Psycho ➳ H.S.

Chapter 19

Check out our Video FAQ! It's on the media section :)

NOTE: this chapter contains themes that may trigger people who have experienced death in their life. Please read at your own discretion- sorry for the minor spoiler!

Carissa awoke to the faint string of steady beats from the heart monitor that created a separation between things that were real and things that almost were. She was very much alive, though she wasn't sure if she wanted to be.

The night was still at large, but Lucas was no longer in her room- no one was.

Her throat stung and wasn't able to understand why. Her tongue tasted of metal, and a massive migraine erupted in her head. She felt horribly disoriented, but tried hard to remember exactly what happened.

Her line of vision darted to her leg, which was still in the sling. Her hospital gown had been changed from blue to a light pink- who had changed her out of her clothes? Had Lucas?

Carissa felt odd, as if something wasn't right. She looked around again and saw nothing that could indicate anything out of the ordinary.

The doorknob turned and Carissa's head snapped in its direction- she feared it would be Lucas again. Thoughts flooded her head as all of her consciousness converged together. The door opened slowly, and a familiar face emerged out of the dark hallway.

"Constable Rogers?"

He smiled weakly and took off his hat, holding it to his chest as he flicked on the light. Dark circles resided under his eyes and he muffled a yawn with his arm.

"Evening, Miss Lim," he greeted, "Are you well?"

She nodded, a little unsure why he was there to begin with.

"I'm sorry about your leg," he said, pointing at it, "but the doctors said that they'll get you up and walking in no time."

Curious, she raised an eyebrow. Why was he being so chatty? Wasn't his job just to inform her of what was going on?

"I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"

He pressed his lips into a line and exhaled, rubbing his eyes. He paced over to the chair and sat down in it, taking off his Kevlar vest and loosening his tie slightly. His hesitance signalled a warning to Carissa- she knew something was definitely wrong. Constable Rogers cleared his throat, relaxed his muscles, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together.

"Carissa, Mr. McCoy was found dead in the hallway about four hours ago."

Dead. Dead. The word rang in her ears like a rogue train that struck her at all angles. Still, she felt guilty for not feeling as upset as she should've been.

"We also know who killed him."

Millions of thoughts ran through her head. He had been killed by somebody that clearly knew what they were doing because nobody knew of the crimes Lucas had committed. Nobody...unless Harry and Lucas had bumped into each other while Lucas was leaving. Though Harry wasn't aware of what Lucas had done, she was certain that Lucas' death was linked to him. She remembered Harry had taken off his jacket and left it on the chair, so her eyes started searching for it.

"Where's Harry-?" she asked in a panic, sitting up and looking harder still.

"Miss Lim...we know Harry killed him-"

"Please, just listen to me," she said hurriedly in fear that he would not listen to her plea, "Harry was innocent! He didn't do any of it- all the murders were-"

"Performed by Mr. McCoy. We know."

Carissa was beyond confused- how did they know? What had happened? Where was Harry?

"Miss Lim," he began, exhaling slowly and avoiding her gaze, "Harry was injected with an experimental anesthesia that hasn't been approved for testing yet by Mr. McCoy. He's currently on life support-"

"Wh-what? What do you mean? Is he okay?"

"We caught everything on tape. Mr. McCoy had been listening in on your conversation with Harry, and once he left, Mr. McCoy killed a doctor that tried to stop him and used chloroform to knock you out. I assume you have a sore throat or a metallic taste in your mouth? It's common of people who have had chloroform."

Carissa nodded and listened still.

"He came back to retrieve his jacket, we assume, and called the police when he realized McCoy was a threat to you. He left the phone on while Mr. McCoy verbally admitted to his crimes. They fought each other, taking themselves out into the hall. McCoy then attacked Harry with a syringe filled with the anesthesia. Harry killed Mr. Mc- he killed Lucas by jerking his hand away from the chokehold he had him in, slicing through Lucas' trachea with a scalpel that Harry found on the cart that held the drug tests and needles.

"The anesthesia utilizes select viruses and pathogens to sedate the nervous system of the body. It acts upon the receptors of the brain and slows down the messages being sent, putting the body in a sleep-like state. It works as long as the virus is active, and wears off once the immune system produces anti-bodies to fight it off. However, because they all haven't been tested, it is likely that the drug will overtake the host body."

