-Harry's POV-
Five hours.... That's how long the flight was.
Could of taken hours, days, years. I didn't know the difference.
Forty two I-Messages.... That's how many I received while in the air.
I returned some. Lou's, the lads, Gemma's, my Mum. It was nonsense, what I wrote back. I didn't care.
Seventeen.... That's the number of times I got sick.
At first, I went back and forth from my seat to the loo. Soon enough I just sat down in the cramped space, on the floor, knowing there was no point in going far.
One Hundred Ninety Two Minutes.... That's how long I was on the phone with Liam.
I know it was selfish of me, probably mean even. But for some reason I needed to talk to him. My fingers fumbled over the plane phone, I didn't hesitate to dial his number. He understood, at least more then anyone else. He answered on the first ring, he was crying. Tried to hide it, but I knew. I told him everything I knew. He told me everything would be fine. He was there for me. He's always there for me. I apologized, I was wretched to him. He didn't care, once again he understood. He proved it to me once again... He was my best mate. He was my brother. He'd only ended the call when he had to board his flight. He was coming, they all were. All the days events had been cancelled, they were right behind me.
On Hundred Eleven Minutes.... That how long I was on the phone with my mum.
I didn't say much. She answered quickly, said my name. I lost it. Cried like a baby on the floor of the loo for almost two hours. Only stopping when I felt my stomach churn. Only stopping when I dropped the phone on the floor to lean over the toilet. Our call ended when she got on the road, headed towards the airport.
My life was full.
Full of people who loved me. Filled with people who would be there for me. They were proving it right now.
My life was full.
But I felt empty.
A shell. My soul wasn't with me. It was sat in an operating room, holding on to Ava, begging her to make it.
There was a car waiting for me on the tarmac. Zayn told me there would be. I got in without a word, the driver knew where I needed to go.
Twenty Two Minutes... That's how long it took to get to the hospital.
We only had to pull over once. My already emptied stomach just making me wretch along the side of the road. Someone stopped and snapped a picture.
There was a police car at the emergency entrance. Fans. A dozen of them at least. They wouldn't allow them inside. They were trying to make them go home. I was spotted the second I got out. My name was screamed. I was asked for pictures. I didn't say a word as I pushed passed them. For the first time in my life, I hated my job.
Finn was waiting right inside the doors, his eyes widened when he saw me. I knew I was pale, white as a ghost so one of the stewardesses told me when she tried to force some food on me. I knew my eyes were bloodshot, my driver giving up his own sunglasses so I could hide behind them as I walked past the fans. I knew I was trembling, I'd dropped almost everything I gripped in my hand.
The bags under his eyes were prominent as he gave me a hug, greeting me without a word. Leading me through the ICU doors without a word. She was still in surgery, I knew.
The ICU waiting room was empty. Except for one older man. He stood up when I entered, he knew who I was. The blood under his nails told me who he was. My neighbor. Our neighbor. I'd seen him before, once or twice when I was jogging. He'd always shoot me a friendly wave. I'd always returned it. His little girl borrowed sugar once, was making mud pies in her backyard.
I shook his hand, I gave him a hug. A thank you would never be enough. Nothing would ever be enough. He told me how sorry he was. I told him I owed him everything.
We were quiet as the three of us waited. We jumped up as the doctor came into the room.
She'd made it through surgery, but they still weren't sure. She still wasn't awake, she still wasn't breathing on her own. They still wouldn't let me see her.
Finn and I were left alone, our neighbor was assured that we would let him know what happened.
Four hours.... That's how long we sat in the waiting room until the door opened again.
Lou was crying. She grabbed me first. I was numb as the rest of the lads hugged me, tried to comfort me. I knew they all had a million questions, but they didn't ask them. They knew I couldn't hear it all explained again. Broken hand, broken ribs, two puncture wounds...
Fifty Six Minutes... That's when the door opened next.
She was hysterical. Crying so hard as Finn hugged her she couldn't speak. She screamed at the nurses, demanding to see her. Demanding them to at least let me in the room. Her pleas were ignored. She went silent. Niall held her, but he didn't know what to do. None of us had ever seen Poppy in such a state.
