My eyes refused to open. Staying open for merely a second then blinking shut again. My mouth was dry, my tongue felt like sand paper. I coughed softly. I mumbled something incoherently and dug my face into my pillow. Why do I feel so horrible? I thought to myself. I squirmed under the sudden pain that radiated through the back of my leg when I tried to move. Still as could be I tried to remember what happened to my leg. Why was it hurting so much? It was quiet. So quiet that I could hear my faint heart beat over a quiet sigh that escaped my lips. Wait, that wasn’t me. There was someone else in my room.
I sat up in start. Suddenly on full alert, looking wildly around my room. The sudden movement causing me to wither up against the wall behind me, as pain coursed through my leg. None the less my mind was a mile a minute trying to find the source of the sigh. My eyes focused on a shape, a person sitting directly in front of me on a chair. He had his head bent down and the palms of his hands pressed to his eyes. His back rose and fell as he breathed. It was Jason.
What was he doing here?
But before the question could even be processed, my brain threw back images and memories at me. I had smashed my car and I thrown a chair through a window. Broken all the plates and cups. I had taken the drugs Steven had given me. I remember popping them—all of them—into my mouth. But why? There was a gutrenching feeling deep inside me, and I felt the urge to throw up. Why was I feeling so… broken? I needed to talk to my mom. It would help.
Then it hit me. Knocking the wind out of me as realization kicked in. Last night’s event played over in my mind over and over. Every horrible detail, every soul killing emotion. I felt myself curdle into nothing, and a whimper escaped my lips. Jason’s head snapped up and he looked at me through his tired eyes. I didn’t look at him. My hands were shaking, I looked down at them. My palms were bandaged tightly, but you could just see a faint blood stain under the numerous layers. I looked up and saw Jason looking back at me, quiet. Only my whimpers were audible.
“I had the window fixed and your car towed to a repair shop.” His voice was low and tired.
“Since when do you give a shit about anything to do with me?” There was a deep root of anger inside me. He had no right to be here! If he hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t be ali—I wouldn’t be feeling like this! “Don’t you have some slut you’d rather be with?” I hissed.
He continued to talk as if he hadn’t heard what I’d just said “I stayed over to keep an eye on you. To make sure you were okay.”
“I don’t need you to keep an eye on me!” I snapped. “I don’t need you!”
Jason's eyes hardened and I saw his jaw clench. “Yes you do Leila! Yes you fucking do.” His voice was heavy with anger and frustration. “Look at this!” he grabbed my wrist and pulled up my hand so I could see it. “Look at this!” he pulled back my covers and exposed the bandage wrapped around one of my thigh. “There was a shard of glass almost the size of my hand stuck in your leg. You did this to yourself Leila!”
I opened my mouth to reply but he cut me off holding my face so that I would look him in the eyes. “You took God knows how many pills yesterday. If I hadn’t made you spit them out you would have overdosed and died! Died! Is that what you want, huh?” he let go of me and paced away quickly then turning back in flash of anger after kicking in my closet door.
“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone you love die on you!” I yelled at him. Tears streamed down my face.
“No! No! You don’t know what it’s like to have someone you love want to die on you!” Jason dragged his hand down his face and with lighting speed turned around and kicked at the broken door one last time. “Why Leila?!”
YOU ARE READING
"She traced her hands across the tiled walls, hoping, praying that if she occupied herself enough, time would pass and she would be able to get out. Out of these tiled rooms, cold walls and empty hallways. " Leila Kings is a teenage girl who goes of...