4.8
When I come to, there’s a swirl of faces peering over me, staring at me down on the floor. A cold cloth is pressed to my head and my mother brushes the wet hair off of my skin. I try to sit up but she pushes me back down.
“Piper, easy now,” she murmurs.
Among the blurry, staring faces, I see Lane and my fists clench.
“Get out!” I scream hoarsely. My mother tries to calm me down but I refuse to. “Someone get her out of here!”
When my uncle realizes I’m talking about Lane, he whispers something to her and whisks her away, far away from me. When I feel the door close I sigh and lean my head back down, closing my eyes.
“Piper,” Mother hushes, “what in the world was that about?”
“It’s her fault. Everything is her fault.”
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Fragments
Teen FictionOne bridge. Two guys. Three secrets. Four therapists. Five attempts. Six months. Seven bad habits. Eight family meetings. Nine visits. Ten cuts. One death. Spiritual #4
