obvious, that this was hard to write... But anyway, thanks for reading, and please tell me what you think. (: