Second Snapshot (Picture This Sequel: Niall Horan)

-Confessional blood. [Chapter 42]

CHAPTER FORTY TWO- Confessional blood.

At first it was just a slight movement. One of which I would have assumed to be Niall moving next to me or something but then it got more prominent. More violent and then I felt myself being rocked from side to side, the surface I was led on seeming to be caving away from me. But there was no noise, and then suddenly the sound of a groan emitted into the thick and hopeless air that I knew was Niall’s. I felt his hand travel down my side and rest on my hip as he continued to move beside me, but there was something else. Something else moving me. Deciding I could take this no longer I snapped my gaze open immediately squinting and shielding my eyes from the bright light shining right in my face.

“Louis get that away from me!”

I hissed at the brown haired way-too-awake-for-the-dead-of-the-night boy leaning over Niall and I. He gave me an apologetic look as he slid his phone back into his pocket. I could only work out some of his features as the dank darkness of the hospital halls fell over him, over us cloaking us all in the unreserved sinister darkness. Curtains blotting out any type of light at all, I could see no further than the first door down the hallway.

“Sorry. It’s just if we’re going to, now’s the only time we’re going back to the house. Just to freshen up, get some clothes, eat, whatever, so we kinda need to go now.”

Beside me Niall began to groan a bit more and then he outstretched an arm draping it properly over my body and using the back of the seats we were led on to push himself up as he gathered his surroundings in a rather confused manor.

“Did someone say eat?”

His voice was gruff and husky with his only now risen from slumber and I found it undeniably hot but I couldn’t concentrate right now, this would have been a very suitable thing to distract me but not even that worked for more than a few seconds as the realization sunk in again. Niall slowly sat up bringing me with him. I could feel the tears stinging my cheeks, they were staining my skin, blotches of bitter and sticky dampness sporting clumps of littered make-up and all hope; pouring out of my body, draining me of any emotion and content-ness.

“Uh huh, we’re going back to the house for a bit. We’ll come back for morning.”

Louis informed him. Niall stifled a yawn as he stretched his arms out and then enclosed them back around me. I absentmindedly rested my head on his shoulder feeling completely drained still, numb, almost. I knew that some when, my Mother would be turning up. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but maybe I was sparing myself the thought, or the conversation, for that matter.

It’s just quite a surreal thing, your sister’s in a coma. I don’t even understand what that’s supposed to mean. It didn’t seem real. It was always me who was in trouble, who ended up in hospital. She was the perfect one who never made mistakes, never got hurt, knew how to take of herself and was always just the perfect girl and then suddenly we just get this situation dumped on us. Ellie’s in a coma. However many times I say it to myself, it’s never real. It doesn’t seem true, like any minute I’m expecting to wake up covered in sweat and tears, and this all be a bad nightmare. Niall will be beside me, telling me it’s okay, it was just a bad dream. But that’s not happening, this is all real. But why doesn’t it feel like it then? It’s the most distraught thing, the most enraging but at the same time murder worthy thing.  I want to scream, to cry to hit something, maybe even myself, to just see if this is real. But how can I feel so angry and violent but at the same so broken? All I needed right now was to feel close, for someone to tell me that this was all just a massive sham and my sister is just fine and she’s somewhere safe, warm, and completely healthy laughing at the fact that I ever thought she’d be in a coma. But it’s not happening and as the seconds slip by, I watch the plain, black and white clock on the wall, ticking by the seconds, wasting them away into oblivion. It just seems as if every second that slides away, is a slither of doubt adding, the chances that everything’s going to return to normal getting thinner and thinner each time. Because maybe, now, we’re way too far out into the ocean to swim to the shore. I’m out of my depth. Hospitals weren’t a stranger to me and I’ve experienced a few traumatic accidents in my lifetime, but they were never to Ellie. Never her. It was almost as if she was invincible to any exit wounds, she never got hurt. That just wasn’t Ellie. But yet, here she is – or rather not – the most in the worst of it all. The thick of it all and she’s not coming back out.