❀Azalea❀
I rise from my position on the floor slowly making my best attempts not to fall over and injure myself further.
I grip onto the railing of the stairs once I can reach it and on my way to the kitchen, I hold onto anything that I think will keep me standing.
I grip the paper towels on the hook they sit on and only just now realize how bloodied my hands are. I turn and look at the trail of blood I left behind on the railing of the stairs, the wall, and even the couch.
How much am I bleeding? Can you run out?
I catch my reflection in our mirror-like, shiny microwave and I gasp.
The left side of my face is covered in blood, my teeth are red-stained with the blood that drips down my chin, and it breaks my heart all over again.
How could a father do this to their child?
I grab the paper towels and try to wipe the excess blood from my cheek. I can't even get half an inch away from the cut from his ring on my cheekbone; it hurts too bad.
I wipe my chin but the blood from both places still doesn't stop and my tears don't either. Blood soaks the paper towel and I go to grab another.
Every slight movement of my cheek makes me want to stub my toe on something just to have pain somewhere else to take my mind off it.
My movements stop when I hear him coming back down the stairs. Moving as quickly as I can, I grab my car keys off the hook and rush out the door.
Where am I gonna go?
Taco Bell. Shut up, I can't go there. Can I? No.
The hospital is an absolute no-go. Who's got the money for that? Not me. I would if I was a stripper though.
I did come to the conclusion that I need to tell someone. Grey.
I never wanted to break my family up worse than it already is.
But I wasn't wanting to do it so soon. I wanted to not look like I do right now but I guess I don't really have a choice.
I can't necessarily cover this us with makeup.
And I think I need some Jesus and medical assistance because my cheek is still gushing.
I turn on my car and wipe the tears from my eyes to see the road as best as I can.
I probably shouldn't be driving at all in my predicament and considering the wet roads.
But if I do wreck, it sure wouldn't hurt Dad at all. He said the opposite actually.
Whatever happens, happens.
My adrenaline decreases and harsh pain begins to set in. When tears fill my eyes, I blink rapidly to get them cleared.
Whenever I feel my blood dripping off my face, I make sure to wipe it with my sleeve. Why not? This sweatshirt is already covered anyway.
I try to stay calm at red lights, praying that no one will see me and freak out. I haven't fully seen myself but I know there's blood everywhere.
Before I left I should've gotten paper towels but I was just too terrified of Dad seeing me again and maybe continuing.
I park in the closet parking spot you can get to Grey's restaurant/bar/flippin' headquarters for his drug cartel.
I stay wiping my face as close to the gash as I can handle, mostly covering it so people won't see and freak out. Then again, I do have blood all over my sweatshirt but maybe they'll think it's like, tie-dye. Yeah right.
I successfully make it to the entrance. I pull it open and just barely catch the eyes of Jonas.
His eyes widen and he actually looks...really concerned. He's gonna be real concerned when he gets a face full of my bloody sweatshirt sleeve.
I ignore him and walk as quickly as I can into the back, I'd hate to ruin someone's meal by seeing me look gross and bloody.
I wipe my hands as best as I can on my sweatshirt before gripping Grey's door handle and pushing open the door gently, I turn my body away from Grey's desk.
I close the door behind me and stay facing away from him, looking at the door.
"It's 'bout damn time you show up," his voice reaches me and I feel tears leave my eyes.
"Why haven't you been answering?" I hear his spinny chair roll back as he most likely stands. Then I hear his footsteps.
I take the few seconds I have until he reaches me to figure out how I'm going to go about this. What I'm gonna say, that is if I don't break down crying. Which I have a feeling I may do.
I might even be doing that right now. It may be tears and blood that's still gushing.
I need some Frosted Flakes.
"Why are you facing the door?" he questions nearing even closer. I feel his hand on my back and I flinch forward.
"Lilah..?" he grips onto my arm, "what the fuck is on your sleeves?"
I flit my eyes down to my blood-soaked sleeves. And then I turn to him.
He takes a couple of shocked steps back, his eyes widening and his mouth opening a bit. His eyebrows furrow like he can't believe what he's seeing and then he visibly snaps out of it, surging forward to me.
