Speak

Chapter 18

"Scars are not signs of weakness, they are signs of survival and endurance."

~ Rodney A. Winters

**Wesley POV**

"Liz!"

Panic courses through my body as my phone becomes butter in my jacket pocket. What the hell happened? Possibilities flash through my mind, fearing Liz has cut too deep. It's been weeks since I've noticed that Liz cut herself. And other than the blood coming from the gash above her left eye, there are no other signs of blood.

Relief.

I suddenly remember the pill bottle setting out on her bag.

Rebekah.

No.

I start to shake as my mind flashes back to the phone call from my mother. My stomach twists in knots as my fingers furiously dial my Dad's cell number.

This can't be happening.

If Liz overdosed, why is she naked with the faint glisten of water on her pale skin and wet hair?
She just took a shower a few hours ago.
I start to think that perhaps she got sick as the phone rings.

I just pray my Dad hears it ring amidst the festivities outside. My eyes train on the bath towel hanging next to the shower as he picks up the call.

"Wesley," my Dad answers, confused.

"Dad, I need you upstairs, right now," I plead as I reach for the towel. "Something's happened to Liz!"

There is a moment of silence as I carefully drape the towel over Liz's exposed body, careful not to touch her inappropriately. Even though she is completely unconscious, I could never do that to her, or anyone.

"Where are you at?"

"The guest room across from my bedroom," I answer as I tuck the edges under her body. "Please hurry!"

I hang up the phone without an answer. Running over to the bathroom vanity, I reach for the nearest washcloth, turn the faucet on, and soak the soft fabric in warm water. Ringing the excess out of the cloth, I race back over and drop to my knees beside my Rose.

What happened?

Thirty minutes ago, Liz was okay. She was smiling and so happy.
What changed?

Gently, I try to wipe the blood from Liz's beautiful face. I realize the cut above her eye is deep enough to need stitches as the blood continues to seep out of the wound.

Pressure.

I feel a knot twisting inside my stomach as I hold the cloth to Liz's head.

I should have checked on her sooner.

I should have gone with her when she left.

I told her I wouldn't leave her side.

Guilt.

"Wesley," I hear my dad call from the bedroom.

"In the bathroom!"

Within moments, both he and my mom appear in the doorway. Mom clutches her chest while Dad doesn't miss a beat and is kneeled beside me in moments.

"What happened," Dad asks as he checks Liz's pulse.

"I don't know, dad," I choke out as he rolls Liz onto her back. "We were dancing and laughing, but then she just froze. She excused herself, and this is how I found her when I came to check on her."