Carissa knew enough biology to know what he meant.

"Is...is he going to die?" she asked softly. She could feel her vocal chords tremble- she wasn't sure why she asked a question she didn't want to know the answer to. Constable Rogers scratched the back of his neck and tried to find a suitable answer to offer her- one that would ease her mind- but none could be found.

"Miss Lim, you have to understand that they're doing everything they can to help him. They've administered medicine to help stop the spread-"

"Is he going to die-?"

"-and they're watching over him very closely to ensure-"

"I said, is he going to die?" Carissa interjected harshly, fighting her tears back. Her brain was forcing her to ask the question she knew her heart couldn't handle.

"In about two weeks, yes," Constable Rogers replied solemnly, "give or take a couple of days."

Something inside her shattered like china plates that dropped to the floor, and it echoed on the outside. She didn't cry, or make a sound, or demand to see him- she turned off; shut herself down from everything. Her gaze fixed to the wall- Harry was going to die and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Miss Lim? Are you okay?" he asked, leaning in to observe how she looked. She stared blankly with no intention of answering. "I'm sorry I had to tell you like this, but the doctors asked me to assure you that they will try to do everything they can-"

"What's the point of trying if nothing's going to change, Constable?" she replied bluntly, laying back down on her bed and facing away from him, "Please leave me alone."

Carissa tuned him out until she heard a reluctant sigh leave his throat. Constable Rogers picked up his belongings and left without another word. The door clicked as it shut, leaving Carissa isolated from everybody else. She felt alone now more than ever.

The beeping still continued, and sooner than later it became the loudest noise in the world- it was a painful reminder that she was alive and that Harry was holding on to whatever he could. It was then that she realized that walls did not make a prison, and bars did not make a cage- her confinement was structured by her own reluctance to accept what was going on. Carissa closed her eyes and suddenly became fond of an easeful death- no amount of morphine could take away the pain she felt.

***

"Miss Lim, you have a visitor," announced a nurse. She poked her head through a small crack in the door to see Carissa staring at the wall. The nurse that tended to her had found her in that state almost every time she walked in- otherwise Carissa was sleeping.

"I don't want to see anybody."

"She insists."

Before Carissa could argue back, the woman whom she recognized to be Harry's sister stepped in. She flashed a brief smile before closing the door.

"Good morning," she greeted. Lucy's hair was up in a loose bun at the back of her head, signifying that she really didn't have the patience to put it up neatly. The area under her eyes were a reddish purple, indicating he hadn't slept all that much. It had been a week and a half since Carissa had been admitted to the hospital, and it felt like it had been years since she got a proper sleep. Still, Carissa made an effort to consciously analyze Lucy's abrupt appearance in her room.

"Morning," Carissa replied. Lucy took a seat in the chair beside her bed and fixed her hair, but it didn't look any nicer when she was finished. Things were quiet between the two of them for a while until Carissa spoke out.

"I'm...I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"This is my fault."

"Why would it be?"

"None of this would've happened if I hadn't met him. He would've been somewhere out there- he might've won the Nationals too, and-"

"Hey, hey...don't say that. You meant a lot to him, honestly-"

"He wouldn't be in a coma if it weren't for me."

Lucy felt an immense level of sympathy for Carissa- she wasn't saying those things to get people to feel bad for her; she was saying them because it was how she truly felt.

"You haven't visited him," Lucy pointed out, trying to avoid Carissa's self-berating mindset.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Carissa shrugged. She loved him too much. Seeing Harry in a coma would break her apart more than she had already done herself. To know that he wouldn't wake- not now, not ever- was worse than any sort of punishment Lucas could have dished out. She reckoned he knew exactly what he was doing: that by killing Harry, he would also kill her too.

"Well I think you should visit him. He talked about you like you were the only person that mattered before he got disqualified from the Nationals. Even if he weren't in a coma, I think he would've wanted you to see him."

Lucy gave a half-apologetic grin and waited for an answer.

"Why are you being so nice to me? Your brother's going to die in a few days and it's my fault. Doesn't that bother you?" Carissa asked quietly. Lucy looked out the window and chuckled softly.