He places his hand on the side of my face without all the damage and he looks all over. My cheekbone, my mouth, my shirt, my sleeves, my tears.
"Oh my God," he whispers in shock. He moves to touch my cheek and I flinch away.
"It hurts," I mumble hushedly, "please don't touch it."
"Who the fuck did this to you?" his voice changes drastically from concerned to deadly. I stay silent, afraid to open my mouth and suddenly ugly cry.
He wipes away the blood about to drip from my jaw.
"You're touching my blood without knowing if I have diseases," I breathe out. Hepatitis or something, I don't know, I'm not a scientist.
"Who fucking did it Azalea?" he demands and I verbally freeze. After so long of keeping it to myself and not telling a single soul, I find it hard to just say it.
He pulls away from me I catch his tensed body, clenched jaw, and bawled fists. And I feel bad about not being able to just freaking say it.
I hold back a gasp when he suddenly grips the edge of his desk and flips the entire thing.
Oh no, the iMac. What about my movies?
He picks up his chair and he throws it clean across the room. I flinch as it hits the wall loudly, breaking into dozens of different pieces.
Watch out, we've got Hulk over here. Except he's gray instead of green, 'cause his name is Grey- stop.
He walks back over to me his chest rising and falling quick. He pulls me away from the door and in front of him. He wipes more blood only for it to return not even a second later.
"You need to tell me that it is who I think it is," he says lowly and I let out a sob. Of course he pretty much already knows.
"I can take care of it Lilah, I promise. You need to tell me. I can't do anything if you don't tell me," he pleads just before the door to his office opens harshly.
Jai steps in looking at all the damage. His eyes find me and they widen in great concern. Then they fall on Grey and Grey's bloodied hand from wiping my face.
"What the fuck did you do?" Jai sneers to Grey and my eyes widen. Oh gosh, it does look bad.
"You think I did this to her?" Grey growls out.
"It doesn't look to be in your goddamn favor Grey," Jai walks toward us.
"That's fresh," he tilts my face to him, pointing at it.
Pointing is rude.
My blood drips onto his hand and I internally cry harder.
He grips Grey's arm and lifts his bloody hand and bloody knuckles from where the excessive blood dripped onto all parts of his hand.
Grey jerks his arm away.
He doesn't like people to touch him.
"He didn't do it," I speak up shaking my head softly.
"Azalea," Jai starts, "you don't have to defend hi-"
"What the shit?" Lincoln walks in, "What are you two fucking doing?!"
Lincoln pulls me to him seeing a scene that looks even worse. My face all fudged up, Grey with my blood on his hands, and Jai with my blood on his hands.
"Linc," I start and he places his hand on the side of my face, searching over the gash and my lip, "they didn't-"
"Oh my fucking God!" Theo runs in, his eyes darting all over the place, "what the hell are y'all doing to her?!"
This is getting ridiculous. I should probably be getting some type of medical attention but everyone is too busy trying to blame someone else.
"Shut the fuck up!" Grey sneers loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Like you can say shit, you woman-beater!" Jai shouts and I gasp.
I caused them to hate each other. Everything's my fault. I should've just never come here and waited for these injuries to heal themselves.
"Excuse me Jai!" Theo yells, "you can't say shit! Look at you, blood all over your fucking hands!"
"I came in here after I heard that loud noise and here Grey is, he flipped the whole damn place upside down and his knuckles are all bloody!" Jai points an accusing finger at Grey.
Where's Dr. Weiner, or whatever his name is when you need him?
"I would never put my fucking hands on her," Grey shoves him back into the wall.
"He didn't hit me," I attempt but it can't be heard over their arguing. I begin feeling lightheaded and I try to take deep breaths.
If I pass out and hit my head on the way down, I'm suing everyone in this room.
"That's not what it looks like!" Lincoln inputs, "both of y'all have bloody knuckles, you both hit her."
Have I lost too much blood? It feels like I have.
"Hell no! It looks like all three of you hit her," Theo chimes in loudly.
"No," my voice only comes out as a whisper as I start feeling even fainter.
"Grey," I try calling out but he doesn't hear me the first time.
