Just Trust Me (Rewriting)

The Beginning

Never, ever, has it been this bad. I've thought I had reached breaking point before? Nope. None of that had compared to this. The constant stream of "you're worthless, you little freak!" and other debilitating thoughts going through my head make it hard to function. I am completely broken now. I can't stay in this dorm any longer. I need to escape somewhere just to scream. I know of a place a few minutes from campus that's usually empty. I'll go there. Hopefully, I can make it to my car before I start crying so no one in the building sees and asks what's wrong. I grab my keys and run downstairs to get to my car in the underground lot.

Luckily, the dimly lit garage is void of persons. I speed out of my parking space as quickly as I can and head in the direction of the fields where I'm going for some privacy. The tears immediately begin falling, making it difficult to see through the windshield. Even worse, it's starting to rain. I'm in no state to drive, but I don't care. I need to be alone. I ignore the tightness in my chest and press down harder on the gas.

I barely calm down before something else comes to mind that makes me start sobbing again. I scream curses at myself in my empty car. I'm stopped at a light about a block away from the entrance to the dirt roads with evergreen trees lining each side.

The rain pounds harder on the roof of my little black car, mixing with my ragged sniffles. The light turns green and I turn onto the hill leading to the fields. I drive up the incline slowly as another fit of tears starts. I press the gas harder when I reach the top, so I can speed down the other side.

I hit a slippery patch that sends my wheels skidding to the right automatically. I panic more and all I can do is watch in horror as my hood collides with a thick tree trunk. The force sends my body forward, but the seatbelt catches my chest and the airbag my head, slamming me back into my seat. The air is knocked out of me and the invisible hand tightens its grip on my lungs. I gather the strength to lean forward in the seat and look out at the damage as best I can, moaning "no, no, no." My car is supposed to be a safe place for me. I stay that way for a few minutes, crying harder than I thought I could. John and Cat would be so upset that I wrecked the car. They'd have to pay for that and medical bills. If they weren't already in the process of adopting me, I'd tell them to send me back into the foster care system.

My thoughts are interrupted by sirens. I sigh in relief. At least I'd be getting help in a minute. The pain in my crushed legs is starting to become more apparent. The vehicle pulls up next to me and a paramedic opens my door. I look up at the young man getting drenched in the rain, the moon a glittering backdrop peaking through the clouds and tall pines. "We're going to get you out of here, ma'am. You'll be just fine. Try not to worry." I scoff. Worrying is my talent.

Once they cut me out of my seatbelt and airbag, they load me onto a gurney and strap me down. The paramedic loads me into the ambulance with the help of others, then sits down as they close the door. My tears have subsided, but my head is pounding and I'm suddenly exhausted. I probably have a concussion and some leg damage. I look up at him, tell him how I feel when he asks-which is not great-then proceed to fall unconscious.

Someone's shaking me and pleading with me to wake up. I figure it's one of my foster parents, but that doesn't seem right since I was taken to the hospital. A nurse, doctor, or my parents wouldn't shake me so aggressively after a car accident.

"Grace! Grace, please wake up!" The shaking continues. It's a male voice. Despite the difficulty of the task, I decide to open my eyes and chew this guy out for interrupting my slumber, except what's on the other side of my heavy eyelids is nothing I've seen before. Instead of a pristine, white hospital room, I'm lying on the floor of a dark, concrete cell. Instead of my foster father, I'm being shaken by a worn out looking guy about my age. His thick brown hair is sticking up everywhere, he's got a black eye, and his top lip is busted. I notice that his right eye is brown, and his left is blue. I feel just as bad as he looks. I have no idea who he is, but something about him feels familiar and...safe, almost.