That Brunette And Me

Amelia just moved to Britain from a small town, after having a terrible relationship with a past boyfriend. She meets superstar Liam Payne, but can she get over heartbreak, the wrath of Directioners, and being in fame? Or will she break under the pressure?

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60. The Good and the Bad.

*Elle's POV*

I paced nervously inside of my room, wringing my hands until they turned bright red. Why did Amelia have to have this happen now? We all knew it was going to happen, but why so soon?

It all started the day she was admitted into the hospital.

 

While Amelia was still unconscious, the doctors came to us, their faces grim. They told us that Amelia required some surgery that may or may not help her at all. It was risky, they said, and she had only a 70% chance of surviving it. So, naturally, we said no to the surgery, and naturally the doctors were pissed. They said that she was going to be injured for a long while without it. Then I asked for the cost, being the smart one, and they were sheepish to reply the hugest load of money I've ever heard of. Amelia would never be able to pay that off, and she wouldn't want anyone else paying for it. So we kept with no, and the doctors finally agreed with a sigh of resentment.

Eventually, the doctors realized that she was internally bleeding. Her heart rate dropped within minutes, leaving us with a huge chance of a coma. We stayed at the hospital for a very long time, with no good news, but also no bad news. They had to perform a different surgery on her, to stitch up her organs. That's when they told us the news.

"So we have two pieces of good news," that Dr. Williams guy said to us. I remember his eyes as he said the second part. "And we have three pieces of bad news."

Without even asking us which news we'd like first, he began. "The good news is that Amelia is stabilized, and will be awake soon. And another piece of good news is that very soon after that, she'll be free to leave."

We all sighed in relief. She was going to be fine.

"What's the bad news?" Stupid, pessimist Liam. I wish I hadn't listened.

The same look of pure grimness filled his gray eyes once again as he told us. "There is a very good chance that she will have amnesia. She hit her head very hard first on the car, and then the pavement."

"But she'll get better right?" I sputtered out, my heart racing. He paused, oh God, he paused.

"Maybe. But even if she does, there is a good chance that she'll develop short term memory loss."

"What do you mean a bloody 'chance'? Will she or will she not?" Liam spat out, his arms crossed. I've never seen someone so mad and scared at the same time. But I guess we all looked about that way right now.

"I-I don't know," the doctor said, fiddling with his stupid lab coat, pushing his stupid glasses up his nose. Stupid doctor. "But there's one last piece I haven't said yet, and I'd appreciate if you didn't interrupt or yell, please." His eyes were stern as he stared down Liam. Trust me, I wanted to beat up that doctor as much as he did.

"Amelia's surgery is not very..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Reliable."

"And what the hell does that mean?" I snapped, clenching my fists. I didn't care about his last threat, what was he going to do? Hit me with his stupid clipboard?

"It means that there's a very good chance-" He stopped, correcting himself. "She might go into shock, sometime later on. There's nothing we can do right now. Every time she breaths, laughs, and even moves, the stitches will tear a little more."

"So you're saying you need stronger stitches?" I asked, sounding frustrated. What did he even mean?

"No, I'm saying that she will be back here, and she might not make it through. I'm sorry, but I don't have any other way to explain it. Now I have to go check her vitals." And just like that, he left us there, gob smacked.

Liam was the one to break the silence. "Sh-she's not going to die."

"Liam-" Niall said, reaching out to him. Liam shook his head, waving him away.

"No. She's not going to. They're wrong." He said angrily, then turning around and stalking down the hall to Amelia's room. I started to go after him, to go see Amelia, but Zayn stopped me abruptly.

"Don't. He needs to cool off."

"Well, I need to cool off to, asshole." I muttered, walking out the front doors. I sat down on the porch outside, thoughts swirling like a river through my mind. I closed my eyes, my leg bouncing up and down. I didn't notice when someone tapped my shoulder. My eyes fluttered open when I felt another tap. It was a small girl, her eyes wide. She had pink overalls on and a beanie covering her whole head and ears. Her bright blue eyes peered up into my own.

"Are you alright?" She asked me, her hand now in the pockets of her pink overalls. I took a deep breath, not wanting to snap at this kid. I smiled a little, looking at the clouds above her head.

"I'm not sure." I said, laughing nervously. Why was I laughing, at a time like this?

"Are you like me?" She asked boldly, smiling. She was missing one of her front teeth. I cocked my head, not sure what she meant. She sighed, then proceeded to pull off her beanie. She was completely bald. My heart stopped momentarily. I knew what it was. Cancer.

"No, I'm not." my throat clenched, along with my chest. The poor girl, she couldn't be any older than seven, and already is going through chemo.

"Oh. Well, whatever it may be, I hope you get better!" She said happily, her cap now back on her head.

"It's not me, actually. It's my best friend. She... got in a accident." I explained. "Her head got hit pretty hard."

"Oh. I've met people like that here at the hospital. Don't worry, she'll be fine." Her tiny hand picked mine up and squeezed it. I squeezed back.

"Thank you." I said, smiling.

"I'm Clare, by the way." She said, sticking her hand out.

"Elle." I said, shaking hers. I saw a woman walking towards us, and I took it to be her mother.

"Clare? Oh, no. I'm sorry, miss." She apologized, taking Clare's hand.

"No, it's fine. She is very lovely." I smiled, standing. "She really helped me."

I went back inside with a totally different mood. Amelia would be fine. She could do this, just like Clare was pushing so valiantly through her own battle. And I could defeat my own battle too.

 

The worst thing about the whole memory was that Amelia didn't know a thing about her surgery. She didn't know that she was slowly dying with every breath she took.

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