"Grey," I say as loud as my body will let me. His head whips over to me as my head struggles to stay upright.
I fall back against the wall behind me, barely being able to react to the pain it causes on my back.
Grey rushes over to me and conversation stops.
"Call Karter," he demands.
~~~
I wake up to the sound of my own stomach grumbling. My face hurts, my lips hurt, my back hurts, I have to fart, I have to pee, I'm hungry, I need to crack my butt-bone, and my mother trucking fingernail polish came off a little bit on one nail.
I'm driving the struggle bus.
I open my eyes and find what looks similar to a hospital room. I look to the side of my bed and see the blood pouch thingy that I remember vividly from the accident stands beside me.
I knew I was losing too much.
At least this room isn't nearly as ugly decorated as hospital rooms. It's got style.
The door opens and Grey walks through. It takes him a second to look up at me and when he does his face visibly relaxes.
I move my hand up and touch my face, I nearly throw up at the pain that explodes in my cheek when I do but I feel stitches.
Stitches. What a bad-butt I am.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, the lip which got most of the blow, and I find it's got a huge bump from where it was busted open.
"Am I so pretty?" I mumble sarcastically, pronouncing the t's in 'pretty' so goodly. Obviously not. I look like Frankenstein I bet. Well actually, Frankenstein's monster. Frankenstein was the doctor who made the monster.
"Always," he takes a seat on the side of my bed, tucking my hair behind my ear.
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"No, it's not, shut up," he lifts my hand kissing the top of it.
"Who got to see my amazing bod' when they put me in this?" I wiggle my brows looking down at the new sweatshirt that I'm wearing.
Oh my Jesus Christ in the morning. I'm not wearing a bra.
"Somebody got to see some seriously good stuff, let me tell you, was it you, you little hooker? You got to see it all. I mean all," I ramble.
"Karter's wife," he says and I nod. He missed out. And I missed out on making a mother trucking friend, too busy being stupidly passed out.
I feel like my legs could run a mile. Just my legs.
"What drugs am I on? Can we turn the dosage up? My face hurts like an elephant just stomped on it," I groan.
"Karter get the fuck in here," Grey's lovely language just lights up my life. Karter, aka, Dr. Weiner, waltzes in.
"Which amazing drug has my mind feeling great? Did you give me crack?"
"Are you an addict?" he questions.
"I like drugs."
I look at Weiner. He looks at me. I wink at him. Then wink nonstop about 11 more times.
"Is she having a seizure?" Wiener questions.
"You're the doctor, WeinerMan," I tell him, winking once more and making a clicking sound with my mouth.
"Baby, what the hell are you doing?" Grey grips my chin, turning my face toward him.
"I'll wink at you too," I wink at him. Then make the same clicking sound four times. Grey smiles. He smiles at me. A real good smile.
It bakes my flipping beans.
"Hey Weeny," I look at Weiner. He looks at me. I wink at him, make the clicking sound, and kiss my middle finger then show it to him.
"Jesus fuck, Lilah," Grey grips onto the finger and pushes my hand back down.
"What?" I question. I didn't do anything wrong.
With my other hand I raise my middle finger to Grey. I draw a heart in the air with the finger. If I drew the heart on paper it would be purple because I would like it to be.
He grabs that finger, releasing my other hand. His face breaks out into a smile and he lets out a beautiful, deep, and melodic laugh.
"You gave her some good shit," he leans to me kissed my temple.
"He did give me good shit," I nod holding my fist out so Weiner can give me a fist bump.
"Azalea!" Grey looks at me, his eyes wide, "don't say that word."
"Shit, my bad," I tell him.
"Holy fuck. I can't believe you said that," Grey chuckles then pauses, "don't say that word, got it?"
"Got it fu-" he places his hand over my mouth.
Weiner appears to be appalled. I pull away from Grey remembering my face hurts.
"Listen here Dr. Wenis, my face hurts give me some more pain meds please and thank you. And you should throw in some LSD."
"Dear God," Karter shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Oh hey, can I sit up? My back hurts," I grunt.
"I guess-" Karter starts.
"You guess? Oh gosh, you aren't even a real doctor, are you? Are my stitches on the correct side of my face Grey?"
