What. The. Fuck.
He's clinging to Louis, trying his damn hardest to stop the bleeding. Harry's holding the wounds with his coat, applying all the pressure he can. He's crying. He doesn't know what to do. He's angry, he shouldn't be dealing with this shit. He starts yelling, as loud as he possibly can for back up.
"Someone fucking help me! He's dying," Harry screams so loud his voice cracks.
He looks around the room, desperate to find something that could help. The bed's blankets. He could tie them around the wounds. He gently places Louis on the floor, trying to avoid noticing that Louis is completely unconscious. He reaches the bed and notices a few pieces of paper on the bed. He takes them and notices the others all over the floor. He frowns. What the actual fuck is this kid playing at? He shoves them into his pant pockets and then returns his attention to the blanket. He uses all the force he can possibly summon and rips it in half. He runs back to Louis and ties each blanket around each wrist. He focuses on the blood, trying to help reduce it. As much as possible. He's shaking and he can see that he's covered in Louis' blood. He gags slightly and starts to yell again. He's trying to do CPR on Louis, but it becomes apparent that he really has no fucking clue how to perform this shit, surely if he was a trained guard, this kind of shock would make him remember something. He's crying. He doesn't want this boy to die.
"Louis. Louis," He's yelling
"Ha-Jake! Jake," A voice fills the room as Harry is suddenly thrown backwards
Harry feels a strong pair of arms holding him. He is so fucking confused but he can feel rage burning in his blood.
"Why are you holding me!? I didn't fucking do shit! Focus on the fucking kid! I was just trying my hardest to save his fucking life you fuck!"
Harry lashes out, pulling himself out of the grip. He glares at the man. He notices it's the blonde kid, Oliver. He shakes his head.
"I need to wash this shit off, I'm covered in his blood. It's making me ill. I don't want him dead. I tried. Just save him." Harry shook his head, storming out of the room.
He can't get out of their fast enough, if he thought he had a headache when he started to hold Louis, now he had a migraine that was doing nothing but progress at a rapid rate. He clenched his jaw, and tried to find the closest bathrooms. It wasn't too long before he's locked himself in a bathroom. He collapses in a shower cubicle. He groaning and massaging at his head, his vision is blurring. He's so fucking angry.
"JUST FUCKING STOP," He screams, hitting himself in the head
His hands are covered with bright, still wet blood. He's covered in Louis' blood. The blood is so bright, so fresh. It makes his head want to explode. He takes the papers out of his pocket, and throwing them on a bench as he reaches to turn on the shower. He wants it ice cold. Anything that will help this killer headache. He positions himself so he's directly under the cold blast of water and he sighs. He watches as the water pools beneath him and slowly goes down the drain, bright fucking red. He's washing the blood of this poor kid. This doesn't seem like the first fucking time either. There's a strange déjà vu about this. Has he had to fucking save someone like this before? If he can remember cleaning the blood of poor suicides or some shit like that, then why can't he remember how to save or help them? The thinking just worsens his headache so he tries not to think. He just focuses on the ice cold water almost massaging his head, and focuses on the water falling down the drain. Seconds, minutes and possibly hours pass before Harry's migraine has almost completely disappeared. He still has a light, ache at the back of his head but it's manageable. His clothing is clinging to him and his coat is still stained by the blood of Louis, so he throws it on the floor. He doesn't know how to dispose of it. He just leaves it. He moves out of the shower and returns to the papers he found. Maybe these fucking papers would indicate some reason why Louis would do something so fucking stupid. He opens one.
He swears to fucking god this is a joke.
"What the fuck,"
"What the actual fuck?!" He yells, his hair raising on his skin and a shiver makes its way up his spine
He is honest to god, staring at a picture of himself. It's like a statement. He can't look past it. He doesn't even think he can start to read. Why the fuck does this kid have a picture of him, and where the fuck did he get it from? HOW?! He forces himself to stop looking at the picture and tries and focuses on the writing. He can't seem to read it fast enough. He finds himself reading over it once, twice and a third time. He's shaking. He's so fucking angry. He's seeing actual red.
