"a girl once told me to be
careful when trying to fix a broken
person. for you may
cut yourself on one of their pieces."
To say it hurts would be the biggest understatement of the year.
Come to think of it.
My stomach doesn't feel to good either.
Getting up just a bit to fast my eyes black out as I'm running to the bathroom.
Trying my best not to puke my guts out before I get to the toilet I run a bit faster.
Making it just in time I hear someone call out my name.
Who in the heck is in my house?
Wait- why am I in my house?
Last I remember I was being wheeled into the hospital because, well.
Harry rushes into the room, only to find me puking my guts out for the second time. I quickly wave him away not wanting him to witness this.
"I'll just wait outside..." he says looking kind of sick himself.
I flush the toilet and lean my head back against the bathtub not even wanting to think of how embarrassing that was.
There's a knock on the door and Harry peeks his head in.
Seeing I'm not gagging out my internal organs he comes inside.
Handing me a glass of water he sits down next to me on the cold tile.
He looks over at me and studies me for a minute or two, like he's trying to read me.
"Are you okay..?"
I look over at him, knowing he's not just talking about the scene that barely happened.
Was I okay?
Was he concerned?
Answering him honestly,
"No. I'm not okay."
apologizing for the length.