"No," he tells me seriously but I can tell he's kidding because I'm on drugs. Hopefully.
"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?" Karter asks.
I don't even know who I am. Let alone what numbers are.
"Who's asking?" I narrow my eyes suspiciously.
"What?- Azalea do you hurt?" he chuckles.
"I'm about to have a heart attack if you don't let me sit up," I warn.
"You can sit up," Karter nods.
I try to sit up, it may not look like it because I don't move, but I tried.
"Somebody pull me up," I reach out and Karter pulls me up.
"My back's on fire," I groan and Karter's eyebrows furrow.
"Why?"
"You didn't see it?" I furrow my eyebrows.
"See what?" Grey asks suspiciously.
"My killer boobi-" Grey grips onto my hipbone and I thrash.
"Ouch, crackhead," I raise my fists like I'm gonna fight him.
Man, I feel good. Tired, weak, and smexy.
"Grey, look," I motion to my back. He pulls up the back of my sweatshirt and I feel him tense.
Karter moves to the side and he looks too. I just close my eyes and let a sigh escape. After forever of hiding that, it feels kind of relieving to show it.
"I'll be back," Karter leaves the room and Grey lowers my shirt. I look over to him.
"Azalea, tell me," he sighs.
"You already know who Grey," I say defeatedly.
"Your dad," he states. I feel stupid emotions creeping up on me.
"I'm sorry," I bite my wiggling lip.
"For keeping it from you after we made that agreement to not keep anything from each other. I kept the biggest possible thing from you."
He leans over and kisses the side of my head.
"I don't want my dad to go to jail. My family is already messed up enough, I don't want it to get worse," I sniffle.
"But you know what's gonna happen now," he keeps his voice calm and quiet. He's going to prison.
"The fucker's going to prison, not jail," he nods and I sigh.
"I know," I whisper.
"You need to tell me what happened," he smooths down the back of my hair from where I was laying.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
"He calls me a murderer," I start, "he says that I killed Jake. And that it should've been me who died, instead of him."
"For some reason, I just couldn't stand hearing it anymore. I told him I didn't kill him. He went off."
"He's never punched me before but he did. He always wears his class ring on his middle finger and that's what did that," I point to the stitches on my cheekbone.
"And then when I was on the ground, he kneed me in the mouth," Grey wipes the tear under my eye.
"You didn't blackout, you remember it all?"
"He's a freakin' weakling, he couldn't even knock me out. Loser. I'm The Rock, you can't knock me out," I pat my chest.
Grey's dating The Rock reincarnated as a small woman/child.
"I almost passed out," I simmer down.
"What about your back?" he says and I sigh, looking over at his beautiful dark eyes.
"He started hitting me with his belt about a year ago. It's gotten worse. Harder, and more hits for smaller things," I explain.
"Like when he finds out you're with me," he whispers.
"Yeah," I hesitate.
"I should've fucking seen it before," he curses and I shake my head.
"Don't shake your head," he argues, "that time when you wouldn't let me touch your back. How fucking stupid could I have been?"
"Grey-"
"And that bruise on your cheek the first time you stayed at my place, fuck," his jaw tenses.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore," I criss-cross applesauce my legs.
"I'm hungry," I grumble.
"Jonas' bringing pizza," he shoves his hand under my sweatshirt. Is he gonna feel me up? Go ahead.
"Jonas? He'll probably poison my pizza," I groan.
"You'll be fine," he kicks his boots off and gets the rest of the way onto my bed.
I'll be fine? Excuse me? Tell that to the poison control center.
"Yes, go ahead, take up more than half of my bed, you're welcome," I pat his back. He scoots right up next to me and he lays down. Trying my best to get comfortable, I lay my head where his arm meets his shoulder.
His cold, gargantuan hand comes to rest under my sweatshirt and on my bare stomach. I wiggle a bit and sigh at the uncomfortable feeling my jeans are leaving me in.
Who the heck let me sleep in these?
I force my hands under the covers and I unbutton my pants, and I let out a sigh once they're unbuttoned.
"Is that an invite?" his hand travels lower.
