your best american girl ✓

25 | unconditional surrender

When I wake up, I'm laying in bed that's not my own, quilt covers tucked all the way up to my chin. Slowly, I begin to rustle, a sharp jolt of pain immobilizing my limbs as I attempt to sit upright. The mattress dips enough to cushion my aching lower back. In shock, I notice my wounds have been tended, a white bandage securely covering my limbs, though splotches of red stain the inner layers of the gauze. A sharp pain jolts up my spine, earning a strangled gasp from me. Wounds are still very fresh, and they gush a little more with every move, small or big.

As my eyes adjust to the pitch-black room, I realize I'm in Tara's bedroom. I'd recognize that luxurious creme ottoman chair and grey stained marble vanity anywhere. Thankfully, none of the blood has leaked onto her heathered cashmere sheets or her rose gold silk pillow.

"Do you think she's okay? She hasn't left the bedroom since...you know," a voice I recognize as Kassie's drifts through the crack of the ajar door.

"I'm so worried," Faye responds, voice breaking, and I imagine her shaking her head, "I've never ever seen her like this. I really thought she was gonna die when we found her. That was...a lot of blood loss."

"It is a lot to process," Tara agrees, quietly. "We shouldn't tell her right now. She's gonna freak out."

Huh? Tell me what? What are they keeping from me?

"You're right," Kassie agrees, sighing, "we'll tell her when she's better."

Okay, now I'm really curious. Starting to stir underneath the covers, I force my knees to bend over the ledge of the bed, ignoring the rippling of agony shooting up my scarred arms. One foot after another, I manage to teeter so I can stand up, and gingerly turn the knob.

The four of them freeze, wide-eyed when they realize that I'm on the other side of the threshold.

"Hey..." Faye greets, eyelids droopy as she flashes me a tentative smile that is meant to be comforting, yet in actuality is anything but, "are you feeling any better?"

"Yep," I insist curtly, immediately sensing the uneasiness radiating off these girls. Something is wrong, I can feel it, and it's not only what happened to me. If their weird behavior is any indication, this secret they're keeping from me must be serious. "So what were you talking about?"

"Oh it's nothing you need to worry about," Tara lies, waving her hand dismissively as she crosses her arms, "you should really go back to bed."

"No," I bit out, standing my ground. I want the truth. Nothing less. Especially after what I've experienced, I think they can give me that at the very least. "Tell me now."

Kassie and Tara exchange a subtle look of hesitancy that does not go unnoticed by me. "Lee, I don't think you need the added stress—"

"For God's sake, tell me now," I repeat, voice small. "I'm tired of you guys walking on eggshells around me. I'm not a child. I'm capable of handling shit on my own, ya know?"

Silence fills the space, building a wall to separate us. The four of them take a moment to deliberate, all of them too nervous to be the first one to make a definite decision. There's no going back now, anyway. Might as well tell me, because I'm not going to let this go any time soon.

"Fine," Kassie finally gives in, running a hand through those short purple locks of hair, "we need to talk. Follow me."

Doing what's told, I trail behind them as we walk in a slightly curved line to the living room; past the Renaissance painting hung on the off-white walls and sparkling crystal chandeliers hung from the lavishly columned ceiling. Once we reach our destination, each of them claims their respective seats: Halle and Kassie on the floor; Tara and Faye sandwiched together on the L-shaped couch. Anxiously, I follow their leads, wincing as I sit down on a beanbag.