After a tragic event drives her out of little Hillsborough, NC, 19-year-old Meghan Greene finds herself living in a Manhattan apartment with her best friend Chelsea Matthews. Officially enrolled in NYU and wanting to forget about her old life in her...
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Meghan
My head is throbbing. I'm talking someone-must-have-hit-me-with-a-fucking-brick throbbing. My eyelids are heavy, my throat is dry, and my arms feel like noodles.
Noodles.
I'm hungry.
My nostrils are being invaded by the smell of hospital, a smell I know all too well. Why do I smell-
The ring.
The panic attack.
The darkness.
It all comes flooding back in quick flashes.
The ring.
He had a ring.
A whimper escapes my lips as I will my eyes to open. The room is too bright and it takes a couple of seconds before I can fully take in my surroundings. The white walls, the white sheets, the IV in my arm.
The sounds of the machines that regulate my heartbeat start beeping uncontrollably as I fail to catch my breath. The panic starts to set in, the familiarity of the hospital room bringing me back to last summer all over again.
"Miss, please calm down."
I. Can't.
"Meg?!" Chelsea's hands were latched onto my shoulders, shaking me furiously. I met her troubled gaze, worry etched on every single line that decorated her furrowed brows. "Breathe, Meg. Just breathe."
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My eyes are darting all over the room. From Chelsea, to the nurse, to the doctor who is walking through the door, to a panicked Sebastian and back to Chelsea-
"Sebastian?" My breath catches in my throat as I immediately look back over at him. He's leaning against the far wall with his hands in his jacket pockets, his hair is a mess, his eyes are dull and there's one too many frown lines on his forehead.
All the color drains from my face when a small snippet of conversation from earlier worms it's way back into my memory.
"With the injuries she had from her assault, combined with the panic attacks and the severe psychological issues from the loss of-"
"What is he talking about, Chelsea?"
"I told you, it's not my story to tell."
Tears begin to pool at the corners of my eyes and I break away from his unnerving stare. The doctor is writing something on his clipboard before he closes it up and looks up at me with a smile.
"Miss Greene, I'm Dr. Michelson. How're you feeling?" He placed the clipboard under one arm and signaled for a young looking doctor to walk into the room.