"An invite to where? Can I come?" I get a little excited. We best be talking about a party. I'm ready to party.
"Fuck," he whispers. He places a gentle kiss on my non-Frankenstein-monster cheek.
"Why'd you unbutton your pants?" he sighs.
"I'm a bit of a chunk so they were digging into my stomach," I pull up my sweatshirt, showing him the mark my pants made on my stomach.
"Shut up," he glances at me unhappily. I lay down carefully and sigh.
"I'd never hurt you, you know that?" he kisses my temple.
"I know," I smile softly, "I can't believe Jai thought you did this to me."
"Just wait 'till he comes in here," his voice takes on a playful tone.
"I won't hurt you either, y'know," I chime, "I'll make sure to never headbutt you since you don't know how to dodge them."
"Goddammit."
"It's okay Grey, we all have weaknesses," I speak therapeutically.
~~~
I finish the last slice of pizza and Jai applauds me, his bruised face and all. I guess that's what Grey was talking about.
Grey hasn't moved since he got in my bed. I still don't know where I am but I could care less as long as he's here with me.
I'm in love.
No question.
No 'right?' at the end of the sentence.
I'm fully in love with him.
There was no big realization. I just took a huge bite of my pizza and looked over to see him giving me a little smile and I thought it like it was a 043normal thought.
'I love him' was all there was to it.
Of course, I haven't said it aloud yet. I'm still a little droopy in talking but not in thinking. I wouldn't want him to not believe it.
Anyone who still wants to be around me after seeing what I'm like when I'm by myself deserves an award. In Grey's case, that award is my wonderful love and affection, and butt smacks, and sex jokes, and all my body's scars, and my odd music taste, and my pizza-eating skills, and most importantly my boobies that are maybe a little small, but fine to him.
"How're you feeling Azalea?" Karter questions, stopping beside the bed. He leans down and raises his hand to my face.
"If you touch me, I'll rip your hand off," I scrunch my nose.
"What she said," Grey nods his head in my direction.
I love you.
"Y'all are an evil couple. Evil," he stresses.
"I'm not," I give him an innocent smile.
"It's five-thirty," Jai peers over at the clock on the wall.
Grey's demeanor changes completely and a glare settles onto his face. Not at anyone in particular but it's just there.
I know what has to happen now. And I know that my life will never be the same.
Dad's going away.
"You have to go?" I question softly. Grey's features lighten a bit when he looks down at me.
"Only for a little while," he begins putting his boots back on.
"I don't want to sit here anymore," I say, "I need to be active."
"You need to rest," Grey deadpans and I scrunch my nose at him.
"I need to get my hyper energy out," I explain.
"Run horizontally," Jai chimes in the idea.
"She's not talking about that kind of active," Grey grumbles, knowing me too well.
My 'active' is walking around and interacting. Other 'active' is running and working out. Ew.
I sit up fully. I can't just sit here.
I start getting up, Grey pushes me back down gently by pressing his monstrous hand on my forehead.
"Grey," I groan, sitting up again.
"Azalea," he warns, pushing me down again.
"I'm going to throat-punch you," I glare.
"Do it," he gets closer, his eyes narrowing. I crack my knuckles.
"It's gonna hurt," I warn, nodding my head.
"Go ahead," He keeps on. I love you.
"I don't want to hurt you," I let a smile onto my lips. He places his fingers under my chin and he brings my lips to his.
I melt. Even though my lip feels like it's falling off, I could care less.
"I wouldn't recommend kissing," Karter mumbles.
Grey pulls away.
"Fuck off."
"Hush wiener," Grey and I speak at the same time.
I really love him.
~~~
ϟ Grey ϟ
Jai knocks on the front door of the house. The fucks all came to a decision to not let me be the first person her dad sees.
Like they own me or some bullshit. But I agreed when they brought Lilah up. Goddammit.
The door opens.
"Can I help you?" He slurs but tries to hide as drunk as he is. He's drunk as fuck.
He's so drunk he doesn't remember who I am.
"Oh yes you can," Jai plasters on a fake smile.
Jai reaches around to the pocket of his pants.
"Goddammit. Where the hell did I put my handcuffs?" He curses. Dumb motherfucker.
