The doctor decides to keep me in the hospital for over a week. It’s quite torturous really, being spoon fed jello and watching the same reruns on television over and over again. But I don’t complain. I’m just happy I have a place to stay. I haven’t really talked with anyone about what happens after I’m discharged. I certainly can’t go running home to Sam and returning to the states is out of the question. The doc says I can go home tomorrow morning. I’m ecstatic to be disconnected from all these wires. I can’t wait to get out of this gown that flashes my ass everywhere. The problem is I have no home to go to, the unsettling, yet relevant truth.

Harry comes sneaking back into the room. The grin across his face is one for the books. He looks like he just stole loads of booze and drugs for a party, not two root beers from the cafeteria.

“Thank god,” I mumble, gracious for the caffeine. He stands, his arms out stretched in front of me. I gulp my soda and stare blindly at his gesture. “What?” I finally say.

“Aren’t you going to thank me for the contraband?”

“Thank you,” I say dramatically, “you’re too good to me.” I roll my eyes sarcastically, not wanting Harry to think I was being serious. He had been too good to me, coming to visit every day since I’d been in here. Stealing me food and drinks. When I’d told him I hadn’t been sleeping good at night, he let me borrow his iPod, telling me music always helped him sleep.

I hadn’t given it back yet. One of my favorite things to do lately was scroll through his playlists, see what he was into. It helped keep my mind off the inevitable elephant in the room I was constantly ignoring.

A few people had come in my room to talk. One was a reoccurring counselor, but every time she came in I pretended to be asleep. Another was a priest, offering condolences and asking if I wanted to ‘pray’. As if that over everything else, would make me feel alive again. I had shrugged, telling him that probably wasn’t appropriate considering I didn’t believe in God.

He seemed flustered. Like most people were when I told them I was an atheist. As if it was one of the worst things a person could be. He apologized, backing out of the room.

The last two years of my life were a blur. And the night I came into the hospital kept being pushed into the back of my mind. Harry being here all the time gave me an excuse to avoid thinking about Sam.

He pulled his chair closer to my bed, leaning back and cracking open his soda. We’d become friends in the last few days. Him visiting the most. Liam came by often along with Louis and Niall. I liked the lads. They were genuine. But I’d become a lot closer with Harry. He’d do stuff like steal me soda and bring scrabble into the hospital. He read me some lyrics he’d been working on for a new song. Him and the boys were apparently in a band. I listened, wholeheartedly, gave him feedback, he promised he’d play it for me when it was all wrapped up.

Today he was telling me about a dinner he had to go to with family.

“I’m really dreading it,” he explained, “I know Gemma is too, I mean if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be going, honestly. I can’t stand the man.”

Harry was referring to his father, who apparently hadn’t been in the picture much throughout his life. In an effort to reconcile, his dad had invited Harry and his sister out for a dinner. I listened, my hand resting across my stomach.

“Maybe Gem’ll bail,” he mutters, “then I definitely wouldn’t have to go.”

Harry started opening up to me about his family issues a few days ago. I was surprised when the topic of his parents’ divorce came up. I started to feel guilty as he shared more and more intimate details with me, and I stayed closed. I didn’t talk about Sam or my parents. I just listened as Harry would tell me more and more about him.

“Maybe it'll be okay,” I suggest, taking another swig of my root beer. “You never know.”

“I know my dad though,” he says through gritted teeth.

“If it’s that bad when you get there, text me,” I suggest. “Like a code or something, and I’ll call pretending to be all damsel in distress. Then you can leave.”

He smiles, “An evil plan that just might work,” he jokes.

I’m genuinely sad when Harry stands up to leave. He waves me goodnight, and I’m left alone with an empty root beer bottle and my thoughts racing.

I hated the silence. I hated not hearing Harry’s voice ring through the air. Because when Harry’s voice didn’t fill the air, Sam’s did. I heard his drunken slurs being yelled at me, calling me worthless and pathetic. I hated the fact that every time I closed my eyes, Sam was there. It made it hard to sleep, even with Harry’s soft playlist playing in my ears. I laid on my back for over an hour, staring up at the blank ceiling, finally rehashing the events from last week. I ran my fingers over my bruised wrist, rubbed the still- slightly swollen lump emerging from my jaw.

I faintly noticed the steady beeping of my heart rate monitor to increase. Images of Sam pinning me up against the wall, eyes full of anger and hatred staring at me filled my mind. I couldn’t get the constant smell of alcohol radiating off his skin, out of my mind. I tossed and turned, trying desperately to fall asleep so the thoughts would go away, but I couldn’t.

Suddenly, I started to think about what he’d do if he ever found me. I remember accidentally breaking that dish the a couple of weeks ago, along with the harsh beating I received with it. If I got that hurt for a dish, imagine what he’d do to me for running away. A silent sob escapes my lips as I acknowledge the reality that Sam could easily find me. And before I know it, I’m crying in my bed, wrapped up in the sheets, clutching at my pillow for life. Everything comes flooding back, and the pain feels fresh on my skin, as if remembering every insult he’s ever thrown at me is a new cut finally surfacing.

I don’t think much before grabbing my phone off the bedside table. I dial Harry, holding my hand over my mouth to help subside the sobs. He answers after a few rings.

“Isabelle?” he says into the line, “I didn’t send the code word. It’s actually going alright, you know?”

I’m confused at first before remembering our stupid conversation earlier. I still don’t speak. Just hearing him talk through the line relaxes me slightly.

Harry notices me not speaking, his voice grows with worry, “Isabelle, what’s wrong?”

Against my will, a loud sigh escapes my lips, followed by another light sob. My hands move up over my eyes as I breathe into the phone, “I can’t stop thinking about things and I just want to sleep. All I want to do is sleep.”

I hear Harry break away from the phone and speak to someone other than me, “I’m so sorry everyone, I’ve got to go.”

“Harry-“ I say, feeling glad, but more guilty. I cry, my voice breaks, “Harry, please I don’t want you to leave your family, stop.”

“Too late,” he murmurs into the line. “I’ll be there soon, hang tight.”

It’s been fifteen minutes. By now, Harry’s headphones are pressed so tightly into my ear and I’m covering them up, trying to make the screaming stop inside of me. His music blared in my head, but Sam’s yells were louder. I had my knees tucked up and my hair was falling in my face. I can only imagine what a mess I looked like to Harry as he came rushing into the room.

I didn’t hear him at first. Everything was too loud. But a glimpse of his movement, made my head snap up, and the tears started to fall harder.

I was embarrassed, crying in front of a boy I hardly knew like this. But I couldn’t seem to hold myself together. Sam would’ve hit me. Told me to grow up and stop being so emotional. I pull the headphones out and whimper, “I’m so sorry- your dinner, I made you miss your dinner.”

Harry didn’t hesitate to slide into bed beside me. I scooted over in response, but he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me gently into his chest. Without a second thought, I rested my head on his chest and continued to cry. “He hit me,” I sighed. “Over and over-“

“I know,” Harry whispered.

He held me like that, brushing his fingers through my hair and whispering soothing words. His fingers started tracing a line down my arm and I barely even noticed that my head had finally grown quiet. My eyes were heavy from all the crying, and eventually I gave over to their temptation, falling asleep on Harry like a small child, wrapped in his embrace, my entire being soothed by his presence.

Notes