Strings (1 of 2)

Chapter 59 - Accidents Past

[Emily's POV]

I wake up to the burn of the stinging from my sweatpants on my skinned knees and calves. My head has a dull ache that hasn't gone away since the accident - like the longest tension headache that has ever existed. The doctors told me that was expected, that I should be grateful that's all it is. 

I don't feel grateful, though.

I'm tired. Emotionally and mentally worn out from the past 24 hours - hell, the past three months. Anytime I feel the slightest bit of happiness, something comes to pull the rug out from beneath me.

I was doing fine before my mother's book launch party in May. I had just been accepted to NYU. I had found my apartment. My life was moving forward... finally.

Then I saw Dean.

After I made up with him, I was happy with Nathan. No. More than happy. Alive.

Then we fought at the bar and I took the pills, which led to me breaking Dean's heart - and mine - once again.

Nathan and I became exclusive. I let him in. I told him about my past. I took down my wall.

Then I have to break Dean's heart again and get thrown across the pavement by some stranger.

How is that fair? How has anything over this past summer been fair?

My life is a series of happy moments and a following then every time.

Can't get a second of peace? Of bliss? Of quiet?

Even just a week of nothing. 

But no. I just have to be stuck in this endless cycle of waiting for the next shoe to drop.

I rub my eyes and check my phone on the nightstand beside me.

7pm.

I slept the whole afternoon. 

Shit, I don't even remember if I ate today. We never made it to breakfast...

My stomach gurgles at the thought and I sigh. I guess that answers that.

I get up slowly from the bed, my limbs still aching from the impact on the concrete. I groan and stretch my right hand up with a yawn.

As I walk downstairs, I can hear the increasing sound of my father screaming on the phone and muffled sobbing from somewhere closer. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I spot my mother sitting cross-legged on the couch, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Her chest moves up and down rapidly as she cries.

"Mom, what's wrong?" I rush over and sit beside her, pulling her reluctant hands down with my free hand.

She looks up at me and stares at me intently, her eyes roaming over my face to take in the cuts. Her mascara and black eyeliner is stained down her cheeks. I have never seen her look so improper and unhinged. She's always so put together and poised. 

She places her palms at the sides of my head against my hair, holding me there tightly as if she thinks that will mend me.

"I'm okay," I reassure her and she just blinks at me, trying to stifle her sobs in her throat.

"The police told us what happened." She croaks out over the sound of my father still screaming from his office. "He's talking to them now. Trying to get answers." She explains and I nod to appease her. Does it matter to me if they find whoever hit me? No... I still have this broken wrist either way. I won't even be able to type properly with this cast on. Not enough to write, especially for school coming up.