The Paper Crown

~*Chapter Fifteen*~

((Hi.... so how was your summer? I didn't have a laptop at all this summer which was why I was unable to post chapters. I hate typing them out on my phone because there are so many things wrong about it after I've posted it and- okay. You don't care. Every couple of chapters, I might add in a song because I feel like reading the events that take place with the songs would add more feeling to it. This chapter is very important and addresses a few things which happen with Blakely and her thoughts/feelings. It is also a very depressing chapter which hurt me to write and uhmmm yeah. So... yeah! Enjoy!!))

No.

No, no, no.

That's not right, why would they change the story? Why would they keep records of what I said from six years ago?

None of this makes any sense. There would be no reason for my parents to tell the police something other than what happened before. What would they even fucking say? How did they expect me to know what they said?

Looking around the room, it felt like slow motion. Chairs were scraping against the floor tiles. There was yelling. I faintly heard my name being called. My own body came into focus and I suddenly became hyperaware of myself.

My chest was rising and falling quickly. Arms and hands looked pale and purple-tinted. Cold sweat slipped down my temples and slid down my back. The numb sensation I had just moments before had evaporated, the pain consuming my body. I tried to talk but instead choked and coughed on foaming saliva in my mouth. People in the doctor costumes rushed to my side and I saw the detectives.

Suffocating, sweating, hyperventilating and shaking, I saw the look on the detective's face. For a moment, I thought I saw pain, but I only saw her for a second before she was ushered out. Nurses were holding me down. I screamed out a yelp once before subduing to the shaking.

I blacked out when they started to push me onto my side.

White.

White.

All around me was white again.

Again and again and again and again there was white. To the left, the right. Up, down.

My eyes adjusted as they opened again in the hospital room. It was different this time, not as big and there was only my bed here. Again, there was a nurse who was doing something to the bags that had tubes leading into my arms.

I started coughing, gaining her attention as she helped me sit upright. It hurt again. My rib cage and my lungs and my nose and face and back and arms. I couldn't focus on anything but the fact that I was in pain, yet I managed to see the woman's face. It was the nurse who told me I had been in a coma for eleven years. Her name was Charlotte I think.

She sat herself down on a chair which got pushed next to my bed. I was groggy and opening my eyes hurt, nonetheless, I looked over to the nurse with a smile. It hurt to smile too.

The woman placed her hand on my shoulder before talking. "Do you want to know what happened," she asked quietly. As if a thousand people were listening in to the conversation and she only wanted me to know. As if she thought that if she spoke too loud I would dissipate.

As if she was so unsure if I could handle the information that she asked it quietly, hoping I wouldn't have heard it.

But alas, I did hear it. Nodding my head after a few moments, my voice would be hoarse and if it hurt to smile it would hurt to talk as well. The corners of my mouth didn't falter. Almost like the smile would end up being a shield for all bad things to come my way. Maybe I thought it would mask the actual feelings I would have after she told me.