This kid is trying to set him up as a murderer? He'd show him what a murderer was. He'd fucking find him, and stab him to death. His mind is already made up. Louis Tomlinson was a wanted man. Louis Tomlinson was going to die, by tonight. Harry grabs the next piece of paper, reading it over and over. He spends over an hour reading every single one, trying to build an understanding of what is going on.
An idea pops up. It's a quiet voice in the back of his mind. It's almost so quiet he misses it, but he doesn't.
You're a lunatic. You killed them. You killed Jade.
He hears it in his own voice, but he hears it again, from a different voice. It's repeating, he just wants to scratch at his brain. He wasn't. He wasn't a murderer. He looks at the names, over and over. He can't seem to get any re-collection of the names. But they do leave an odd burn in the back of his throat. The name Jade... it burns the most. It leaves an odd empty feeling in his chest. He can't explain it. He really can't. But the worst part of it all, is the last article. Saying that he, had apparently been admitted to THIS correction institution. How can this be? How can they have a picture of him but use the name Harry Styles when his name is Jake. He rips up the papers, into the smallest pieces possible and forces them down a drain, using as much water as he can to help wash them down. He's still covered in soaking clothing but he will find the Head Mistress and request new clothing. He's still shaking and not to mention, the headache. It's bad. But not as bad it was when dealing with Louis.
The hallways and corridors of the asylum are almost dead quiet, there's little action. And Harry might not have been working here again for long, but he knows this isn't normal. There's always noise and weird people walking around. He walks around, before he finds Head Mistress Landles.
"Jake?" She gasps a few seconds after locking eyes with Harry.
"There was an incident," Harry spoke firm
"I know. I know. So terrible. Such a waste," She looked down and shook her head softly
"A waste? Is he dead?" Harry's eyes widen
"As far as I'm concerned. The nurses are trying their hardest but he's really lost a lot of blood. I heard that you were the hero. You had been trying to stop the bleeding," She smiles at him
"It's my job. I didn't know what to do. I had no recollection of anything. I was just guessing everything. You'd think if I worked here, I would remember something significant like that if I was presented with it again?"
"Not necessarily. It depends on the brain really, and how fast the healing process takes or whether it ever completely heals. It's okay. You did a brilliant job, in fact, you may not have known what you were doing but you did everything right. You did not leave the boy, you called for help and assisted him to best of your ability,"
"I'm still wearing these clothes, that are soaking wet and I can just tell his blood is still on them,"
"Did you shower?"
"No. I just jumped in the river." Harry sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes
"I don't appreciate the sarcasm Jake. I will get my assistant to grab you fresh clothing. Wait. Where is your coat?"
"I couldn't keep it on. I didn't want to see it anymore. It's in the shower block of Mr Tomlinson's ward,"
"You just left it in there!?" Miss Landles eyes widen
"Yes. It was making me feel ill. I left it on the floor in my shower cubicle. The corridors are completely empty. No one will find it for the time being," Harry frowns
"I will have someone tend to it immediately. Anastasia! Please grab the young man fresh clothing. His sizing should be on the system. Give me a moment," She smiles at Harry before disappearing into the assistant's room.
Harry crosses his arm, shaking from the cold. He looks around the room. He never realised how dreary this place was. It was so lifeless, and so grey and cold. He frowned and looked at the floor. A minute or so had passed before Miss Landles returned with a smile that was all too fake.
"If you go to the staff room, Anastasia shall bring your fresh clothing. Once you get changed, just throw the clothing in the staff bin. Make yourself a tea and just relax. What just happened must have been a truly terrifying experience,"
"Yeah...thanks."
"Goodbye Jake,"
"Bye,"
Harry turns on his heel and makes his way to the staff room. He overhears the name Louis and freezes. He presses against the wall, and listens carefully to staff.
"What's going on with that Louis fella?"
