Fucked up (1D)

The 17 year old Mary Jane Moore, lives a normal life - until on her 17th birthday, where her loving parents tragically dies in a car accident. The young man behind the opposing car survives - but he is no ordinary boy. What will happen when Mary Jane is forced to meet the "killer" of her parents? And what will happen to her after her parents death?


30. Hospital

"This is Kylie's cell, please leave a message." I pressed the red button, not wanting to leave yet ANOTHER message on her cell phone, pleading for forgiveness. The previous messages had went from being Angry, to mellow, to actually breaking down over the phone. Now, I was over leaving messages. I put down my phone, and tip-toed back into bed, careful not to wake up Harry - he looked so peaceful when he slept, it mad me smile and almost tear up. How could someone who'd inflicted so much pain on me, end up as the one mending it all the same.  I smiled, as I lifted up the duvets, diving back into bed with him snuggling up to his chest, feeling his breathing in my hair. I felt his arm around me, as I fell asleep.

"This is Kylie's cell, please leave a message." Another answering machine. I pressed the red button again, tiptoing back into bed, trying no to wake Harry. For the second night in a row, I' tried to call her up, but she wasn't picking up the phone. I tiptoed back to bed, seeing Harry, his chest rising and falling, his curly locks everywhere. I sat down, and looked at him for a while, not sure if I wanted to lie back down. I decided, and put my head on the pillow, and swung my feet and legs up onto the bed, relaxing in my whole body. Harry put his arm around me and I felt him smile.

"Beep, beep, beep." Not even a voicemail. I pressed the red button again, creeping back into bed, and snuggling up to Harry, the tears slowly streaming down my face. I had a hole in my chest, indescribable. If Kylie wouldn't talk to me, I had no family left. None at all. I tried my very best to stop crying, but it was impossible. The tears went straight on to Harry's bare chest, which made me get up and leave the room not to wake him up. I almost ran out the room, as I carefully slipped out into the big living room, heading straight for the bottle of Vodka I'd saved on top of the cabinets hanging on the walls. I crawled up onto the countertop, careful not to trip and fall on my face, waking up Harry. Then I stood up, and reached for the bottle, slipping a bit, trying to bend my back in an unnatural way. I finally gained balance, as my fingertips brushed the bottle, and pulled it towards me, causing my body to get out of balance, hitting the floor, my head brushing corner of the kitchen island. The bottle fell with me, landing dangerously close to my head, breaking into a thousand pieces, the liquid splasing everywhere, including my face, neck, body and hair, making a loud crash, as it broke.

"Jane?" Harry asked, worried, but sleepy at the same time.

"JANE?!" He yelled, worried that I hadn't said a word yet.

"JANE DOE, WHERE ARE YOU?!" He yelled, bursting into the kitchen, his face in terror as he saw me lying on the floor.

"Oh my lord, what happened?" he asked, worried, as he rushed to my side, careful not to step on a shard of glass. I opened my eyes a bit, looking him in the eyes.

"You're bleeding." He said, his eyes wide. I put my hand to my head, feeling the warm red substance dripping down my forehead, down my cheeks, and neck.

"We have to get you to a hospital." He said, putting one arm underneath my knees, and one around my shoulders, carefully lifting me up. He went into the bathroom, and turned on the lights, blinding me with the sharpness. He closed the toilet seat, and sat me down on top, sitting down in front of me, looking at my wound.

"I'll get you a coat, and put on some clothes myself, and then we're off to the hospital, okay?" I could sense he was trying not to panic too much. I nodded, as I looked down myself. I was only wearing a pair of shorts and a small tank, but it was all covered in blood. I heard his voice speaking to someone, and then he came back, with an old coat in a red color.

"No.." I tried to say, my head spinning.

"This was my moms..." I whispered. He understood, and went back into my room, finding another coat, this time an old black fleece-jacket. He'd put on a pair of sweats, and a t-shirt.

"Let's go." He picked me up again, and walked out the bathroom, into the living room, and walked straight over to the front-door, letting us into the cold fall-air.

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