Mica.
I pulled into the driveway of the old, mostly burned down, warehouse. Jacob was sitting at the door step, a bag at his foot. I climbed out of my car and locked it, jogging towards him.
"Are you crazy?" I whispered-shouted. He shrugged and nodded, smirking. I groaned. "Someone could have seen you!"
"Well they didn't," he said. "Let's get this over with. I'm tired."
We walked into the warehouse, Jacob letting us see with the flashlight in his hand. We walked over to the couch and sat down, taking the stuff out. He set out the drugs and drinks while I watched.
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Once we were both shitfaced and high enough for my liking, I wrote the note. My writing was messy and I could barely see, but I knew what to write. I knew what I was writing.
Dear my boys,
im writing this cos this is the last time i will ever get to write to you, not that i ever wrote to you before in the first place, but anyway. i die tonight. im not only saying this cos im high and shitfaced but cos i fucked up a lot of things and im tired. i hope you never find out what i went through that made me this way, but if u do, i am sorry, i am so so sorry. im the same mica you know, im the same mica you always knew, and im the same mica that loves u all to death. i'll probably be dead by the time you read this. don't come find me. night boys. see you later. i love you.
I folded it and stood up, staring at the sleeping Jacob. I laughed as I stumbled out to his car, ignoring mine, getting in and driving off.
I made it back to my house without crashing, but with swerving. Quietly, I ran up to the door, stuck the letter in the letter box, knocked, and ran off. I quickly got back in the car and drove off, tears pouring down my cheeks as I saw in the rear view mirror the front light turn on in the house.
Harry.
"Harry, someone knocked at the door."
"And?"
"Answer it!"
I groaned at Niall and stood up, walking over to the door. I could see through the glass that nobody was there, but there was a note in the letter box. I took it and saw boys scribbled across the front in familiar, messy writing.
"Mica left a note!" I said, walking in and sitting next to Louis before reading it.
"What's it say?" Liam asked.
I opened it and began to read, watching as Louis looked over my shoulder and read as well. I felt my eyes widen as I read, and I knew Louis was the same. Once I had finished, Louis was running to the bathroom. I heard him throwing up, but I couldn't do anything. I was frozen. Blank.
I hadn't realized the page had fell out of my hand until I heard Niall whimper. I looked up at him, his eyes wide and his hand over his mouth. Liam grabbed it off him so he and Zayn could read, which they did.
"Harry," Zayn whispered as Liam ran off to find Louis. "where did she go?"
"She... she said a friend's house, but she could be anywhere," I stuttered, my voice shaking. Zayn stood up, taking his phone out of his pocket and walking into the kitchen.
I looked up at Niall. He was panting heavily, his arms wrapped around himself. I stood up and walked over, sitting down next to him and pulled him into me as he cried. "She'll be alright," I whispered. But I think I was trying to convince myself more so than Niall.
"What if she's not?!" he shouted, looking up at me with wet, red eyes. "And don't give me that I know she is bullshit because she's trying to kill herself and she's probably already dead, Harry! And don't tell me not to say that because it's true!"
I stared at him, but I couldn't deny what he had said. It was true, and as much as I did not want to admit it, he was right.
Zayn walked in, holding his phone tightly. "The cops are on their way," he said, clearly trying to keep his voice steady and not freak out. I sighed and nodded, rubbing my arm up and down Niall's back. A few seconds later, Liam and Louis came back in--Louis wiping at his mouth.
"You alright?" Zayn asked him. Louis sighed and shook his head no, shrugging afterwards. After about five minutes of standing there, staring at each other silently, the door-bell rang. Without hesitating, Liam turned and ran to the door. I stood up and followed slowly close behind.
Liam opened the door to see two police men. He let them step in, which they did, nodding at me and Liam.
"The missing girl that wanted to kill herself, I think we may have found her," one of the cops said. My eyes widened as he continued. "Brown hair, little past shoulder lenght?"
"Yes."
"Black clothes, an ear piercing in her left ear?"
"Yes, that's her," I gushed, my heart racing.
"We've found her," the second cop said. We all breathed out sighs of relief. "She's in the hospital. She's been in a serious car accident."
And we froze again. Blank.
"Only two of you can come with us, the rest in the morning," the first cop said. "Who's coming?"
"Me and Harry will go," Louis said. I turned to him. He looked pale, but that was only from this whole situation. I nodded.
"Alright," the second cop said, "let's go."
Louis and I followed the cops to their car. Of course, the place was covered in paps. I knew in a matter of minutes this would be all over Twitter and rumors would be flying, so before they could start, I took out my phone and tweeted.
"Before anything starts, nobody is in trouble with the police. I would be happy if you didn't make anything up, thank you. H xx"
I sent it and sighed, slipping my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. Louis was resting his head against the window, blowing onto it. I watched the window fog up a bit for a couple of seconds with each blow of air. After a while, he sighed deeply, making the window very foggy for a few more seconds longer than usual.
"Harry," he whispered, turning to me slowly. His eyes were welling with tears and his bottom lip was trembling, "what if she isn't okay?"
