Take Me Away | ✔️

9. PROBLEM

I WAS STILL BREATHING. That's good, right?

          But why is it that right now, it didn't feel good.

          I had been beaten up growing up, outside and inside of the ring and I was so sure that I've gotten used to pain, I've learned to swallow it but I was wrong. Everything was hurting—my back, my head, my face—even inhaling to breathe was hurting me.

          There was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to stay here until everyone could see how I was badly bruised, wounded, and kicked by a bunch of sophomores who thought that they'd become superior and popular if they follow Christi's orders like a bunch of soldiers who didn't know what they were getting into.

          The blood was everywhere and I didn't know whether it was coming from the wounds or my mouth. Everything was going to be swollen for weeks, I'm going to have to wear a sling around my neck because of the dislocated shoulder, and I'm, for sure, going to be covered with bandages like a fucking mummy in one of the Egyptian tombs.

          Using my un-splattered-to-the-ground-hand, I reached for the phone in my pocket, opening it with my fingerprint. As I was scrolling through my contacts, I heard the door open. Instantly, I dropped my phone on the ground and tried to pull myself up in order to run away.

          "Jesus, fuck!"

          It was Tyler Stone. The relief washing over me made me crumble down to the ground once more, my chest hurting like hell.

          Soon enough, I could hear his footsteps stopping when he reached me, kneeling down with his eyes wandering everywhere.

          "Who the fuck did this to you?" His hands were hovering over me. It felt like he was afraid to touch me, to hurt me.

          I wanted to tell him that I was used to getting hurt.

          But, the humor in everything made me smile and it had hurt. My lips were busted. "I don't—" I wheezed, gasping for air "—think that's the—" wheezed "—important thing right—" wheezed again "—now, don't you think?"

          He was panicking. It was obvious. "Okay, okay, um, I'm going to get you up, okay?"

          Without warning, his arms were around my neck and at the back of my knees, ready to pull me up; but I had groaned out loud when my shoulder hit his chest and he let me go immediately.

          "Shit," he heaved, running his hand through his long hair. "I don't know how I'm going to do this without hurting you."

          For a moment, we gazed at each other and I noticed how the chocolate brown eyes I saw were actually hazel. They looked green and at the same time brown. It was beautiful.

          He was the first one to look away, grabbing his phone. "I'm calling Travis."

          Before I could protest, he had already pressed his phone to his ear. "Can you meet me at the back? Yes, now. Fuck, just get here, you idiot and bring the rest of the guys. It's about Sam. Hurry!"

          "Shouldn't—have done—that," I glared at him. "We're—not okay."

          He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, for the moment, that's the least of my problems when you look like you've been pounded by a meat cleaver."

          Still, I managed a laugh. "Good to know that I don't look good."

          After a few minutes, the door opened and I could hear Travis cursing and running towards me. "What the fuck happened?" He shouted at Tyler.