The event changed everything, but a story can’t have a central theme unless there are walls to support it, roads that take you there and on, because I can’t just give you a fact and you understand it fully until I explain it. So here it is; I love Harry Styles, but the roads that I take you on to understand may not be one’s that you really want to travel, so heed the signs on the barren roadsides, and understand. I’ll tell you about the days, thirty before and thirty after, encompassing Harry’s attempted suicide.


44. 6 days after

6 Days After:

The boys have left me by myself to get food. My phone says it's early in the morning, but I don't care. I wonder what Harry talked to them about. What he told his mother. I have every intention to stay in the tent until we are allowed another visit, and even then I don't think I want to go, but then again, I know I'm being selfish. Harry had been on his back, eyes glazed and blank, his body filled with an overdose of his sleeping pills, and I was scared that I would blink and see him like that again. The specialist had left me the note, had basically placed Harry in my care, and I had thought nothing of it. Because why would anyone try to commit suicide after such an occasion? "Harry would," I mumble, answering my own question. I don't understand his reasoning entirely, and I want to ask him about it, why he would think that he was a burden to me, but I just don't know what to do anymore. What could have easily been anywhere from five minutes to an hour later, the front of the tent unzips slowly, and I sit up. "About time," I say, and my stomach growls in agreement. None of us have been eating much, and it has certainly caught up to us. However, it is not one of the lads that poke their heads through, but a little girl, her wide blue eyes blinking owlishly at me. "I like your fort," she says, looking around. "My mommy never lets me get mine this messy though." Laughing, I reach out a hand for her to shake. "I'm Louis. What's your name?" Blinking rapidly, she pulls her head back and huffs. "I'm not supposed to speak to strangers." A millisecond of hesitation. "My name is Amy Lee. But I like Lee better than Amy." "Do you?" I ask, and I am smiling, I can feel the muscles working on my face in a way they haven't in six days. "I like them both the same." Crawling out, I join her in the official waiting room, where crayons are scattered on the floor, like she was coloring but had noticed the enormous tent and had gotten curious. "You can't like both the same," she accuses, placing her small hands on her hips. "You like one better and that's that." Nodding, I look around the room and find it empty. "Where are your parents?" "I don't have parents. Just a mommy. She's talking to the tall man about stuff." She sticks her arms out and begins to spin in circles. "I've been here for soooo long!" she exclaims, and I catch a glimpse of her hospital bracelet for the first time. "I want to go home but Mommy won't let me. She says I have to get better. So I visit with the other kids and read the stories. I can read on a fourth grade reading level even though I'm only eight!" One topic to the next without any invitation for conversation; she doesn't waste time waiting for people's opinions and I instantly like her for it. "And what grade are you in?" I ask her, genuinely interested. "Second. But I'm smart. Mommy says I'm the smartest kid she has ever known, and she is a teacher!" She tries to stop and raise her chin in pride, but instead she is thrown off balance, and falls to the floor, giggling. Something about her seems very small on the hospital floor, so I join her, lying on my stomach and placing my chin in my hands. "Are you sick, too?" she asks. "No, but my very special friend is." I stumble over the word 'friend'. Me and Harry kind of skipped over that fence from the beginning. Then, her childish face lights up with realization. "You know Harry! I've wanted to meet his Louis since yesterday, but he said it wasn't a good idea. I'm going to keep this our secret, but just for now." Jumping up, she ruffles my hair and scampers away, towards the elevator where a young nurse says, "Do you remember the floor for the child's wing, Amy?" "Amy Lee," the little girl corrects cheerfully. "And of course I know! I even know how to multiply." I don't know if she does or not, but I do know I like her and that I am grinning foolishly as the front doors slid open and Liam walks in carrying drinks. Niall and Zayn have a giant bag a piece. "What are you so happy about?" Zayn asks curiously, and I intend to answer him but I really don't know.

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