Anxiety 》h.s.

eighteen

Unedited

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Dr. Harry Styles POV

Mess. Chaos. Havoc.

Those are the words that could describe the situation as soon as those blue eyes met my green ones. The monitor starts to beep rapidly, her pressure keeps increasing as I stood there frozen. She was screaming with tube and all and her body is thrashing around as if she's going crazy.

I can't speak. Everything is happening so fast. One second I was looking down on my daughter and then I was thrown out of the room as Louis rushed into the room with nurses.

I slid down the wall in the clean sterile corridors as I saw Ashton rushes towards me.

"What happened, Harry?" He asked in a rushing manner. I shake my head as tears start to well up in my eyes.

Ashton opens her door and all I could hear is her shouting and protest and I heard Louis shouting something about sedative. I couldn't take it anymore as I stand up and start walking away.

"Harry?" I heard someone call up behind me but I ignore the person and continue walking away.

Footsteps could be heard behind me, "Harry? Haz, where are you going?"

It's Niall – I know the voice all too well. I fasten my pace and walk to the nearest toilet in the hospital. As soon as I locked the toilet, I let the tears fall as I sob into my hands.

Why is this happening to me?

Why am I such a bad father?

What have I done to deserve all of this?

Where did I go wrong to make my daughter's life like this?

And the questions kept going on and on like circles in my head. Every inch of my head is filled with the whats and the whys and it never stops running around. Even the tears won't stop as I grow frustrated with all the unanswered questions inside my head.

"Fuck!" I smashed the mirror in front of me as I stare at my reflection on the cracked glass. My hair is a mess, crazy curls hanging around my head, with my cheeks red and my eyes bloodshot.

Do I deserve to be her father?

I pull on my hair trying to subside the growing pain inside my heart on the fact that my daughter is lying unconscious – almost dead, and I am staring at my ugly reflection in a hospital's restroom. Let's not mention I slapped my daughter in front of my best mate just because I could not control my anger and frustration.

What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I am going mad. Maybe I should be admitted to a psychiatric ward and talk to a shrink.

My eyes darted to my knuckles where I can see some blood on it and to be honest, it does not even hurt. Maybe it's the fact that my head and heart hurt much worse that it dominates the feeling of pain inside my body making my knuckles all bloodied but not feeling any pain on it. I let it run on the cold water, letting the blood flows into the sink, the water turning red within seconds.

I splash some water on my face trying to hide the fact that I have been crying and dry my knuckles with some paper towels. After making sure that the Irishman is nowhere in sight, I quickly make my way to my office which is just 2 levels below the ICU unit.

As soon as I pass the nurse station, I saw Susan shot up from her seat making her way towards me, "Emm, Dr. Styles?"

I turn around to face her and her eyes widen probably looking at my blotched faced and bloodshot eyes, "Yes, Nurse Susan?" I said, my voice hoarse from the crying.