"It wasn't your fault. Of course it bothers me. He's my baby brother, and I don't...I don't know what I'm going to do without him," she replied, her lip quivering and fighting back her tears, "but I knew why he did what he did and it was brave. I'm being nice to you because if anything, I owe it to him- he did what he did for you."

Carissa pursed her lips together and exhaled, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

"Could you get me a wheelchair? I want you to take me to see him."

***

Lucy wheeled Carissa down to Recovery Ward A, Room 4B. Before she even came close to seeing Harry, she felt a twinge of sadness pulse through her. Nothing would change what had happened- Lucas made sure of it.

She finally stopped in front of the door, and Carissa could see him laying there through the little window on the door- tubes were connected to a mask that was strapped over his nose and mouth, and his arms were much skinnier than when she last saw him. Carissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath in.

She turned the handle and Lucy pushed her in, then departed promptly to leave them alone and shutting the door behind her. Carissa sat beside Harry's body, examining the extensive measures they took to keep him breathing. His heart monitor beeped at a much slower rate than hers had; his chest rose once every few seconds, then fell shortly after, like a baby's first few breaths; the area under his eyes were dark and sallow, and his cheeks were beginning to hollow out; his bones could be seen, trying to jut out of his skin. Had she not seen his tattoos, she could've sworn he wasn't Harry at all.

She stared at him and didn't know what to do- could he hear her? Did he know she was there? It wasn't as if she had another option.

"Hey, Harry," she whispered. He didn't respond, but she didn't mind.

Whether he could hear her or not, she was going to treat him as if he was listening.

"You're a fucking idiot," she began, rubbing her eyes, "why the hell would you take Lucas on by yourself? After everything, you should've suspected something was wrong. God, you're such a fucking dumbass."

She ran her fingers along his own and traced the outline of his bones. She touched each and every little inkling he had, as if maybe he'd react to one of them being pressed. She entwined her phalanges with his and held his hand tight. He looked like how he did when she'd wake to him in the morning, as snores left his throat and his face was pressed against his pillow, as his hair was disheveled and in dire need of a comb, and as he held her close, afraid she'd run away from him in the middle of the night.

"But you're so, so brave...you did all of this because you wanted to protect me, and I just..." she broke off. She couldn't stand pretending to be strong anymore- her heart broke at the lack of his answers. She cried and cried, and it seemed that no matter how many times she wiped them away with her hands, the tears kept pouring and pouring.

"I love you so much, Harry," she sobbed into the sheets of the mattress beside his arm, "God, wake up! Please! I should've told you that I loved you a long time ago and I didn't and...and now it's too late. Fuck, wake up!"

She yelled at Harry and cried even harder, her breaths coming out in short sniffles. She pulled herself up out of her wheelchair and leaned against his bed on the leg she still had. Carissa ran her hands through his hair and kissed his forehead.

"Please...please wake up. I need you so much. I don't know what I'm going to do without you...please, baby. The police told me everything that happened- they caught it all on tape- and the doctors said that they're giving me a prosthetic soon. Things are going well and I just need you, Harry, please..."

He didn't stir at all.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she yelled, slumping back down in her chair and wiping tears away from her cheeks, "Why would you get me to care about you? Why would you do this? Why did you make me fall in love with you with no intent of catching me?"

She sobbed for an endless amount of time, whispering worthless words against his hand and kissing the back of it to repent for her words.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. This is my fault, baby, I know. I've always wanted to be with you and I'm sorry for doubting you and I'm sorry that you're in this mess because of me. "

She took a moment to pray. Carissa wasn't religious, but if anything would help, then it was worth the shot. She prayed for his life back, prayed that even if they weren't together anymore, that he would still be alive, and happy, and safe, and prayed for some sort of sign to let her know if she needed to brace herself for what was to come.

Her tears fell onto her hands as she clasped them together and clamped her eyes shut in order to focus on what was going through her head and shut out the noise emitting from the heart monitor.

Just then, a doctor opened the door and paused at the sight of the young woman crying with her patient's hand pressed to her forehead and hunched over in her seat.

"Ma'am?" she interrupted after a minute or so. Carissa wiped her face and sat straight up, but refused to let go of his hand. The nurse walked over to her, rubbing her back to comfort her.

