I Was on The Voice: A NBC's "The Voice" Fanfiction [COMPLETE]

Chapter Fourteen

[Just warning you guys, I know this chapter's short, it's pretty much just Beka freaking out.]

I felt cool air hitting my face, and someone carrying me. Suddenly, I realized that I had only passed out for about a minute, which meant that Peter was the one carrying me.

Despite the pain in my head, I began repeatedly slapping him as hard as I could. I received the desired effect, he let go out of surprised and I tumbled to the ground, not really caring, though, as it was only a few feet.

“What was that for?” Peter demanded. Adam, who I could see a short distance away, was talking on his phone, probably to the doctors at the hospital.

“You know perfectly well what that was for.”

“So what? You’re gonna keep us from trying to help you. You need to get to the hospital, Beka.”

I crossed my arms like a little kid, staying where I was. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Certainly if he was the one taking me there. But I knew that they could keep me off the show if I had to go back there.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Oh well, get over it.”

“Nope.” He tried to pick me up again, so I just slapped him again.

He let out an exasperated sigh, grabbed me under the arms, and started pulling me like that.

“OW! WHAT THE HECK?” It was quite uncomfortable. Plus, I was still in that long, annoying dress.

Of course, Adam chose to look over right then. “What are you doing?” he asked, heading over.

“She’s being stubborn,” Peter said, as if that explained everything.

“Beka, what is it?” Adam asked, kneeling down next to me. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going back there.”

Peter had managed to drag me over to Adam’s car (as his own was probably in a dump somewhere right about now), and Adam unlocked it, opening the back door. “Lay down in the back,” he ordered.

“No.”

“Beka, we can talk in a minute, just get in.”

“Nope.”

Peter picked me up again and I tried to slap him again, but pain shot through my head and I couldn’t.

“She’s quite the persistent one,” I heard Peter mutter to Adam outside of the car.

“I HEARD THAT!” I yelled.

They climbed in the car, Adam driving, Peter in the passenger seat. “You’re not taking me back to the hospital,” I told both of them.

Adam turned around. “Beka, why not?”

“They’ll kick me off the show if I go back there.”

He sighed. “Beka, I was really hoping that trying this would work and you’d be able to stay on the show. But now we know, and we’re not going to let you keep hurting yourself by staying on here. It’s not what I want either, and I don’t blame you for not being able to perform, it’s just what it is. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t even care that I was about to yell at my favorite celebrity, I was fuming. “In case you didn’t notice, I performed just fine. It was this idiot’s strobe lights that got to me-” I gave Peter’s chair a nice hard kick.

“Beka-” Peter began, but I cut him off.

“PETER, SHUT UP!” I was super pissed. But I was also getting sad.

“I can’t believe either of you are just going to give up on me so fast just because somebody got me in a car crash.” Another kick to Peter’s chair.

“We’re not-” Adam tried to being, but I kept talking. Tears were starting to well up now.

“My mom died when I was fifteen and since then my only dream has been to pursue music and make her proud, and now that’s finally gotten to happen. But of course the one decent thing to ever happen to me is being ruined just because of a stupid car c-crash-” I was crying and it was causing me to stutter now. “So if you two jerks just don’t care about m-my dream and just want to b-betray me then fine. O-obviously neither of you c-cared about me in the f-first place if you’re just g-gonna give up on me like this.” Tears were streaming down my face, my throat hurt, and my head was throbbing.

“Just know that I’m never, ever going to forgive either of you for this,” I managed to choke out. The car came to a stop. Both of them turned around and looked at me, jaws dropped slightly.

Before either of them could say anything, the back doors opened and some doctors appeared, picking me up to put me on a stretcher. I tried to struggle, but it was no use. “I HATE BOTH OF YOU,” I half screamed, half cried in the direction of the car.

I was sobbing as I was lifted onto the stretcher and didn’t even try to stay conscious. I had no reason to anymore.

[Haha okay I know that no one's gonna like that chapter. OH GOOD LORD BEKA'S GONNA KILL ME!!! Dear readers, do pray that I am alive to write the next chapter, because masterofdisaster is going to kill me when she reads this.]