Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“Hold on, don’t move. Let me get the nurse.” Jackson jumps up and rushes to my side. He grabs something behind me, and a moment later, a female voice comes through a speaker.
“Nurses station.”
“She’s awake and needs some more pain meds.”
“I’ll be right there.” The line goes dead, and Jackson takes a step back.
I can only manage to look at him briefly before I turn my head away from him again. Seeing his face hurts too much right now. It’s nothing but a reminder of what he said to me. How he treated me. I trusted him, and he betrayed that fragile trust. He believed Tylor’s lie about me without even asking my side of the story. How could he believe what he told him? Does he think so little of me? I thought we were getting somewhere, letting go of the past. My chest aches at the thoughts rushing through my brain.
Thankfully, the nurse comes in, pulling a small cart behind her, sidetracking my thoughts.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, walking up to my side. She doesn’t smile, but her demeanor isn’t mean, just serious.
“Okay.” The lie rolls off my tongue so easily.
“On a scale from one to ten, what’s your pain at right now?”
One million. But that’s just the ache in my chest over the betrayal.
“Eight,” I tell her. “Maybe a nine. My head hurts.”
“You lost a lot of blood. And the doctor found a bump on the back of your head, you must have hit it on the bathtub.”
Or on a brick wall. I should say it out loud. Tell her that I want Jackson gone, that he is the reason I’m hurting, but some small part of me won’t let the words escape.
“I’m going to check your vitals and then give you some more pain meds through your IV.” She starts wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm and takes my pulse while the machine is working, squeezing my arm tightly almost to the point of pain.
“Blood pressure is good,” she tells me after she is done. Then she gets a syringe from her cart and injects something into my IV. It only takes a few seconds before I feel the effects. A warm fuzzy feeling spreads through my veins, covering me like a soft heavy blanket.
Exhaustion takes hold of me once more, and with the pain disappearing, I can finally close my eyes and escape the world again.
The next time I wake up, someone is holding my hand. I know instantly it’s not Jackson. These hands are smaller, softer, and less warm. Prying my eyes open, I come face to face with my mother.
“Hey, honey,” she coos, a sad smile on her lips.
“Hey, Mom. What are you doing here? You didn’t have to come all this way. I’m fine.”
“Oh, Kennedy, of course, I came. You’re my child. Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I know what she is thinking. Why didn’t you tell me that you were hurting yourself… that you wanted to end your life?
The real question is, what would she have done? I’m pretty sure the answer to that is nothing. She would have brushed it off, told me to get out more, make friends, and be normal.
“I’m sorry.” I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for, but I feel the need to say the words. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” I hear my father’s gruff voice from the other side of the room. Only then do I register the other two people in the room. My father is sitting in a chair in the corner, looking down at a newspaper. He doesn’t even look at me.
My gaze swings to Jackson, who is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, staring daggers at my father.
“Travis, now is not the time,” my mother warns, but there is not much conviction behind her statement, which eggs my father on even more.
“When is a good time, Claudia? After she kills herself? After she makes a mockery out of this family yet again?”
Instead of saying anything else, my mom just lowers her head and squeezes my hand.
“Get out,” Jackson’s voice booms through the room. Both mine and my mom’s head snaps up to find Jackson looking furious.
“What?” My father looks up from his paper like he can’t believe Jackson is brave enough to say something.
“You heard me, old man. Get the fuck out,” Jackson growl.
“How dare you––” My father starts but is cut off by Jackson’s hand, grabbing a fist full of his shirt to drag him from his chair.
“How dare I? How dare you talk to her like that? You’re her father. You’re supposed to care for her, not make her feel worse. You’re part of the problem, and I’m not standing by and letting her be hurt anymore.”