They talked, but I didn't hear them. Not until Poppy's voice broke through the haze in my head.
"Did... Did the doctor say if she was..."
I looked up, having stared down at my boots for a solid half hour now. Her eyes met mine and I knew. No. No no no. I jumped up, my feet carrying me out the room and to the nurses station with purpose. I asked for the doctor, my voice unrecognizable.
When he was finally standing in front of me, I felt sick. Again. He patted me on the shoulder, "You needed something son?"
"Was she raped?" The words flew out of my mouth, feeling like acid on my tongue.
"I'm not supposed to give out information like that unless it's to family." He look pained as he said it.
"I'm her fiancee." I blurt out, my voice desperate. "Please."
He shook his head, not believing me. I'm sure he'd heard that before, from other desperate boyfriends. "Son..."
"She had a ring." I cut him off, my eyes shooting to the nurse sitting behind the desk, "She was probably wearing it."
"Marta, can you confirm that?" The doctor questions the nurse I'm staring at.
"Yes sir, she was wearing an engagement ring. I can show it to you if you'd like.."
"Not necessary." He shook his head once again, his eyes glancing back to me, "We did perform a rape test. It was negative."
Relief, it spread through me like a wave. I sighed, taking a deep breath. "Thank god."
"I'm sorry I didn't realize you were family Mr. Styles. Would you like to see her?"
My eyes widened. I nodded. My heart beat so fast it hurt.
I followed him, taking turns down several hallways. He led me through two doors labeled recovery. He stopped in front of another labeled 1526. He nodded at me as he pushed the door open.
I heard beeping, all I saw was a curtain.
"I'll give you a few minutes."
With that I was left alone, the door was closed. I hesitated, stepping forward slowly. I could feel my pulse everywhere. I don't think I even had control of my hand as it pushed the curtain back.
I gasped, my hand flying up to my mouth. My teeth biting down on my knuckle. No. No no no.
The first thing I saw was her arm, the iv poked into it, small cuts adorning the skin. Her small hand, in a cast. I felt sick.
My eyes drifted up to her face. So purple, swollen. A few stitches above her left eyebrow, a breathing tube down her throat.
I neared the bed, stopping at the foot of it. You wouldn't know, you couldn't be able to tell this was my Ava. I moved next to the bed, running my hand over her hair as the tears streamed down my face. My large hand found her small one. I grasped it softly, gently. It was cold... So cold.
"Av.... you've...please love..." My weak voice broke. I could barely stand.
My eyes fell, landing on the clipboard hanging off the side of the bed. I knew I wasn't supposed to handle it. It said confidential right on the front.
With one hand holding Ava's, the other grasped the wooden clipboard and opened the folder attached to it.
Words I didn't understand.. Pages of them. I started to shut it, but a corner of a picture caught my eye. I flipped open the folder to it. It was an x-ray of her hand, one place circled on it to highlight the broken bone. Underneath it was another, this one of her ribs. I shuffled through several just like it, freezing when I came to an actual photograph.
Her stomach, close up. Wounds that had been cleaned. The next was worse. So worse. I cried, choking. I couldn't breathe. She was naked, her clothes having been cut off her, small towels draped across her breasts and hips. Her stomach, her hands, her face. All covered in blood. I couldn't breathe.
Fourteen minutes... That's how long my panic attack lasted.
The nurses tried to calm me, talked me through taking deep breaths. Didn't work. My throat had closed up, I'd fallen onto the floor. I didn't feel my gasping ease up till Louie was gripping my arm, saying my name. They didn't bring me out of the room, just laid me down in the next bed.
An inhaler was given to me, an iv was inserted into my arm. I was so weak they insisted on it. I didn't fight them. I couldn't.
It was proof. I literally couldn't live without her.
As soon as the room cleared, I hauled myself up, steadying myself as the room spun. I pulled the iv behind me towards her bed, dropping down onto a chair next to it. I held her hand. I petted her hair. I sang to her softly.
Forever.... That's how long I would sit beside her bed, begging her to wake up.
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