Chapter 43

                                    

                                          
Ophelia's POV
                          
 Beeping.
                          
That's all I could hear. It was ringing in my ears on a constant loop and honestly it was fucking annoying. The next thing I felt was the heaviness in my head, like it weighed a ton and was pulling me down with it. 
                          
Where am I?
                          
I struggle to open my eyes, the light in the room feeling like it's blinding me with how bright it is. I try to shift a little bit, but hitch my breath as a sharp pain courses through my entire body, tears immediately prickling in my eyes. 
                          
As I peek my eyes open, blinking a few times to get used to the bright light, I notice that I'm staring at a ceiling, one that I don't recognize. I'm trying so hard to remember what happened or where I am but all I can recall is me driving on my birthday to pick my mom up. 
                          
Everything is a blur, one second I was changing the radio station and then nothing, it's blank. 
                          
Shifting my head to try and move it to the side, I shut my eyes, a very throaty and quiet groan escaping my lips at how dry it feels. My lips feel chapped, and I feel like I haven't been hydrated for days. 
                          
Then suddenly, it hits me. The impact of something hitting my car, twice. The way I was being tossed around, the glass shards hitting my skin like hail, and the blood....god there was so much blood. All of the memories come flooding back, and I suddenly realize where I am.
                          
The hospital.
                          
I look down and see all these wires attached to me and I start to panic on the inside. I don't know how I got here, if anyone even knows I'm here, or how long I've been here. Does my mom even know? I try to move a little to sit up and maybe call out for someone to give me some answers, but a weight on my leg brings me to a halt. 
                          
I look down and all I see is a head of hair, brown curly hair. I go to furrow my brows but the action causes a sharp, shooting pain in my head. I inspect the person a bit more and as my eyes trail down to the hand on my leg, I make out the cross tattoo that's displayed on it. I'd recognise that tattoo anywhere. Harry.
                          
He's here.
                          
My eyes immediately water upon seeing him here, in the flesh, with me. I can only see the back of his head but just the sight of that alone overwhelms me with joy, almost enough to silence the pain. Almost.
                          
He's got my other hand trapped in his as he sleeps, a blanket thrown messily over his back. His clothes are disheveled, making him look restless, like he hasn't been sleeping properly, and I only wonder how long he's been here.
                          
Seeing him here in front of me is another kind of pain that I didn't know existed. All of the physical pain that I thought I was feeling doesn't even compare to the ache in my heart right now as I stare at Harry. 
                          
I don't know why he came here. Maybe he felt obligated to do so because he felt bad for me, but on the inside I'm still grateful. I want to reach out and touch his face or call out his name but I hold myself back, scared that once he's awake he'll leave. 
                          
And I don't want him to leave. 
                          
He shifts in his sleep, his head turning now to face me but he's still unconscious. As the sun comes up, I stay looking at him. I don't know how long I lay here staring at his face, watching the way soft breaths leave his lips, and his eyebrows twitching every once in a while. 
                          
I wonder what he's dreaming about.
                          
I have to hold back tears at times as I lay here and watch him, getting emotional about seeing him physically present. I missed him more than I thought I did, and all those weeks I've tried to forget about him are suddenly irrelevant as he sleeps here in front of me.