"Don't say that, Lou, she'll be alright," I said, trying to move towards him--but he wouldn't let me. He shook his head and bit his shaky lip.
"No, no, no, Harry! Don't say that, because she probably isn't. She's been in a car accident, Harry. As much as I want to say she's alright, she probably isn't." I stared at Louis, thinking.
"Remember that time I fell out of the tree and hit my head on the way down and was dead for, like, a minute? And you tried to pull Mica out of the room, and then she heard me talking? You gave up, but she didn't even though the beepy thing stopped beeping. And remember the time I tried to kill myself? Twice? You didn't give up on me that time. Remember when the tree fell on her and could have killed her, but it didn't?"
Louis stared at me for a minute before nodding, scooting over and resting his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around him and held him as we drove to the hospital.
"She's a strong girl, Lou," I mumbled, "she's got this."
After ten minutes, we were there and rushed inside. There were a couple fans waiting outside, which annoyed me a bit, of course. It was at least one in the morning, and I told them not to come, and they show up.
One of the cops rushed us up the stairs and down to a special part of the hospital that certain people couldn't go down without passes. Mica was there.
We didn't need to think before walking into her room. She was a mess. She was in a hospital gown and was hooked up to so many things--the beepy thing included; the heart monitor. A bandage was wrapped around her head and small plaster-like bandages were covering her body. She was all cut up, dry blood covering her.
I hadn't realized Louis was crying until I heard him choke and sputter. I turned to him. He had his hands over most of his face. Even though I couldn't see the majority of his face, nor could I hear him, I could tell he was crying by the way his shoulder's were shaking.
I didn't cry though. I didn't feel like crying. I was far too tired to cry. My lips were parted a bit as I breathed heavily--that's all I really could do. Breathe. Because I went blank.
"She's not doing very well." Louis and I turned to the left to see a doctor we hadn't seen earlier. We stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "If she does wake up, she'll have no memory of anything because she has hit her head in an accident like this before. Her head is bad and it's affecting her breathing. She has broken five rib bones, her throat is cut badly - glass hit her there." I could hear Louis by now. "To tell you the truth, we don't think she'll pull through... If she makes it through the night, she'll definitely be okay. If she doesn't make it through the night, well..."
He didn't need to say anymore because both Louis and I knew what he meant.
Louis fell to his knees, choking and sputtering as the doctor left us with her to stay the night. Louis cried and cried. He cried as the clocked turned from nine to ten. And then he cried some more.
While I was sitting in the uncomfortable chair and holding Mica's hand like she had done with me, Louis sat in the corner and cried as eleven turned to twelve. By twelve-thirty, he had shut up. He had fallen asleep.
I stared at Mica, doing everything I could to keep my tired eyes open. Every time the nurse came in--which was every ten minutes--I asked her to bring me a cup of coffee. After a while she got tired of coming in, then going to the kitchen, then coming back, then leaving and doing the same thing every ten minutes, so she started to get the coffee before she came in for her ten-minute-check, knowing I'd ask. It wasn't helping--the coffee, I mean. I was still tired; I was still blank.
At three in the morning, I left Mica for an hour and went downstairs and out the door where three girls in One Direction shirts were sat, and I was instantly annoyed as I groaned--loud enough for them to hear--and flopped down on the step, putting my head in my hands. I heard them mumble to each other, the mumbling getting closer and closer.
"Harry?" I heard a soft voice whisper. I looked up, seeing a girl about fifteen with straight, long, brown hair looking down at me. She was holding a picture, but dropped it when she saw me. It was weird that they weren't freaking. They were normal, which was hard to find in a fifteen-year-old now.
She sat down in front of me and crossed her legs, putting her elbows on her knee's and her chin in her hands as she stared up at me. "Is it Mica?" She didn't need an answer as she continued talking, her friends coming over and joining; one with blonde hair, the other with blonde and purple, pink and blue dip-dyed ends.
"Mica is really funny and pretty. There's pictures of the accident... I really hope she'll be okay," the blonde said, pursing her lips and forcing a smile.
"We're not going to ask for pictures with you because you're sad and that'd be bitchy," dip-dyed said, "so we'll go. It was really cool to meet you. Thanks for saving my life. Bye, Harry." The three girls stood up, and hearing her telling me I svaed her life instantly made me think of Mica. I sighed.
"Wait," I said, standing up. They turned back to me with confused looks and I smiled at them. I motioned for them to come over, which they did with huge smiles. I took pictures with them, signed some things and gave them hugs before they left.
At about four in the morning, Louis woke up. He didn't seem to know where he was or why he was here, but he cried anyway. Not because of Mica, but because he was extremely confused and half asleep and scared. I had to sit with him for about sixteen minutes until his eyes got tired from all the crying and he fell back asleep. It was weird--crying makes you tired.
I was surprised Mica hadn't woken up by his screams. She usually wakes up when Louis walks down the hall at six in the morning when he goes to take a piss, simply because "he walks too loud". Which I always found unusual because Louis never walked loudly any other time. He did not have a loud step; his feet were too small to have a loud step. His six a.m. pisses only seemed to ever wake up Mica, and it still confused me.
