Survivors

"Oh shit," I mutter as I sit up. I lean up against the back of the bed...wait a bed? And it's a hospitable bed. Then everything comes flooding back. Every last detail. I grab the sides of the hospitable bed for support. I slowly sink back down, suddenly feeling the need to have support on my back. I slowly reel my heavy breathing back in and work up the courage to pull back the cover that conceal my legs. I take a deep breath and pull, gasping at the sight of my legs. They are bandaged in thick, gauze like bandages. I try moving one and almost immediately yelp in pain. The pain is overpowering. I sink back down. I stay there breathing heavily for a few minutes before I spot the clipboard on the table beside the bed. I reach out, only using my arm and hand, gabbing it. The paper on the top is an information sheet recording a surgery. A surgery for me. It even had a billing address on it, and it was not mine. The billing address was for someone in England. England? But I live in Los Angeles. Then I see the bill. Shit, that was a huge bill. I would never be able to afford that. Then my brain just automatically told me, you need to find out who is paying for this. One way or another. I quickly buzz for a nurse. A petite nurse walks in a moment later and says, "I'm glad that you are awake." I nod, but instead of asking who this person is, I ask, "How long was I out." The nurse sighs and responds by saying, "You were out for four days." I raise my eyebrows at her. "When did I have my surgery," I say as I motion to my legs. " You got the surgery the second day you were here,"the nurse informs me. "And who the hell is going to paying for it? Because I really don't want a stranger off the streets paying for it," I state in a matter-of-factly tone. "He was in the car that hit you, the only survivor of the crash," she finishes. I lean back in the bed, still trying to wrap my head around this whole scenario. "His name isHarry Styles," the nurse says quietly. At this remark, I shoot out if the bed, screaming in pain as my legs take on the feeling of a fire slowly burning you. "Harry fucking who," I shout. The nurse stands there uncomfortably but finally responding, " Harry Styles, the One Direction star. His car was being chased by paparazzi and when the driver turned the corner they went skidding into the street lamp, which you happened to unfortunately be standing under. My breath starts to speed up, again. This is too much, all to much. My life was perfect four days ago, now everything is complicating. Everything. "Thank you," I murmur quietly to the nurse, dismissing her. She nods and quickly exits the room, probably glad to escape. I wait for about an hour before buzzing the nurse again. This time a plump red headed woman with a nice smile appears in the doorway. I give her a slight smile before asking, "Can you please see if Harry Styles is well enough to walk and if so I would like to see him," I finish. She nods once in understanding and leaves the room. I expect her to come back with and answer, but instead my answer and financial hero comes walking through the door.

Notes

This is my second attempt at a fanfic, and the other fanfic only has one chapter! So please review, I want feedback! And if you like it, rate comment and subscribe! Thanks!