Ella Stolen

7: Ella

Authors note:

Hey guys! This is one of my longer updates and sorry for the filler chapters. The story is starting to speed up now and will really kick off in the next two updates I think... As always, thanks for reading!

Please read, vote, and comment! I can always use help editing.

Also, who's your favorite character at this point? I made them so that no one is perfect, they all have faults but every person will warm up to you before long.

Thanksss,

Mo :)

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ELLA

"Ella!!!" Chelsea screams at me through my phone speakers.

"Woah, loud noise. What's up?" I ask.

"Dominick invited me to come to his party on Friday and told me to tell you that you're invited too,"

"Holy shit his parties are the best! We need to bring anything?"

"Nah he's all excited about this new supplier. Says he has really good deals. It's kinda creepy though because his old guy just kinda disappeared..."

"Probably rehab,"

"Yeah, probably. Oh I can't wait for Friday now,"

"Yesssss. I need to get wasted, I'm too damn stressed. I even managed to convince myself that I'm being followed," I instantly regret saying that as Chelsea stares at me in horror.

"Wait... What?" She asks.

"It's nothing. I'm just being a freak," I reassure her.

"I would let that go if you weren't in critical condition in a hospital for weeks. Just keep an eye out, okay?"

"I will. I promise. I just don't want to even think about it,"

"Okay, I understand,"

"Thanks girl," I say to Chelsea before saying goodbye and hanging up.

I sit on my bed, painting my toes on top of some old magazine. Black polish splatters over the cover image of some preppy model. I laugh to myself as it covers her mouth and I put little Xs over her eyes. The article talks about the best way to keep yourself safe at night. I find the whole thing ridiculous. How many times did I learn those same tips? We heard them over and over in school yet they did nothing for me. Keeping pepper spray in your purse does nothing when your attacker strikes you from behind. The doctors told me over and over that it's not my fault. They said that based on circumstances, there was nothing I could have done. Basically fate screwed me over.

It's Thursday afternoon and I'm driving to my doctors appointment. The past couple school days have been pretty easy and no real drama. There was one fight out in the parking lot when school let out but that was it. Any time someone asks about the accident I avoid the answer as best as possible. Apparently there was a story in the newspaper about me. It was small thank god but still got publicity. Everyone focuses in on my drama as if they don't have enough of their own. I don't like people digging into my life. It makes me paranoid. I haven't noticed the black SUV since that one time outside cvs but I still get the feeling that I'm being followed... It makes me feel as if I'm going crazy. Maybe this appointment will give me some answers, though.

The doctors office is in the city. My usual place is in town but this office specializes in head trauma. The drive takes about thirty minutes; thirty minutes of total stress on my part. I listen to music the whole ride and hum along to keep the nerves at bay. Satellite by Guster comes on and finally I can unclench my muscles. When I finally arrive, I head to the super modern reception desk. The lady seems friendly enough as she gives me a form to fill in. I frown as I look over the questions. Do I answer truthfully? Do I even know the answer? I go with 'no, I've never done drugs' but 'yes, I've had sex'. I can't remember having had sex but somewhere inside I know I have. I don't even bother fighting my memories before my mind gets investigated.