At five in the morning, her heart monitor sped up very quick for a few seconds before going back to normal. I had stared at it until five-thirty, and then stared at her until six. She did not move and the monitor did not speed up again. I didn't tell the nurse because I knew what this was. She was dreaming. She was only asleep. And that put a smile on my face because she was asleep and not dead and she would wake up.
By seven, Louis had woken up again. His eyes were red and he complained about them being sore for ten minutes before going to bring us something to eat. He had come back at seven-thirty with no food, telling me the cafe wasn't open yet and he didn't want to go out, which I understood.
By eight, I was worried. The doctor kept coming in and checking something and no matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't tell me.
At nine, he asked us to leave the room. With a lot of arguing, pulling and yelling, I was outside the room with Louis. We sat there until nine-thirty when Liam, Zayn and Niall came upstairs with food. Then we ate.
At eleven, a bunch of people rushed in, shouting things I couldn't make out. Louis started to cry again, and Zayn went outside to smoke another cigarette. Niall sat next to Louis and cried with him and Liam held the two of them. Me? Blank.
A few more nurses and doctors ran in at eleven-thirty, causing Niall and Louis to cry more, Liam to hug them more, Zayn to go out for another smoke, and me to be blank.
At one p.m. as Zayn twirled his empty box of cigarette's in his hand, as Liam held a sleeping Niall and upset Louis and as I stared blankly at nothing, all the nurses and doctors walked out, away, and that one doctor frm the start walked towards us.
"I'm very sorry to say that Mica did not wake up. Her breathing stopped, and so did her heart. You can go in and see her if you like. Once again, I'm so sorry. We did as much as we could."
"Wasn't enough," I heard Zayn mutter. Suddenly, I heard a lot. Niall and Louis screaming, choking - crying. Liam sobbing quietly as he held them, telling them to be quiet. I even heard Zayn slide down the wall to sit on the ground and sigh loudly.
The last thing I heard was my name being yelled as I stood, and instantly fell to the ground. I blacked out.
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"Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry!"
"Shut up!" I groaned as I held my head, but there was already a hand holding an ice-pack to my head. I pulled my eyes open. Liam was standing over me; he was holding the ice-pack.
"You okay, mate?" he asked, a bit quieter this time. I was still outside Mica's room, but it was darker and just me and Liam.
"Not really, where are the lads? What time is it?" I asked, trying to sit up. Liam helped me sit up and handed me the ice-pack to hold myself.
"It's eight p.m. and the lads are in Mica's room. They're going to move her tomorrow," he told me. I sighed and nodded.
"How hard are Niall and Louis crying?" I asked. Liam couldn't help but chuckle a bit.
"Niall fell asleep on the couch, not too sure 'bout Lou though." I nodded, holding my head, whining a little. "Wanna go see her?"
I nodded again.
We both stood and walked in. Niall was, indeed, asleep. Zayn was sitting on the window sill, his legs dangling out the window as he smoked. Louis was sitting in the chair I sat in all night, staring at Mica--blank. As if my blankness had rubbed off onto the chair and on to Louis.
But the silence in the room was deafening, and I knew something wasn't right. That's when I looked at the heart monitor and realized it was turned off. I looked down at Mica, noticing that all the cords that were once attached to her were not gone. My heart sank.
"She's dead," I whispered. Liam nodded, moving over to the window to where Zayn was and leaning out. I stayed and stared, not being able to believe it.
For the first time in the many hours of worrying and staring and drinking coffee and being blank, I cried. I finally cried. And when I say I cried, I really cried. Niall woke up, Liam, Louis and Zayn turned to me. I sat on the ground, hugging my knees, and cried.
I felt two arms wrap around me--it was Louis, I could smell him. He held me tightly, whispering about how I held him, now it's his turn to hold me as I cried. And he held me as I cried, and cried, and then cried some more.
By ten p.m., I had stopped crying and Liam, Niall and Zayn were asked to leave. They said goodbye to Lou and I and one last goodbye to Mica as they left.
"You can go home Lou, get some proper sleep and a shower," I said to the tired boy. He sleepily shook his head, yawned, coughed, then changed his mind and nodded. He gave me a hug and we said goodbye.
And I was then alone with a dead little girl that I fell in love with three years ago.
I sat in the uncomfortable blank chair, but this time I didn't feel blank. I felt sad. Depressed, even. And I knew what depression was like.
And then I remembered that Mica's bag was under this chair. I reached under and pulled it up. Digging around inside it, I took out one half-full bottle of vodka and a bag of razor's.
I put the vodka back and stared at the baggie holding four razor blades. My body still had the scars from three years ago.
Without thinking, I took out a razor and stared at my somewhat cut-clean skin. I pressed the metal against my skin and dragged it across, watching as the blood poured out. I loved the way it looked. I loved it so much that I did the same thing five more times.
By one-thirty, I was cleaned up and asleep in the blank, white chair that now had red stains.