Heyo! This IS the chapter!!! The chapter you’ve alllll been waiting for! And OMFG. Only two chapters left after this one, some finalization and then the epilogue. And YES, I have to make this into a five-book series. If you all will support me for that long, that is. But things will be a lot more detailed in the books that consist of her years at college and STUFF. So, yeah, EXCITED at series, sad that this book is going to end. *tear*
Chapter 23-White Room
“It’s a miracle . . . You say she fell . . . ? Yes. . . . Oh yes. . . . Of course. . . . Not for a while, no. . . . No. . . .”
The words were coming through my brain slowly, slowly, as if a messenger snail was bringing them. HURRY THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID MESSENGER SNAIL.
I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were too heavy. What the fuck? I tried and tried but they would just not lift. Did they tie fucking BRICKS to my eyes or something?
Fight . . . fight . . . fight. . . . Sleep . . . sleep . . . sleep. . . .
NO! FUCK YOU! FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!
Sleep . . . sleep . . . sleep. . . .
FIGHT.
Sleep. . . .
Fight. . . .
Sleep. . . .
Sleep. . . .
And with that I was lost to unconsciousness again.
***
“Margarita . . . Margarita . . . Margaritaaa. . . .”
Who the fuck is calling me Margarita?
“Dun cowl meh doot,” I mumble, trying and failing to get words out.
A babble of excited whispers broke out, and I could tell that they were shocked that I had actually mumbled. Bitch please. I got this.
“Margarita, it’s okay to wake up. Wake up now.”
Buuut I still couldn’t. Fucking eyelids.
“Done CULL meh dat,” I mumbled again, brows furrowing.
“Her brows furrowed . . . oh my god . . . more progess . . . then I thought. . . .,” a man whispered, but he was so far away that I only caught a couple words.
“Margarita, come on, wake up!” a quiet voice pleaded softly, and this time it came with a little shake.
“Don’t CALL me that!” I yelled, my eyes flying open and shooting daggers at the doctor who was trying to wake me.
“Oh – um – sorry – Margarita, um – your family,” the doctor stumbled, but all my friends and the Bradleys were pounding through the door, throwing hugs on me, a couple kisses on the cheek from the Bradley boys, including Alex *eyebrows raised*, and a full on love-kiss from Clarke. I missed my Clarkey-boy.
“Elle!”
“We were so worried!”
“Sweety, are you all right?”
“How are you?”
“Any pain?”
“You know, they wouldn’t let me come in here while you were sleeping. . . .”
The last one came from Nick, who I promptly punched in the arm so hard that he yelped.
Clarke quickly scooted next to me on the bed, pulling me to him, burying his face in my hair – er, wig. I hugged him with all my might, ignoring the others, just wanting this moment, this one moment, for the two of us.
YOU ARE READING
Trying Not to Strangle the Bradley Boys
RandomMargarita Noelle Wilson had a pretty normal life. If you can call an alcoholic mother and being shipped off to some house in the country normal. Elle, as she is preferred to be called, doesn't even KNOW these people. And guess what? ALL THEIR CH...
