[COMPLETED]
"Life doesn't get easier or more forgiving, we get stronger and more resilient."
― Steve Maraboli
She has experienced more pain in her 15 years of life than many people do in their lifetimes. Her life has always been filled with pain, em...
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ARABELLA'S POV
Confrontation
I'm terrible at a lot of things, and by a lot, I mean A-LOT. But the one thing that I avoid at any cost is confrontation.
It's sort of like a defense mechanism that I couldn't stop myself from using, and I've always avoided facing the truth my entire life.
Call me a coward, if you will.
As a child, I avoided accepting the fact that my parents were abusive, and as I grew older I avoided telling anyone what was going on behind the closed doors of my house.
And after one particular incident, I vowed to myself that the truth would never leave my mouth, no matter what.
So it wasn't a surprise that the moment I woke up to loud and annoying beeping sounds, and my senses and rationality returning back to me, I decided to run away.
But obviously I didn't think it through, because I was living in a highly secured mansion that I couldn't run away from without the guards informing the people who I was trying to avoid.
I mean I couldn't even walk through the gates of the mansion, which again had people keeping guard, let alone flee.
But I still managed to run away, but there was one tiny problem—
I started to wake up from the constant beeping sound, as my senses began to return, the first thing that invaded my senses was a pungent smell of disinfectants.
I forced my eyes open, squinting in an attempt to get rid of the blurriness, as my unfocused vision took in the pale white colour of the walls, which was the only thing I could comprehend.
The mechanical voices were too loud but at the same time muffled. I was feeling weak, and when I tried to lift my head, I couldn't.
What happened?
I tried to recall what had exactly happened and, then it all hit me like a tonne of bricks. My thoughts begin to be occupied by the memory of it all.
Oh shit
What had I just done?
Out of impulse, my hand rushes to my face, pressing the throbbing area on my right temple.
Slowly bringing myself to sit up, I glanced around trying to figure out where I was. My eyes finally adjusted to my situation, I was sitting in a hospital bed with needles inserted into my arm, and wires connected to a monitor.
The clothes I had on earlier were neatly folded on the bedside table, while I was in a hospital gown, the scars on my arms and legs were clearly naked to be judged.
My sprained shoulder had a healing patch on it, and inhaling was still extremely painful considering the state of my bruised ribs which now had a rib belt covering them.