"He's stable. I mean..It was bad. We had to put him on some life support. I had to fight with Head Mistress Landles. She wanted life support turned off and let him die. I couldn't let that happen. He doesn't know any better. He's struggling. He just needs help,"
"This place ain't going to do anything. I mean look at that Harry Styles guy for example. He was a fucking psycho. Lunatic if you'd like to call it. I wouldn't approach him. I think the guy met his fate though. Word is he died in his sleep. I haven't seen him around in a while. Kind of sad really. He should have been receiving treatment...well. Enough about that one. I hope Louis makes it,"
"I hope he does too. It's sad really. Last time this happened, Harry actually-,"
Harry can't help it anymore, he can't listen to it. His head is ringing and his hands are shaking. He just walks away, and makes his way to the staff room. He needs a tea, he needs warm clothes and he needs to kill Louis. He wouldn't really know what bloodlust was, but if he could guess, this was an extreme case of it. How dare Louis spread this?
How dare Louis Tomlinson use a picture of him under the title Serial Killer? How dare he spread it around the asylum? That explains why a few people had called him Harry earlier. He was a guard here, and Louis just found it fun to turn it into some kind of sick game to create him as a psycho. When he had the crash and was away for a while, he would have told everyone. All the new and all the old. They're all fucking psychopaths here, they'd believe anything. They'd feed on any kind of entertainment or gossip. Harry's shaking. He can't think straight. He was going to stab, strangle Louis. He needed to get into that room. He was going to rip that life support out of his mouth, and listen to Louis gasp for no air as he chokes him to death. He was going to take Louis Tomlinson's life with his own hands.
Harry storms into the staff room. He inhales deeply before going to make himself a cup of tea.
"Why are you wet?" A voice fills the room
Harry turns around, glaring at the man who spoke. It was a guard. Liam.
"What do you want?" He snapped
"What's your problem?"
"I asked you something first," Harry rolled his eyes
"Actually, I did. If I recall correctly," Liam smirks
"Well. If you must fucking know. A patient here, had a fucking suicidal episode. Ripped all his stitches off and I had to fucking find him. I tried to help him. I couldn't do it. I got help. I had to shower all the blood off. And now I'm wearing wet, bloody clothing and I'm cold. And to make it all better, the kid is still fucking alive."
"Still alive?" Liam frowned, taking a seat
Truthfully. Liam was fucking terrified. This was a Harry he knew too well. There was no longer a quiet, helpful guard. It was a guard with the force of a killer. A killer that is known as Harry Styles.
"He's on life support or some shit. He's made up this stupid fucking rumour that I'm some killer. When I had my accident and was away. He decided to make up some story that I'm a murderer! Can you believe it! I'm so fucking pissed off,"
Liam's heart stops.
"A killer?"
"I don't know. I don't fucking know."
"Jesus," Liam whispers
"Have you heard that I'm Harry Styles?"
Liam looked up. He's losing his sanity. He doesn't breathe. Harry watches him, carefully. And Liam can't reply.
"I-,"
"It's a joke. He's a joke. He isn't going to be on life support much longer. He ain't going to be alive much longer," Harry mutters, before looking at Liam.
Harry physically tenses up. He waits for Liam to completely freak. He holds his breath. And Liam knows Harry's here. It might not have clicked, but Harry is here, just masked underneath the lies this place has fed him.
"I don't think you will kill him." Liam frowns
"I will,"
The door suddenly opens and Harry sits up straighter and Liam jumps. Harry almost shouts as Head Mistress Landles assistant enters the room with fresh clothing. Liam feels nauseas. Louis had succeeded. Harry was back, without even realising yet. But failed, because he had unleashed a bloodlust that Liam had not seen out of his brother in his entire life.
(Hi fam. thanks for being patient. I've been extremely busy. I just wanted to share some good news along with an update. I got accepted into doing a Bachelor of Criminology and Criminal Justice at University and I'm also studying a Diploma of Beauty Therapy! Life is looking good, but also means I'm as busy as I'll ever be. Thanks for being patient. and don't forget to comment belowwww! i love you xxx)