How My Life Was Saved-Completed

Chapter Eleven

I woke up laying down in Grygh's bed. My arms were hurting. When I tried to move it hurt even worse. "Don't try to move," Holen instructed, "you'll hurt even worse."

"Why do I feel sick?" I muttered, "and why do I hurt so bad?"

"Well I don't know why you feel sick," he replied, "and it hurts because you might have some fractured bones."

"Well can we go to the doctor," I asked, "or can you at least you hand me my phone?"

"I can hand you your phone but I can't take you to the doctors," he answered tossing me my phone.

When I turned it on I saw over 500 missed calls and none of them were from my parents. At least 75% of them were from Beckett. I am so grounded when I get home. I call Beckett and when he answered all I heard was screaming and cussing. "Beckett, slow down and talk," I begged, "I can't understand what you are saying."

"Alessa Jane Nealen, where in the fucking word have you fucking been," he yelled through the phone, "get your ass home right now or I swear to god that you wish you weren't alive."

"Beckett, calm down,'' I begged, "just give me awhile to get things figured out. Plus you aren't my father."

"You need to get home right now or you'll be grounded," he said, "I might not be our parent but I don't think Mom and Dad would be happy with if I called them."

He knew bring Mom and Dad up would freak me out. They are never home and if we ever call them they get pissed. They don't like being messed with. Especially by Beckett and I. We were both mistakes that they didn't have the heart to abort us. Their parents wouldn't even let them put us up for adoption. Honestly if you ask me being in foster homes would probably be better then living with them. At least I would have someone around most of the time to help me. "They'll murder us both if you call them," I yelled, "and we both don't want to deal with them."

"I'll deal with them if it means my little sister is safe and at home with me," he whispered, "I don't care if those assholes try to fucking murder me if I have my sister with me everything will be fine."

Tears started to stream down my face. I love my brother. He is the only person that I can rely on. We've always had each other and that is the way it has always been. "I'll be home in a bit," I whispered, "bye I love you."

"Bye I love you too," he whispered hanging up.

Grygh walked into the room and started to walk towards me. He must have saw the tears falling from my face because he stopped in place. "I'm going home," I say as I started to think of being on the porch. As I started to travel Grygh jumped and grabbed onto me.

I landed on the porch on my feet while Grygh landed on the ground next to me. He let go of me and said, "I'll stay out here to see if any trouble is coming. I'll fare warn you if there is so you can get your brother and you out of here safely."

"Thanks," I whispered opening the door up.

When I stepped in Beckett engulfed me in a bear hug. When he finally released me he saw all the bruises and cuts. "God dammit, Alessa," he muttered, "what happened to you."

"I got in a fight," I lied. Technically I wasn't lying because I did get into a fight but I can't nessacerly tell him everything. "You should see the other person," I joked.

"Alessa, you can't even throw a proper punch," he stated, "so how can the other person be worse than you."

"Ummm, I don't know," I mumbled, "but I did get into a fight."

"Why are their hand prints all over you?" he questioned, "Who is the fucking asshole that did this to you?"

"You wouldn't know her," I muttered, "it was just one of my friends."

"Seriously, Alessa," he yelled, "it was a girls hand print on your arms. That's a fucking lie. Lift up your shirt and let me see your back." I lift my shirt up and turn around. When he saw my back he hit something. I pull my shirt down and turn around and see glass everywhere. It was a picture frame with our family photo. When we still actually a family. "Jesus Christ, Alessa, you better tell me who did this to you or I'm calling Mom and Dad."

I felt all the color drain from my face. It was a mistake to come back here, I thought to myself, I should've known that he would react this way. He always does when I get hurt. "It's really no big deal," I say trying to convince him but he was already on the phone. "Who are you calling?"

"A few friends," he says, "I would never call Mom and Dad. I know how much it hurts you to see them."

"Why are you calling your friends?"

"So we can figure out the guy that did that to you."

"It's really no big deal. I'm perfectly fine."

"Hey, Jake, can you come over right now?"

He continued calling all his football buddies. At about ten p.m. the all showed up. I went to my room and hanged out there. I already know what they all were going to do. They all pretty much are my older brothers and they all hate seeing me hurt. Well now I'm going to end up confessing who it was. "Alessa, get your ass down here," Clay yelled.

I grabbed my hoodie and headed downstairs. I made sure to put on a hoodie to cover up all the bruises, hand prints, and cuts. They don't know why they were called here but they do know it has something to with me because they all never get called over here all at once. They mostly only go over Colton's house because of how much room they have over there. "Alessa, hoodie off," Beckett demanded, "Now."

"I'm cold though," I complained, "plus why do I have to take it off."

"Alessa, it's fucking 90 degrees in here," Colton yelled, "Now hoodie off."

Well now they know that I'm hiding something and it won't be long until they get their way. They'll force my hoodie off if they had to but they are going to see all of the bruises, cuts, and hand prints. Plus they are going to figure out who did it to me if they really want to know. They'll force it out of me if they had too. Or they just use all there connections. "God fucking dammit, Alessa, take the fucking hoodie off," Jake yelled, "We don't want to force it off of you and you know we would if we have too."

"Fuck you," I yelled heading for the stairs. Before I could reach the stairs someone grabbed me. "Let me go, asshole," I scream.

As I pulled back the sleeve to my hoodie ripped on me, exposing all the cuts, bruises, and hand prints on my left arm. "Who fucking did this to you? " they all erupted besides Beckett.