Beautiful Mistakes

Chapter 23

Camille's P.O.V

I close my bedroom door, not exactly locking it but closing it since some feeling is telling me Damon will very soon walk in.

Not that I want him in here,

No!?

It's just that... that.. aah..

Fucking whatever.....

I push myself from the door still leaving it unlocked as I walk to my bathroom holding my arm.

And fuck it really does hurt fucking bad.

I stand in front the mirror getting the sight of me.

Holy hell thank God Vel was asleep cause if she got a glimpse of me, she would be scared and disturbed by it.

My face, neck, shirt and jacket are all soaked in blood. It looks like I went for a dip in a blood bath. Most of the blood is from my chin down to my shirt soaking it up to a point that the shirt is clutch to my chest.

The fucker did have lots of blood.

Still....

Disgusting.

I put my hand under the tap leaning in a little as I wash the blood off my face. Not all of it comes off but I am pleased that my face seems the least bit clean.

I move to remove my jacket almost screaming from moving my hand. I stop the action and bite down on my tongue to stop the scream that was about to come out.

I give it some time before I stare at my arm and my figure in the mirror feeling further disgusted by how I look. I lower my head from my view.

I take out my left hand and bring its sleeve to my mouth choosing to bite down on it as I pull off the jacket fully from my injured arm.

Three..

Two..

One..

I bite down harder on my jacket faintly screaming and whimpering as I use my left hand to pull down my jacket.

Tears pile up in my eyes my head leaned on the mirror as I clutch my arm dropping the jacket to the ground as a heavy pain filled breath leaves my mouth.

I clutch it tightly as the pain fails to reduce making my torture worse. I knew moving my arm was a bad idea, but if the jacket is this paining what of this shirt...

I swallow hard as I stare back at my body as I move my left hand to try and pull out the shirt but failing.

I try pulling it from down, I try removing my left hand through pulling it back into the shirt but all my methods hurt since the shirt is still finding a way to press on my injured shoulder.

I almost cry from my struggle but still nothing.

You need help...

You can't get it done by yourself.

I groan from my inner thoughts and try again still failing and increasing the pain in my hand.

Help?!.

My inner thoughts silently shout out as I fail to injure my ego from asking for any help. I don't want to cut this shirt too, it is one of my many best black shirts.

I go to lean to pick my jacket but stop when the pain from stretching my muscles all runs up to my shot shoulder.

"Aaaah!.." I silently gasp scream as I stop closing my eyes from the fact that I might just cry right now from pain.