The Island Girl (Harry Styles)

Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Rosalie's POV 

A pale room was built around me, no inch of actual color whatsoever.  It seemed so dead in this place, like the building didn't deserve no emotions or happiness.  The reason why it seemed so dead was because the walls were white.  The bed was white, bed sheets -- everything.  You'd think black would be more of a color that defined death, though.  If it was, you wouldn't see.  Therefore, you have no eligibility to think.  You'd be dead.  That's that.

I sighed, gripping my hands on the uncomfortable bed sheets that were spread over my small body. My head was resting on a flat pillow, whereas the rest of my body was laid down on a hard mattress.  This place was so confusing.  It's supposed to help people, not give them back pains.  Wait...this was a hospital...right?  If it was, I need to know why I am here.

Small images of last night had flashed in my mind, making me remember the drastic memory.  I remember running away from the party, and tripping down the stairs.  I remember being abandoned by Megan.  Then there's me also being a coward of asking for help, not wanting to go back inside to help aid my leg.  What a stupid girl I am.  If I hadn't been scared and run out, I wouldn't have ended up in this sadistic building.

There was one part about last night that didn't make me regret, and feel bad for hurting myself.  Harry had found me, and ran me here.  Before that, though, we had kissed.  It was our second time doing it, feeling much like the first.  The only part about it was that there was no tension like before.  No girlfriend to cheat on.  There was no one to think about or bother about.  It was perfect.

Smiling to myself, I replayed the wonderful moment in my head over and over again.  Every time that happens, I want it to happen again.  Constantly, and forever.

The sound of the door knob rattling knocked me out of my thoughts.  A man in some sort of lab coat walked in, a clipboard and pen in his hands.  When he walked in, he was grinning.  From that thought of the doctor looking excited, I take it there was good news.  Maybe for me.

"Everything is looking great for you Kayla.  Despite the fact that you've spent your life on an island, you surprisingly have no diseases or any sickness whatsoever.  Though, from the accident last night, you have acquired a big amount of blood loss and a broken leg." He said, nodding at his clipboard as if he was having a conversation with himself, not me.

"My name's Rosalie, not Kayla." I said weakly, gritting my teeth.

"Ah, on the contrary Ms. Sullivan.  Your birth certificate states your real name and everything.  Therefore, you are legally named Kayla Elle Sullivan.  Born on February 16, 1995 in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  Daughter of Andrew Sullivan, and Emma Andrews.  Like I said, everything is stated here." The doctor waved the certificate around with a smile.

"How'd you get my birth certificate?" I asked.

"This is the hospital, Ms. Sullivan.  A hospital has every document and birth certificate of every human born.  Whether they're dead or not, we still keep them.  You want to know how I got it?  I'm a doctor, I have access to pretty much everything in this very building."

"Oh...okay." I said, looking down.  Sighing, I weakly and slowly moved my hand to tuck the annoying strands of hair that was hovering over my face behind my ear.  After I did that, I continue to look down.  Fiddling my fingers, I waited for more information about my current health and state.

"You're moving pretty slow.  Miss, you're quite fragile also from lack of food.  Though, I am quite surprised how much muscle you have on you, you're quite tiny."  The doctor chuckled.  "You will get better within a few days, to be stronger than you are currently.  Because of the large amount of blood loss from the cut from your leg, we had to put some blood in you.  We stitched your leg up, also.  Don't worry about pulling them out, they'll dissolve by themselves within a few weeks.  As for your broken leg, that will heal within a month.  Luckily, the bone didn't shatter or crack horribly."