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I looked down at my hands. There was blood gushing from my arms. And my legs. And my chest. I didn't know whether it was mine or not. 

Pain shot up my spine and down my legs. I fell to the floor. This is all my fault. I couldn't have just kept quiet. I couldn't have just dealt with my own pain. But no, I made things ten times worse. Fear has two meanings;

Forget everything and run.

Or

Face everything and rise.

Stupid me decided to face everything and rise. Little did I know, that was probably the wrong choice. And I was right. It was the wrong choice.  Extremely wrong choice. I know he's dangerous. I know he would hurt me if I didn't follow his commands. And here I am with a knife in my chest. At least that's what it looks like when I looked down at my now red white tank top with something plunged in my chest. Blood dripping down every part of my body. I could hear the faint screams of my aunt. "Danielle! Dani!" But I didn't know if it was real life or not. 

 Everything was getting hazy and blurry and I was getting dizzy. I looked up and saw red and blue lights and felt someone grab me from off the ground. A strong person to be exact. Or maybe it was two people. I didn't know and at this point, I didn't care. All I knew is that I feel like I am dying.

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I woke up to the smell of a hospital. Bet you couldn't guess where I was, then?

If you guessed hospital, you are correct. I'm in the hospital.  What a gross smell that is. I've never been in the hospital before. I kind of just always dealt with my pain. But, of course, I've never really been stabbed before. 

I looked down and saw my arms wrapped up in some gauze and my chest was pretty much exposed. I yanked down the hospital gown covering me, looking around to make sure no one saw my bare torso. 

I snuck a glance down my body. A few inches down and to the left of my belly button was a small gauze patch, with a bit of blood seeping through it. I tried to remember what exactly happened. Why the hell am I all bloody and wrapped up in gauze? I think the pain of not remembering was worse than the pain I felt in my stomach underneath the patch.

"Hello, Danielle Nelson, right?" I looked over, startled, to a nurse walking into the room.

"Correct, can you tell me what happened to me exactly? I don't remember." I looked at her name tag; Jamie.

"Darling, I think maybe you should talk to your mother about that." She looked down guiltily, obviously showing that she doesn't want to tell me about it. Or that it just wasn't her position to be telling me. I don't care who tells me, as long as someone does. And quick. Because I never had a good patience level.

"I don't have a mother."

"Um, I'm sorry. Your aunt, that's it. We'll let her on in." She practically rushed out of the room. I guess I have the tendency to make people uncomfortable. That's not news.

I sighed, which was probably the wrong thing to do because a bolt of pain shot in my side, right where the bloody patch is.

"God!" I yelled and clenched my side. 4 nurses flew into my room and ran to my side.

"Ms. Nelson are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Now can someone please tell me why I am in here!" I yelled, pain shooting through my whole body, causing my tears to fly out of my eyes. 

"Danielle, oh honey," My aunt rushed in as all of the other nurses rushed out.

"Aunt Belle," I responded. 

Tattooed Tears (A Jack Gilinsky Fanfiction) ❤︎Where stories live. Discover now