At the moment, time seemed to lump together. I couldn't tell if it had been seconds, minutes, hour, days, or months. It just felt like one, giant, timeless, black space. I can't even remember what I did the entire time I was there.
When my eyes fluttered open, I saw a smudge of what was supposed to be a room. It took a while for my eyes to fix themselves. Soon after, my head hurt. A gang of thugs back had to be kicking my skull in, because that's what it felt like. The only thing that hurt worse than that was my entire body. My left arm was wrapped in a thing, white, heavy cast, as was my torso, and right leg. My body trembled and throbbed with this immense ache. It was like a giant bruise, still, that wouldn't go away. It continued to pulse with pain.
Water dripped from my eyes, stinging the open cuts on my face. It just made me cry more.
A nurse saw my pain and began inject some sort of pain killer into my IV. It took the drug a while to kick in, but soon my body became numb again.

"Good afternoon," she said sweetly. I turned my head to face her, but my felt stiff. It felt stuck in one position and if I moved it, it would break, like a cog was jammed in a machine.
I caught a glimpse of her though. She looked motherly, or what a mother should look like. Her hair was brunette, hanging just below her earlobe. She didn't wear much make up, besides some eyeliner, and mascara. Her skin was tan; she could've been Italian. She had creases around her nostrils, indicating laugh lines.
She wore pale pink scrubs, with flowery, pink pens in the pens pocket. She was definitely a mother or caretaker. I knew that just from that quick glimpse.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asked tenderly.
"My head hurts," I wheezed out. My voice came out harsh and low. My throat felt scratched, rough, and burned as I tried to speak.
"Yeah, you're going to have a headache for a little while," she told me, "Do you know why your here?"
I tried to remember anything before waking up. I remembered leaving the Good Morning building with Harry, walking to the cafe with Harry, and then talking with Harry. That was all I could manage at the moment.
"No," I answered after giving it some thought.
"There was an accident. A car crashed through the restaurant you were in. You broke a few bones, your arm, leg, and a couple of ribs. No serious head injury. You have a few stitches on your collar bone," she explained. As she pointed on out my obvious injuries, I thought of Harry.
"Where's Harry?" I spat out, interrupting her accidently.
"A couple of rooms down the hall," she answered. Before she put the subject back on me, I shot questions at her like rapid fire.
"Is he okay?" I asked, "Can I see him?"
"Calm down," she told me, "You'll stress your body out. He's fine. He has fewer injuries than you, nothing severe. He's visited you a few times during your stay,”
"How long have I been here?"
"About three days. You'll be here a while longer. Harry will be able to leave sooner than you, given he only has a broken arm and a few scratches," she explained.

A worlds worth of worry was lifted from my fragile body. I could breathe normally again as my stress was relieved.
Although, I was a little bit upset at the fact he was in the hospital in the first place. Granted, it would've been a hundred times worse, but, I was still upset. He was hurt and I was stuck in a hospital bed for weeks. I'm lucky to be alive, but it was still bad.
I wanted to get up and go to him, see if he was really okay, but my injuries prevented me from moving. I felt so useless. I had been reduced to a stump, stuck in one place for what felt like forever.
I sighed heavily as my nurse checked my IVs. She left me, with a heartfelt smile. Then I was alone in my room, with my thoughts.
I wondered if the band had visited me. Did they even bother? My mind escaped me for a moment as I thought of my four boys. Dennis had to have popped in once or twice, Kyle wouldn't come unless he was dragged by his hair, and Connor and Dakota, had to see me at least once.
I sighed once more, trying to find something to keep my mind busy. I couldn't move my neck, so my view of outside was pointless. I didn't have my notebooks, so I couldn't write about anything. I couldn't get into a comfortable position, so sleeping wasn't an option.
My only hope was for a visitor, they didn't show for about two hours. I suppose the doctor or someone called them to tell them I was awake. Still, their timing was a bit off.

The four boys walked in slowly, each of them looking away from me. They surrounded my bed, still looking at the ground. No one really knew what to say, so I had to speak first.

