Pet Boy

Waking Up To A New Home

I woke up in a bed, not one in a hospital, but one in a bedroom. I sat up slowly, since I still felt a bit light headed, and looked around.

The room was pink and girly, giving me a headache as I looked at the ruffled curtains and flower printed bed sheets.

It was definitely a girls room, but whose?

My head ached as I let out a groan. I wanted to get out of the room to find out where I was, but I wasn't sure if anyone was around or if it was safe to leave.

As I lied there quietly, I could hear muffled voices talking in a different room so I held my breath lied still as I tried to listen in on whatever I could. If I was lucky, I could get some information on where I was and who was here with me.

"Why can't we take her to a hospital? Her injuries looked serious!" I could hear a girls voice cry out. It was Lila's voice. This must be her house and room then.

"Trust me, it's not as bad as it seems, give her a few days and she'll recover" a guy's voice spoke back. The voice was deeper and more solid, probably Elliot's.

Not as bad as it seems huh? Well it still hurt like hell.

I suppose I can't be taken to a hospital though. How would I explain the injuries? And what about the medical bill? I could get Elliot's government to pay for it but that would require me telling them about how I transformed at a party, nearly exposing myself to everyone, and not only that, but also how I was ready to kill someone. And what if they lock me up again because of it? I don't want that to happen. Going to the hospital is out of the question.

I decided that it was safe for me to get up since I wasn't in danger and since I didn't want to be stuck in this room any longer. I sat up then glanced at myself and observed the new clothes I was wearing. I was in a light pink night gown with a thin blue ribbon just below the chest which was tied in a nice lacy bow.

At least it's not the half opened dresses that hospitals have. I turned my body slowly to minimize the pain and managed to get my legs over the edge of the bed so that they were dangling, waiting for me to stand up. My legs were all wrapped up and sore from the muscles that were torn and I had to mentally prepare myself for the pain that would come when I stood up.

I took a deep breath in and hopped onto my feet. I paused for a moment, trying to adapt to the pain. As I stood there, I looked at all the bandages that wrapped my body, making me look like a mummy.

Guess I really did over do it.

My muscles ached and my body felt weak. Every movement I made sent sharp pains throughout my body as some wounds were reopened. But of all the bruises and cuts, my heart was hurting the most.

The image of Royce and Holly flashed in my mind as I began to let the dark thoughts of depression settle in.

I've been like this lately, filling myself up with regret and depression. What happened to the happy me? The fun and loving one?

Oh, that's right. She was killed by the jealous and hateful part of me. The one who lies and is blinded by a false love.

I took a deep breath in and tried to clear my head. Why does this always happen? I keep telling myself that this is all for a reason and that everything will get better, but how can I be so sure?

Giving myself hope and lying to myself is how I have been able to keep pushing myself forward, but how long can I do this for? How long will it be until I have no more excuses and no more lies to feed and satisfy my mind? I was close to giving up on myself once, in fact, I had given up on myself, but at the last second, I came back to my senses.