out of the blue | gracie abrams

LIV

liv - crimson red paint.

3rd of July, 2023, Los Angeles

-7:17pm-

Pippa didn't know how long she had been tied up for, or whether it was even still the same day she was first taken. The blinds of Charlotte's bedroom were drawn, and there was no clock in sight.

She was dehydrated, exhausted, both mentally and physically, in excruciating pain, and starving. And she really needed the bathroom.

Wait.

She really needed the bathroom.

"Charlotte," Pippa called out in a groggy voice across the room.

The blonde girl had returned to her spot on the armchair that looked over the bed, wordlessly observing Pippa as she twirled her hair between her fingers.

"Yes, darling girl?" Charlotte answered, standing up and walking over to kneel by Pippa's side so her face was level with hers.

"I need the bathroom," Pippa admitted, "You don't want me to do - you know - on your bed, do you?"

Charlotte's smile faded, her face tensing as her eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. She put a hand around Pippa's neck, ever so slightly squeezing it and reveling in the way the younger girl's eyes seemed to glaze over in fear, the way she could feel her neck constrict in a swallow under her palm.

"You better not try anything funny, sweet Penelope," Charlotte warned, "I swear to god, you'll regret it."

"I won't, I- I promise," Pippa stuttered.

Pippa took a deep breath in, then hesitantly, she confessed;

"I'll agree to your terms, but," She could barely believe the words that were leaving her own mouth, "You have to let me go to the bathroom and not tie me up again when I'm back. I promise I won't run."

"Good girl, that's what I want to hear," Charlotte grinned, her perfectly straight, pearly white teeth somehow looked more menacing in the dark.

Pippa's wrists and ankles were burning in pain, the ropes that previously bound them left angry red marks and it made her feel ever so helpless. Charlotte escorted her to the bathroom down the hall with a cold, firm grip on her waist, ignoring the fact that the scars there still hurt after she opened them up again.

When Pippa was thrown in the bathroom with that same hand, she had never locked a door quicker in her life. She did it silently, to decrease as much suspicion as she could, not a single doubt existed in her mind that Charlotte would blow the damn thing off of its hinges if she wanted to.

Then, Pippa made the mistake of looking in the mirror. She saw the way her face was pale and clammy, dripping with sweat from the shaking, sunken cheeks and dark circles around her eyes didn't help to make her look sane. And, naturally, since she was half naked and freezing cold, she stared at her collarbone, dark purple marks left by Charlotte's teeth decorated the plane of her chest and abdomen, and- the scars.

Every single scar that she had, all of them, on her arms, thighs, hips, ankles, every last one, Charlotte had opened back up with a razor. One cut for every time she squirmed away from her harsh hold, one cut for each whimper of protest that escaped her lips, one cut for each flinch she involuntarily made in an effort to get away from the blonde girl. They'd clotted over by then, but they still hurt more than Pippa cared to admit.

Pippa felt like an animal in a cage. Her initial need for the bathroom was long gone as she stared at her broken body in shame. Charlotte had an innate talent for making everything feel like it was Pippa's own fault.

She keeled over in a silent sob, though, nothing leaked out of her eyes because she had nothing to leak. She hadn't drank anything in probably over twelve hours, and she hadn't eaten anything for longer than she could remember. She hadn't slept since she was drugged, which means she hadn't stopped shaking since then, either.

Then, by some miracle she couldn't quite name but was eternally thankful for...

Nothing could describe the relief she felt when she heard the familiar whir of sirens approaching in the distance, a sound she used to be terrified of more than anything. One she used to associate with hospitals, like when her mother fainted and fell down the stairs one time because she was so weak from her chemotherapy. Or the time the neighbors called the police because they heard crashing sounds from inside the Doves residence, and she had to explain to her father that she wasn't the one who snitched, and she ended up there for the first time since her mother died due to her eye being busted and needing stitches. She fell off her bike, as far as the nurses and doctors were concerned.

Pippa stayed silent, uselessly praying that Charlotte didn't hear them as well. But alas, luck was never on her side.

"You little bitch!" Pippa heard her yell from the other side of the door, "What the fuck did you do?!"

Pippa tried her best to suppress her hyperventilation as the door to the bathroom rocked back and forth from the force of Charlotte trying to break through. Panicking, she stumbled back, tripping and landing in the bathtub with a thud. And since Pippa was so fragile she was already on the verge of breaking, it certainly didn't help that said thud just so happened to be the sound of her head hitting the porcelain.

Maybe it was for the better that she wasn't conscious when Charlotte finally managed to break the lock. Maybe it was for the better that Pippa wasn't awake when the razor she had grown to be uncomfortably close acquaintances with carved long lines down her body in places she was sure Charlotte knew weren't safe. Places she knew she could potentially lose too much blood from.

Maybe it was for the better that she didn't feel the life flow like a river out of her own body, down the drain of the bathtub, as the sound of Charlotte's footsteps disappeared in a hurry.

4th of July, 2023, Los Angeles

-12:21am-

Gracie burned holes in the floor of the hospital waiting room with her eyes. Her hands were intertwined together and tucked in her lap to stop them from shaking. She wasn't sure if she had blinked in the last minute. Her parents were in the cafeteria buying coffee and maybe some food. Gracie refused to leave her seat.

"Gracie, you need to sleep," Katie insisted, sitting down quietly in the chair beside her daughter holding a bagel in a brown paper bag.

Gracie shook her head profusely, her bottom lip trembled as she felt a fresh new wave of tears make their presence known. The sweat that was beading on her forehead made her hair stick to her face.

"Gracie, you can't do anything for her just sitting here," Katie reasoned, "At least eat something honey, please. I brought you this, with the lox, your favorite."

Gracie only continued to stare at the ground. She picked at her nails. At the blood that refused to come out no matter how much she scrubbed her hands under the tap of the hospital bathroom sinks. It stained her shirt, and it stained her soul so much more.

"I don't deserve it," She muttered under her breath, for no one but herself to hear.

-✫★✫-

hello my lovelies!

so that was a lot-

im actually scared of you guys so i might (probably not actually because im lazy) post another chapter tonight so you dont come find me and possibly murdermeinmysleep

ok goodnight! love youuuuuuu

-🍎