Regretting The Chances (Completed)

Chapter 24: Break-up

<<<AJ's POV>>>

I heard my phone ringing and rolled over to pick it up. "H'lo?" I answered.
"Hey AJ, its Logan. Your sister woke up."
"What? Is she okay? Did the surgery go well?"
"It was fine, relax. I just talked to her... She seems to be herself."
"Okay, okay, uh..." I threw on some better, clean ripped jeans and a MyDigitalEscape T-shirt. "Just... Tell her I'll be there in a sec, okay?" I dropped my phone as a hopped with one leg in the jeans. "Fuck!"
I heard Logan laugh, "Good luck!" And hang up.
I picked my phone back up, grabbed Diesel, and snagged a box of Cheese-its from our cupboard. Then I took a taxi to the hospital.

<<<Ashley's POV>>>

I'm not sure how long I laid there, studying the same boring pattern on the ceiling, but finally someone entered my room.
"AJ! Finally! Where the hell were you?!"
She laughed, "I was at home getting some sleep. You okay? How's your leg?"
"Its fine." I flexed it slowly, "Just a little sore."
"I have something to cheer you up!" She sang, and pulled out a box of Cheese-its from behind her back.
"OHMYGOD I HAVE NEEDED THIS FOR LIIIIKE, SO LONG!!!!!" I reached out and grabbed it from her hands and dug my hand in, gratefully eating my orange cruchie food.
AJ laughed at my eagerness.
"Can you believe they don't have cheese-its here? I have literally been dying, AJ, DYING!!!
" Seriously, Ash?" She snickered. "I'm sure you survived."
"Its been horrible. Never put me through that again."
"Okay, god." She placed Diesel on the bed.
"Promise me, AJ."
"Okay, okay, I promise."
"Pinky promise?"
She shook her head with a silly smile on her face, "Yes Ashley... I pinky promise."

***

<<<AJ's POV>>>

(Warning... A bit depressing)

I quietly logged onto Wattpad as Ashley slept on her hospital bed with Diesel on top of her. I scrolled to my messages; one was from Drake! I grinned.
I read the message he had left for me-
Him: we need to talk
Me: about what?
Him: this isn't going to work.
Me: What do u mean?
Him: We shouldn't be together... You're in America, I'm in England. These things never work.
Me: please, we can make it work!
Him: No, listen to me, this can't work. I'm sorry.
Me: Whatever. I don't care anyways!!!

I threw my phone across the room and curled into a ball on the chair, tears leaking down my face. A nurse came in and told me visiting hours were over, and I told her to fuck herself. She made me leave, and I trudged home groggily with Diesel under my arm and tears falling in rivets down my face.
I unlocked our apartment door and flopped on my bed in a huff. Tears fell down my face faster than Diesel could catch them. I grabbed my razor and pried the blade off of the head of it, and sat on the bathroom toilet.
I posed the blade over the exposed skin on my wrist, and whispered: "I hope your happy, fucktard."
After that, my wrist and hips weren't much more than a big, bloody mess. I cut and cut and cut, not feeling the pain, not feeling anything. I screamed my anger out and could hear Diesel's worried scratching at the locked door, but I ignored him.
I felt my head get dizzy; I couldn't see. What was happening? Why couldn't I see straight? Maybe I was dying. Yeah, that had to be it. Honestly, I hoped I was. It wouldn't be a tragedy.
At this point, it'd be a miracle...
A relief.