Broken [Book 1 of 2]

Chapter Six-

        I remember dreaming about my life when I was six years old. I had these three best friends, we were nothing but happy. Eating endlessly, laughing loudly, not any drama.

        That was before they left. Around the age of thirteen, the three of us got into this big fight. Over something stupid. I remember it like it was yesterday.

        We were in this room, the three of us. One friend was texting her other friends, and didn't listen to anything we said. 

        "Get off your damn phone, Rachel!" I yelled, drawing the line.

        "Why? It's important," Rachel said, not looking up once. 

        My other friend (Lucy) pitched in, raising her voice also, "Ray, you never wanna hang anymore! You're always blowing us off for your newer and better friends!" Her voice was scratchy. Rachel finally took her eyes off the screen, staring at Lucy.

        "That's not true," Rachel argued, sounding as if she was about to laugh.

        "Yes it is!" I said, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. I never really realized that, but when Lucy pointed it out, I noticed it was true.

        For the next hour we were fighting back and fourth constantly without taking a breath. Rachel stormed out, and she broke off. It was only Lucy and I.

        Until she replaced me too.

        She slowly started liking her new friends better than me, just like what Rachel did. I find that funny, since Lucy practically pushed her away for the same thing she's doing to me. She fought with Rachel because she blew us off for her other friends, and that's exactly what Lucy is doing to me.

        Isn't that just so funny? How my best friend left for other friends- and then my other one left for the same reason?

        I opened my eyes to Cameron standing right beside me. Something didn't feel right in my nose, so I lightly touched my hand to my face. A feeding tube. Great. An IV was standing to the side of Cam, and I noticed where I was.

        "You took me to a hospital?!" I almost yelled to him.

        "Jayde, you fainted! I was scared and I didn't know what to do!" Cam answered.

        "I did?" I questioned. I had no memory of what happened in the past day. He nodded, touching his hand to my forehead. I sighed. I hate hospitals.

        "You'll be okay," Cam whispered, and I could hear the crackling in his voice. He was on the urge of crying.

        "I will," I said sternly, making sure he'd believe me. I can't see him cry. A smile crept across his mouth, and so did mine.

        "I had a dream about Lucy and Rachel," My smile immediately fell. He knew who they were, as I have told him before.

        "Awe," He said, taking his hand off my forehead and into my hand.

        "Yeah," I said, "It was way back when we were all happy. Around six. We were laughing and playing at the playground where we met. Eating peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. No drama, just smiles."  I knew it was coming, the storm in my eyes.

        "Don't cry," Cam pleaded, "You've got me."

        "I really screwed up," I started bawling, "I really miss them and it's too late to do anything!" Cam nodded, he was listening. I could rant to him and he wouldn't judge me.

        "I thought I was okay but in reality i'm really not! They were my escape to happiness-but then they both just left like it was absolutely nothing!" By then I couldn't talk, I was choking on my words and I was running out of breath from crying.

        Why was I crying so much? I had the love of my life standing right next to me. The guy who literally saved my life multiple times, the guy who stopped me from self-harming myself, the guy who thousands of girls would give their everything just to take a picture with him.

        Cam brought himself down, and wiped the tears away. He then leaned down, and kissed me. When our lips touched, I felt safe. Lucy and Rachel left my mind, and I was in the moment.

        "Thank you," I whispered as he detached his lips, "Thank you for putting up with me."

        "I love you."

        "I love you too, maybe even more."

        "Not possible."

        "Maybe it is possible."

        •••

        Life in the hospital isn't that fun. They asked me questions, and I had to lie. A nurse asked me why I fainted, so I told her that I just hadn't eaten in awhile because I've been so busy. I guess she believed me, because after a week of a feeding tube (and at least one nurse was watching over me at all times), I got to go home.

        "I hate hospitals," I spit as Cam and I enter my car. He gave a small chuckle. That's gotta be the 500th time I've said that to him this past week.

        "I know. We're going home now," He said, cheering  me up.

        "I'm so glad!" I laughed, "This week has been so...eventful."

        Cam drove us home, and we barely spoke. I listened to the radio, each song describing a section of my life. One particular song especially, I think it was called The Draw. It was about how the "draw" was pulling you back, but you're fighting back. I think I've almost conquered my draw.

        Once I got home, I opened the door to my mom. She looked like she was about to hit me.

        "Where the hell have you been?!" She yelled in my face.

        Backing away, I answered, "I've been out." I can't tell her I've been in the hospital, she'd ground me and probably beat me. Why? Because she would probably think I was there from her abusiveness (is that the word?). I pulled my sleeve down a little farther to hide my hospital band.

        "Out where?!" Mom lurched towards me, eyeing Cam.

        "With her friends and me," Cam spoke up, "I'm Cameron, by the way. Cameron Dallas."

        Mom nodded, with a gross look on her face. Maybe she was drunk.