"Hi," I said with my scratchy voice. Dakota looked up with a grimace.
"Your voice...” he said sadly. I tried to cough in order to fix it, but it didn't work.
"I'm fine," I obviously lied. Then they all looked with the same expression at Dakota, besides Kyle of course. He had moved to the couch in the back of the room.
I could see him sitting, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, biting his inner cheek, and trying not to lash out.
All of the worry I had exorcized from my body had flooded back. I wanted to apologize to Kyle for the way I treated him, but he wouldn't listen to me even if I screamed with my hoarse voice.

Dennis reached over and moved some of my hair out of my face, exposing a few stitches. He winced at the sight of them.
"Jesus, you're all busted up," he sighed, just staring at my wounds. He seemed surprised, like he hadn't seen me like this before.
"Is this your first time seeing me here" I asked, my harsh voice rising slightly.
They each looked at each other for words before darting their eyes back to the tiled hospital floor.
I deeply inhale to try and calm myself down, biting my tongue, and waited for their response. There wasn't one, though. I felt disheartened. My chest tightened around my aching heart.

"Guys..." I muttered in a disappointed tone.
"Why would they visit you?" Kyle interrupted, jumping from his spot, "You looked like you were dying, and they were scared. Why would they want to come and see you?" he asked again.
"Kyle, don't," Dennis said calmly, attempting to quail the tension.
"Not here," Dakota added.
"No, she's being stupid. She's going to get all upset about this like she did with me and lash out on you guys, for no damn reason!" he began to shout.
"Dude, stop. Sadie's hurt and doesn't need this right now," Dennis said in defense.
"Don't stick up for her! Ten minutes ago you were saying how annoying she is!" Kyle yelled. Dennis placed his hand on my shoulder to comfort me; he squeezed a bit at Kyle's words.
"He never said that, Kyle!" Connor said, raising his voice. I was surprised just to here Connor speak, let alone yell.
"Shut up, Connor, you're smarter when you're mute," Kyle snapped. I watched as Connor dropped all the confidence he had to muster to speak and crawl back into his shell. I tried to reach up to comfort him, but my shoulder began to ache.
"Don't say that shit to Connor," Dakota snapped back, taking a step forward towards Kyle, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Kyle didn't respond. He just stomped out of the room like a two year old throwing a tantrum. He slammed the door behind him. I could still hear his boots clashing against the floor as he stomped away. Dakota looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes, and sighing, "God damnit," under his breath.
"I'll be back," he said before walking out of my room to chase after our drummer.

A subtle tear rolled down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away with my free hand. I didn't want Kyle to get to me, but the fact that he said my best friend found me annoying, it struck a chord.

"You know I wouldn't say that right?" Dennis asked in a disheartened voice. I nodded, placing a fake smile on my face.
"Are you okay, Connor?" I asked, trying to change the subject. The shy boy nodded, making it obvious that inside he was hurt. People forget how sensitive Connor really is. He can't handle certain things like most people can. He's quiet and timid. He has a lot of will, but not enough confidence to speak out or do anything extraordinary. He could easily create masterpieces with music, art, or anything he chose, but he's so afraid of rejection. His fear cripples him.
"You can talk to me if you want to," I reassured him. He just looked at me with puppy dog eyes, fidgeting with him thumbs. I knew I wasn't getting anywhere with him, so I quit. He'd talk to me once he rebuilt his confidence.

Dennis and Connor stayed until Dakota came back about a half hour later. Kyle had settled down, but wouldn't come off the bus. They all decided that it was enough for one day and left, giving me hugs and their love. They promised to visit again, next time without Kyle. Once the door shut, my depression carried on. It hung over my head like a gray cloud, slowly coming down to Earth. It began a thick fog of depression. I felt worse than before. The fog made it hard to breathe as tears fell from my eyes. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. I kept trying to sigh to stop myself from hyperventilating or sobbing, but I was just breathing in that harsh sadness.
What was I crying for? Half of it was the pain that drugs could only barely keep back; the other half was the fear that the closest people to me hated me. My paranoia was amplified when I was alone. I wasn't sure how to keep it down or to think rationally.
They hate me, I thought. Why think anything different? That's why they wouldn't visit me. They don't care. They just didn't want to make it look suspicious. My mind continued to race as the fog grew thicker and thicker. It was practically pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe.
I wanted to roll over and just sob into the lumpy hospital pillow, but my damn injuries. I had to lie on my back and allow the warm tears to run down the side of my face and into my ears. It was even more uncomfortable than the hard bed.
I gritted my tear, forcing back the tears, just to keep them from falling into my ears.

