AFTER THERE'S YOU // ZESSA

Chapter 19: Believe Me

I wake to the sound of a steady beeping noise a few feet away. Fluttering my eyes open, I'm overwhelmed by the bright fluorescent lights blaring into them. Instinctively, I bring my hands up to cover my face, only to have my right arm be jerked down by something. Squinting, I look down to see an IV sticking out of my wrist, connected to a bag a deep red blood labeled O+.

The memories of how I got here come back in flashes. Hardin. A lamp exploding. Falling. Blood. Steph. And then nothing. I quickly look to my other arm and see it wrapped tightly in gauze and bandages from my wrist all the way up to my bicep.

"Hey," I hear, and turn to see Steph sitting at my bedside.

"What..." I try to say, but my throat is extremely dry. The heaviness of exhaustion covers me like a blanket as I lean back, trying to clear my throat.

"You, you fell Tessa. A lamp broke and we found you in a trashed room, bleeding. I tried to stop it as best as I could, but you passed out. Tristan called the police and an ambulance brought you here."

"But, but... Hardin." Why is it so hard to form sentences right now?

"Do...do you want me to call him?" She says apprehensively, pulling out a phone from the space between her chest and the purple dress she still has on from the party. Except now the dress is purple and red, stained with my blood.

"No!" I scream, lurching forward. I wince as I stretch my arms out. I can feel the tender skin under my bandage pulling.

"Ok, ok," she says anxiously, putting her phone away and squeezing my hand.

"He, he did this. He threw the lamp. I fell," I say, gasping between breaths.

"No... I found you alone. Hardin wasn't at the party," she says, tilting her head and squinting her eyes.

I stare back at her, mouth open and eyes wide. Of course, he was there.

"Yes. Yes, he was, Stephanie," I say back assertively, leaning forward - my eyes intense.

"No, Tessa, he wasn't. He was with Dan at the docks. You... you or someone, trashed the room. And you fell," she repeats, swallowing hard and looking away.

This can't be happening. Does she really think I trashed that room and fell on my own? I thought I heard Hardin yell for help, but I can't remember clearly. All I remember was the blood. And when Steph came running in. Someone had to hear him, right? Someone had to see Hardin. I thought Steph saw him...

Before I can say anything, I hear a knock at the door. Entering the wooden door to my room are two police officers and what I'm assuming is a doctor, maybe a nurse.

"Miss Jones," the bigger male officer says, looking at Steph, "can you give us a few minutes alone with Miss Young? We need to ask her a few questions."

She squeezes my hand and smiles politely at me before leaving the room.

"Hello Miss Young, I'm Dr. Taylor. Are you feeling well enough to answer some questions?" he says, smiling down at me while approaching my bed.

"Yeah, I think so," I whisper back, my voice cracking again.

"Okay, I'll be just over here if you need anything or want to stop," Dr. Taylor says reassuringly, before sitting in a chair by the door.

Both officers approach my bedside, choosing not to sit down. The skinnier one with a mustache pulls out a notebook and pen, while the bigger one clears his throat.

"Miss Young, can you describe to me how your night went?" he says, very matter-of-factly.

What time is it anyways? Above the door the time reads 12:20. I look out the window to see it's pitch black. So, it's only been a couple of hours since this whole thing happened.

"Yes," I say, swallowing and pushing myself up in the bed. "I went to a frat party with my friend Steph. She went off with her boyfriend and I went upstairs by myself. I went in an empty room and locked it. I just wanted a few minutes to myself, away from everyone else. That's when..." I trail off, tears forming quickly in my eyes.

"That's when Hardin came in. I don't know how he got in. I think he had the room key. We started arguing. Then he just started throwing things. I was scared and tried to stay out of his way, but he wouldn't let me leave the room. So, I decided to run and that's when he threw a lamp. He didn't hit me with it, but I landed on the shards. And then Stephanie came in. And... and that's all I remember," I say, as silent tears spill down my face in droves.

"I see," says the mustached one with the notepad.

"Miss Young," the big officer says, looking frustrated, "the thing is, we already questioned Miss Stephanie Jones, and she said she found you alone."

"I'm telling you I wasn't. Hardin was there and did this," I say, my voice a little stronger than I intended.

"You see, she mentioned your past with this Hardin Scott, so we gave him a call. He wasn't at that party. And the few other people we interviewed at the frat house didn't see him either. In fact, Hardin Scott was with someone else that night and has the alibi to prove it," he says, looking down at me as if I'm the bad guy in this situation.

"What? No. No, he was there. I wouldn't just wreck a room. I didn't just fall onto a lamp by myself," I yell, practically yanking the IV from my arm as my fists tangle in my hair. Why does no one believe me? How can Hardin do this?

"Are you sure about that Miss Young? I've been told you have a history with several of the boys in that fraternity. Perhaps you were mad? Maybe upset with them and saw it as an opportunity to get back at them for any past grievances," he explains, eyes narrowing.

I can't stop the tears spilling out of my eyes. I feel my chest tightening as I try to get my words out.

"No, no, I didn't, I didn't do that," I choke out between sobs. How can this be happening?

"I think that's enough for now," Dr. Taylor says sternly, walking over to stand between me and the officers.

"Alright. Well we'll take her statement down. And just so you know Miss Young, that fraternity has graciously decided to not press charges. You better thank whichever friends you still have there," the skinny officer says, chastising me with just a look.

"Enough!" Dr Taylor says, raising his voice and pointing to the door.

I collapse back on the bed, my body racked with sobs. I thrash from side to side, too filled with pain and anger to stop myself. I feel like I can't catch my breath, though I'm sucking in air as fast as I can.

"Nurse!" I hear Dr. Taylor yell. I see my door fly open as a woman in scrubs enters with a syringe. She hands it to the doctor, who injects it into my IV.

Within seconds, my thrashing slows, and I find it hard to keep my eyes open. I feel extremely tired and can't even lift my head. However, my thoughts seem to remain mostly clear as I take in what's happing around me.

"I gave you a sedative Miss Young. You were having a panic attack," Dr. Taylor explains, placing the syringe in the orange bin behind him.

"They don't believe me," I mutter, staring off at nothing in particular.

He looks down at me and gives me a sad smile while patting my hand.

"Someone is here to see you," he says, perking up a bit, "and I think you'll be happy to see them."

Just then, the door opens, and I see no other than a flustered Carol Young enter the room. My mother, great.