Can you tell me your name please?
“Can you tell me your name please?”
“David… David Jones.”
“Okay… ‘David’. Can you tell me why you’re here please?”
“I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Okay, but why do you think you’re here?”
“Because of Louis, Liam, all of them. They just won’t leave me alone.”
“Okay… This will be easier if you tell me the truth. Let’s start again. Can you tell me your name please?”
There was little light shining through the windows when Louis came in. It must have been what… two, three in the morning? Louis just stood in the doorway, looking into the room. Watching the young boy sit on the end of the bed looking out of the window. Unlike Louis who was in plaid pyjama bottoms and a black v-neck t, the boy was fully dressed, shoes and all.
The boy was oblivious to Louis watching and Louis was sure not to disturb him. After what easily could have been an hour Louis left and went back to his own room.
“Why ask if you clearly already know my name?”
“Because it will help if you open up and by telling me your name it’s getting you to talk.”
“But what’s the point? Look there’s nothing wrong with me, I shouldn’t be here so can’t you just let me go home?”
“You know it doesn’t work like that.”
Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn were sitting at the table eating breakfast when he came downstairs. He was dressed the same way he was that night and it was clear by the bags under his eyes, how messy his hair was and how pale he was that he hadn’t slept at all that night. He’d just sat there, looking out of that window.
He just picked up his bag and left, ignoring the question “what about breakfast?” asked by Louis.
“I’ve been told you haven’t been eating properly? Can you tell me about that?”
“I’ve been eating just fine. Just because people don’t see me, doesn’t mean I don’t.”
“Okay. You look pale and tired. My guess is you haven’t been sleeping, can you tell me why?”
“I just can’t.”
“But why can’t you?”
“I. Just. Can’t.”
“Do you have bad dreams? Do you not feel tired?”
“I DON’T KNOW! You tell me, aren’t you supposed to be the one telling me what’s wrong with me!? ISN’T THAT WHY THEY SEND ME HERE WEEK AFTER WEEK!?”
“I can’t help you unless you talk to me.”
“I DON’T WANT OR NEED YOUR HELP! Whatever Louis keeps telling you is complete bull. I’M FINE.”
“You need to calm down.”
“No! Don’t tell me what the fuck to do! YOU KNOW NOTHING AB… AB…. ABOUT M… M… ME!”
“Harry…?”
“I… I can’t breathe.”
“It’s okay. Just take your time. One at a time, in and out.”
At exactly ten he got back on the tour bus. Liam called him into the living room. Louis and Liam were sat on the sofa waiting for him.
“We need to talk,” said Liam
He was greeted with a sigh in response.
“Harry, we’re very worried about you. We’ve heard you having panic attacks in the night?”
“Bull.” He replied simply before walking out of the room and settling onto his bunk, closing the curtain behind him.
“Harry, take your time, in and out… That’s good just like that.”
“I… It h… it hurts.”
“Where does it hurt Harry?”
Harry looked away.
“Harry, stay right here, I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“Dinners ready!” Liam called.
Zayn, Niall and Louis sat at the table but Harry was nowhere to be seen.
“Harry!?” He called but got no reply.
“I’ll go and get him.” Said Louis making his way to the bunks.
When he saw Harry wasn’t there he tried the bathroom but what he found was something he could never un-see.
There was so much blood across the flood of the bathroom and stood in the middle of it was a pale shaking boy. Wrists slit with blood pouring. The look of haunting in his eyes when he looked over at Louis was too much to bear. He was ignoring the pleads to just let him die from the young boy as he started applying pressure to the wounds.
He ignored the cries as the ambulance took him away and he ignored the look of betrayal in his eyes when he signed the young boy into the mental facility.
Walking into his new room was terrifying. All the walls were white, there was a small window. There were no decorations, no real comforts. He sat down on his bed and just turned to the window. He started doing what he’d spent so many nights doing at home. Just staring out the window for who knows how long.
“Hi Harry, I’m doctor Jones. I’m going to be your therapist while you’re here.”