Then the door opened abruptly. It startled me and made me jump, which caused my ribs to pulse with a sharp pain.
Harry came running into my room with his right arm in a pasty blue sling. His face gave mixed signals. He appeared to be excited, but terrified and worried.
He stopped at the side of my bed and began apologizing over and over again.

"Sadie, I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'm sorry, please forgive me. I'm so sorry. Oh god, I'm sorry," he said as I watched tears well up in his dazzling green eyes. They made them sparkle brighter than they usually do. It was beautiful, though it hurt me to see him like this.
Before I could respond, he looked at me with a more upsetting expression.
"You've crying," he whispered as he touched my cheek with his left hand. He rubbed my tear stained cheek with his thumb. "Don't cry," he begged, "I was supposed to make you feel better,"
His lip began to quiver as he spoke. I felt like he was saying that to himself rather than to me.
"I do feel better," I whispered to him. As he continued to rub my cheek, I felt the lingering fog disperse.
I gave him a slight smile, hoping it would help him sadness.

A small tear escaped his eye, but he wiped it away with his arm. He tried to hide his guilt using his uninjured arm, but I could hear his faint sobbing.
"Harry," I muttered. He rested his head in his arm, still attempting to disguise his tears.
I pet his hair, running my fingers through his knotted curls. I wasn't sure what to say. I only hoped that comforting him was enough.
"I was supposed to project you," he muttered between his sobs, "I tried so hard. Why am I okay?" he continued.
"You did fine," I tried to reassure him.
"No!" he snapped as he popped his back up. He stood up, examining me. "You look broken. I can leave in a few days with a broken arm and a few cuts. Look at you; you can barely move your neck let alone anything else. Because I couldn't do anything to protect you, you've been reduced to a half-broken body inside of a giant cast. It's all my fault, Sadie! I just wanted to take you out, make you smile, and maybe make your day a bit better. You're in the hospital! You were hit by a car!" he yelled.
I couldn't find words to reply. I couldn't even look straight at him.
"I tried. I threw myself over you, hoping I would, I don't know, do something. God, I can't even do that right," he began crying again. His tears wouldn't stop.
"You're not a superhero, Harry," I finally replied, "You did your best. You could've saved me for all you know. I'm not paralyzed or even worse - dead. My bones will heal, stitches scar over, and I'll go home soon enough,"
He just looked at me with tearing eyes, trying to keep calm, and not break down. His chest heaved up and down as his breathe became deep and heavy.
"Come here," I told him, opening my one arm for a hug.
Without a sound, he kneeled down, and rested his head his my arm. His face was buried into my shoulder.
"I'm just sorry," he said quietly.
"Don't be. You did nothing wrong," I said as I stroked his hair.

We stayed like that for a while, until the room darkened due to the sun falling to the moon. He even fell asleep there. I watched his eyes slowly closed as he calmed down. He had these quiet snores that were really cute. They were normal, loud, obnoxious snores, but small and barely noticeable. It made me smile to watch him sleep. He looks very peaceful.
For those moments, I forgot about the pain my body was in. It was mind over matter, I suppose. I use laid there, stroking his hair, about to fall asleep myself if it wasn't for my nurse. She walked in, waking Harry up. She told him that he had to go back to his room.
He rubbed his eyes and nodded. Before leaving, he looked down at me, and gave him signature smirk.

After that encounter with Harry, I no longer saw him as "Harry Styles from One Direction". I just saw him as Harry, a kind and gentle man who cares too much for others and not enough for himself. I saw him as a sweet person; a real person. He wasn't a celebrity anymore, he was human. He was that boy from that English town whose name escapes me. I could picture him walking down a paved side walk, in a small British village, talking to neighbors, and enjoying a normal life. It was strange to see him backstage of popular talk shows or at music award shows. It didn't seem like him at all.
It made him more beautiful.