Chapter 3 | What The Hell Were You Thinking!?

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Does she even have the right to curse me out — especially when I almost died?

"Oh, I'm not done," she said with a dangerously calm voice. "Who even goes in the woods nowadays?"

Welcome to the 21st century, people.

"Obviously, I do!" I defended myself and was met with an annoyed sigh from Hazel.

It's not my fault that my way home was occupied by construction workers. It's not like I wanted to go in the woods in the first place.

"Elena, don't you understand that you could've died?" Her voice turned into a gentle tone that was entwined with half-whispering words. When she sat down on her chair again, I met her soft eyes that were filled with worry when you saw past the wall of annoyance.

A wave of guilt washed over my chest when I realized how much weight Hazel had been carrying this night.

I can't believe how inconsiderable I have been.

"But I didn't," I gestured my hands to my beaten-up and sore body that was laying on the hospital bed, the tubes attached to my limbs following the movements of my hands.

"Barely," she muttered under her breath. "What if you died, Elena? Hm? It wouldn't be that funny, now would it?"

Ugh, she's already talking about me like I'm dead — something I will be if she continues to curse me out like this.

"Do you really think that you can get rid of me that easily?" I arched an eyebrow in an elegant way — or at least I hoped it looked like it. "Hazy, stop being so crazy, you lazy daisy of a Jay-Z."

I'm not sure where this came from, but I guess that the medications are kicking in.

Although I found my words quite hilarious, Hazel did not. I think I aimed too high and stepped beyond her limits, considering that she became annoyed in an entirely new level; something I was certain would ensure me a long and painful death.

"You're lucky that I can't hurt you without killing you."

"I'm touched."

Our eyes were killing each other, but behind the wall of glares, there was a winking gleam of light that radiated with warmth. The war did not even last five seconds as our faces, little by little, cracked with beams shining through the wall.

"But seriously," the curly-haired girl said in a humorless tone when the joy died. "Don't do that again."

My lips curled up into a goofy smile. "You mean almost dying? Nah, I don't know, Hazel, it's kinda my thing now, you know? Falling down a hill every Friday has become a tradition — and I have to follow my new ritual until the day I actually die."

Before a word could follow her laughter, a man in a white coat with a stethoscope surrounding his neck walked in. The doctor's mahogany brown eyes were glued on the clipboard in his hands, and when he finally tore his attention from the papers and let it fall on me, he smiled.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Campbell?" Dr. Lee asked softly, a kind gleam showing in his smiling-wrinkles as he took the stethoscope off his neck to check my breathing. "Could you take a deep breath for me?"

"Well," I started. "I'm not laying in the woods and dying, so I guess I'm better."

He took briefly laughed and continued to scribble down something on the clipboard.

"You were dehydrated, that's why you passed out when the police and paramedics found you." He looked up from his notes to point his pen at my broken arm. "You need to wear that cast for a couple of weeks. If you were to be in too much pain, just take some painkillers, alright? And please, don't hesitate to ask me any questions."

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