The Badass Saved Everyone's Ass

Chapter 5: "Lucky for you I saved your ass."

Chapter 5: "Lucky for you I saved your ass."

ZOEY'S POV

I can vaguely hear yelling. The sound is muffled and there is an annoying beeping. I raise my right arm and feel my chest. I'm not wearing shoes, so my knife must be in my bra.

Only I'm not wearing a bra. My leg is throbbing, my right side is killing me and my head is sore.

Memories come rushing back to me.

I'm in a hospital. I don't know what happened to everyone that was saved.

I force my eyes open.

Mom, Megan, and Charles are in the room. Dillon, Kyle, and Scout are, too.

"Why are you feeling yourself up?" Dillon asks.

I laugh softly and groan at the pain.

That asshat put his hands on my boobs.

"Where's my gun?" I demand. "My knife!"

I start yelling and nurses some in and give me water and order me to calm down.

Then, five FBI agents come in.

I stare.

"Zoey, you're awake. Finally."

I stare still.

"You aren't in trouble. In fact, we read your thoughts in your journal and it all adds up with the president. Not only did you save everyone kidnapped, but you saved the president. You saved America.

"So where is my gun and knife?" I demand.

They all frown. "We took them."

"Why?" I ask angrily.

In silence, one of them hands me them back. I sigh in relief.

"You are quiet famous. You are America's hero."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, when can I get out of here? I hate hospitals and I don't want to deal with fretting nurses."

"You'll have to wait a bit. I am truly sorry."

_______

Turns out the faint shouting I heard when I woke was the crowd outside of the hospital screaming for the doctors to save my life because I'm a hero. It's weird to hear the term "Zoey" and "Hero" in the same line.

I refused to leave the hospital until I was fully healthy again and I worked out in the staff gym and I like it here.

Now I'm better and I'm leaving today. It's been a month. The world knows I'm leaving and there is a giant crowd outside.

And, even better, they renewed my drivers license.

I laugh at the thought as I pull on my white tank top. Mom threw away the red one and got me a white one and new black jeans. I get to keep my boots and jacket. I yank on my jacket and button up my jeans and pull on my combat boots. I brush my blonde hair and, breaking rules, I slip my butterfly knife in my boot and my handgun in the back of my jeans.

We head down the elevator, and when we walk out the door, the screaming increases but then fades when they realize the hospital alarm is going off.

And the president and his family is standing ten feet from me.

All of the hospital cops come running.

"Zoey." One of them, Steve says. We're kind of friends. He's awesome. The crowd is silent and there is a microphone somewhere picking up my voice. "Did you hide your weapons again?"