Jackson Carson turns and he starts running. Which is to be expected. Slow fuck.
I grab the back of his shirt and I yank him back into the wall beside the door.
"This is illegal!" He shouts.
I send an elbow to his face and he falls, leaning up against the wall.
"I did nothing!" He sneers, blood dripping out of his nose. He sends his head forward and it clashes against my nose.
Why the fuck can't I dodge a headbutt?
I feel my nose start to bleed and that only makes me angrier.
And then he freezes.
"I know you," he says.
"Y'all aren't cops. You're a gang!" He shouts, "You're that punk who's been messing with my child!"
She's not a fucking child.
"The woman you've been putting your hands on?" I sneer.
"She's no woman," he scoffs.
"You're no fucking father," Theo starts to charge for him, only to be pulled back by Jai.
Theo's been through shit with abusive parents. He grew up an orphan and he'd gone through some fucked up houses.
That's actually how we found him and how he came to join our shit. But he's also a fucking dumb ass at times. Not at times, most of the time.
So is everyone else. And Lilah, she's just fucking oblivious to what the hell is going on, bless her goddamn heart.
"What's going on?" A quiet voice asks, walking down the stairs. Azalea's mom.
"Mrs. Carson," Jai smiles, "we're apart of the FAA, and we're here to bring your husband into custody."
"They don't have a fucking warrant, Marianne!" He shouts.
If I had a fucking dollar for every time a motherfucker said this shit, I'd be richer than the richest fuck on earth.
"They've pulled their guns on me! Call the real police!" he continues on his pitiful shouts. I look around to the two other guys in the room. Obviously, their hands are empty.
Marianne continues walking down the stairs and the closer she gets, the more visible her bruises are.
"Sick motherfucker," I toss him on the ground.
"I'm not resisting," he resists, wiggling around like a fucking fish out of water. I back away from him, making him look even more like a fucking idiot.
If I could kill him, I would.
Theo walks with Marianne outside just as Jackson is jumping up.
"She snitched, huh?" he catches his breath.
"Nah, the fucking gash she had on her face told us all we needed to know," I glare.
"How'd it go again?" I ask.
"Wasn't it a punch that did it?" Jai goes along.
"Yeah," I nod, taking the Jai's class ring he lent me just for this occasion, "and the ring was on which finger again?"
"Pretty sure it was the middle," Jai nods and I slip it on my middle. In the corner of my eye, I see him start to try and run.
Well, that's not fair. Lilah couldn't run.
I kick his back and he falls into the railing. He grabs onto his leg and lets out a shout of pain.
I look along the railing and the wall. Dried blood remains on the walls and I know it's hers. I grab him by his shirt and lift him to his feet.
"Now you can't run, motherfucker."
As soon as he turns his head and he looks at me, I drive my fist into the side of his face. Not hard enough to knock him out. But he'll need stitches. I let him fall.
I wouldn't want to knock him out. If he's out, he won't be able to feel the pain.
"What'd you do next, Jackson?" I hum. He grumbles unintelligibly.
I look up at the ceiling in thought.
"K-Kneed her," he finally utters.
"That's what I thought," Jai chides, "It was either that or another punch."
I knee him in the mouth. Harder than he kneed her. Good. In prison, he'll be missing a few teeth.
I bend down next to him.
"You're gonna rot in prison," I grip the hair on his head and tilt his head back, "and after that, you'll rot in fucking hell."
It's not about just sending this motherfucker to prison. It's fucking retaliation.
No one will ever lay their hands on her again.
I send the side of his face another jab, following it, I slam his face into the ground.
I could lose my position because of it but I don't give a fuck. Azalea is worth more than a job position. She means more than anything, I don't know why or how, but she does.
I'd give up whatever she wanted me to just so I can still see her fucking smile and to hear her voice when she calls me Sugar.
Fuck that name. But she's happy when I let her call me it.
What am I feeling?
♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦♢ ♦
Thank you for reading! These last two chapters have taken me a little while to write. It's a sensitive subject and I wanted to go about it the right way to truly portray the characters in the way I thought they should be.
*Not edited*
Word count: 4929
-Ashlyn Montgomery