Playing Games

Chapter 28

OLIVIA POV

I'm tired of being in this hospital. I'm tired of being in this bed. I'm tired of this life that I was forced into.

I'm tired of being tired.

I want to move so I can get up and free myself from this bed, but it still hurts to even shift in a certain direction. Some bruises have gotten lighter and healed slightly, but the sharp pain that radiates throughout my entire abdomen hasn't gone away at all.

The sudden urge to urinate forces me to lift myself from the bed, and I grimace before slowly standing up and moving at a turtles pace to the bathroom. Once I close the door behind me, I don't bother trying to squat like normal to avoid the germs, so I just sit down on the toilet seat.

I'm in a hospital so I know they probably disinfect the toilets every second that they can.

Once I'm finished, I flush and move to the sink so that I can wash my hands. Once I look at my reflection, I cringe. The abrasions and bruises on my face make me look so mangled and disfigured that some people probably wouldn't be able to tell who I am.

I feel a twinge of pain form in my gut as I continue looking at myself. I wish I could tell the future so I would've saved myself from the train wreck that was the relationship I had with Logan.

That son of a bitch is going to hurt Savannah and so many other girls if they aren't smart enough to tell what type of person he is. Logan makes lying and seeming like he loves someone so much look so easy, and it disgusts me.

My whole body still aches and I know that I'll be given some pain medication soon so that I'm not entirely miserable.

I slowly make my way to the bed, wringing when I have to twist my body so that my legs don't hang off the edge. Just as I pull the blanket over me again, I see two people walk into my room, and I'm unable to detect the emotion that has formed inside of me.

My parents.

Why are they here?

How did they even know that I was in the hospital?

My mother looks horrified when she sees me, and her hand is clamped over her mouth like she's trying to prevent any vomit from escaping her mouth. My father just looks pale with worry, and his body is extremely rigid like all of his body parts are made of metal and they need to bent in order to move.

I'm at a loss because I haven't seen them in so long, and they never made an effort to contact me, and neither have I.

They haven't changed at all.

My parents still look identical to the last time I saw them in person, which I can't even remember when that was. No gray hairs, no wrinkles that weren't there before, not even a slight change in their body language.

Still the same.

That makes me grin because all this time and they don't look any different, but then I frown because I know they probably don't act any different. They probably will give me mediocre advice on how to deal with this and just end up going back home and not worrying about me again.

"Honey," Dad croaks, and he clears his throat. "What happened?"

"What does it look like? I was fucking assaulted and nearly killed." I snap, and his eyes widen.

He's never heard me swear before, and neither has my mother, and I'm expecting a bunch of reprimands from them. Instead, they have those shocked looks on their faces.

"Who did this to you?" Mom asks calmly.

I don't feel like explaining anything to them since they hardly did that with me when I was growing up. Everything I had questions about always seemed to annoy them, and it was pushed aside like I was an inconvenience to them.