"Is he going to wake up?" Carissa asked, staring at Harry. The nurse bit her lower lip and hesitated to answer, but the truth had to be told.

"I'm sorry, ma'am- I truly am. The pathogen that he was given has taken over most of his immune system."

"How long does he have?"

"No more than a day and a half. I'm...I'm sorry."

The nurse left Carissa to herself, but Carissa wished she hadn't. She was alone again with Harry, who wasn't really there at all.

A day and a half. He was so frail and on the edge of death itself. Yet he didn't look angry, or upset, or distressed whatsoever- he looked so at peace and forgiving. She realized that she would never forget him no matter how hard she tried. Seeing him there in his bed only brought back memories of them together: the time when he brought her home and made her breakfast, the time when he agreed to bike with her in Malibu, the kiss he left lingering on her cheek that night, the time she saw him playing with kids- then she paused.

Kids. Children. She remembered Lucas holding a knife up saying, "I have to make sure you're not pregnant".

A certain horror plagued her head- if by small chance that she was pregnant, it would have been Harry's. He was going to die, and that baby wouldn't have that magnificent man to call a dad. They wouldn't have Harry to cradle them to sleep or kiss them goodnight, to bring them to the pool or watch cartoons with them on Saturday mornings, to help them tie their shoes or escape in dress up adventures or fight dragons and have tea parties, to help them learn how to ride a bike or pick them up for their first day of school, to help them through their first breakup or see them venture off to university- he wouldn't be there to see them grow up. They wouldn't be able to experience his love.

She felt sick to her stomach and cried again, only softly this time. Nothing would bring him back from his inevitable fate, and even though she wished it wasn't so, it had to be.

"I love you, Harry," she repeated over and over again, as if she couldn't get the message across the right way, "I love you more than anything."

She clutched his hand in both of hers and savoured the feeling of his skin, rough and calloused in comparison to hers. She thought back to painting his living room and the two handprints on the wall that would forever remain a part of his home. She remembered him more than she wanted to, and the more she remembered, the more she yearned to hold onto him; she didn't want to forget him in fear that she would lose him forever. If anything, at least he'd still be alive in her memory.

Carissa kissed his hand one last time before taking a deep breath in and exhaling it all out. She pushed on the wheels of her wheelchair and left the room without another word. The last thing she heard before leaving through the door was the beeping of the heart monitor, only it was noticeably slower than before.

The door shut with a click. Lucy got up from her seat and walked towards Carissa.

"Are you okay?"

Carissa shook her head.

"I want to go back to my room. By myself."

Lucy nodded and stepped aside. She watched the young woman put all of her energy and focus into pushing herself back to Recovery Ward C, Room 19A. Little did she know that with every heave and push, with every interval that her muscles recoiled in preparation to push again, and with every breath that escaped her lips, she wished that all of the stamina she poured out would somehow make its way back to Harry.

On her way back, she saw a nurse in Room 13B laying a white cloth over the person laying in the hospital bed. The same machine that was in Harry's room sat by the bedside. She wished what she wished before, but harder.

Carissa, stop, her conscience reminded her, by hoping for the impossible to occur, the only person you'll hurt is yourself.

She opened her room door and shut it again, absorbing herself in the deafening silence. She pushed herself over to the window and looked downwards, wondering how people could walk around not knowing the same amount of love Harry had shown for her. Everybody that he had touched was lucky enough to know him.

At least heaven would get one of their angels back. Carissa let herself cry and cry. She always used to think that love wasn't something that could be measured, but now she understood that she was so, so wrong- her love for him could be calculated by how many tears she had shed, and she feared that it would be endless.

She wished what she wished before, but even harder.

Hope you enjoyed! ONE chapter left!

Thank you all so much for making Psycho so successful. We never thought we'd get this far in two and a half months. You've made us so thankful for amazing readers like you, and we will continue to write as long as you read.

Like the story?

TWITTER: Tweet me (@chinavasewrites) with your Wattpad username and the title of the story and let me know what you think!

INSTAGRAM: Put the title of the story and my Wattpad username in the little description, plus your Wattpad username, take a picture of your favourite part, and tag me (@melissateooo)!