COMPLETED
Penn State University.
Home to the craziest sorority girls, most obnoxious football players, and a possible Vice President's son.
Sloane Beck wants nothing more than to have her cheating ex-boyfriend crawl back to her.
Blake Day wants not...
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Besties, if you are unable to handle such disturbing topics of gore in this chapter— please skip. There are resources at the bottom if you need help.
Sloane Beck JUNE.
Blood.
There was so much blood.
I gasped when I woke up, feeling the overwhelming urge to scream out in pain. Throwing my bed covers off of the top of me—I immediately had goosebumps. The summer heat doing nothing for my boney body.
I choked out a sob—freezing when I realized I was bleeding.
There was blood fucking everywhere.
"What?" I asked as I slowly crawled out from the bed and stumbled to my bathroom. Reaching for a towel, I stripped off my undergarments before laying down on the black and white tiled floor.
Inspecting more of the blood, I shook my head in disbelief.
How?
How was this possible?
This was so embarrassing.
Why did I do this to myself—to us?
Crying, I stood up slowly. My stomach lurched but I covered my mouth to not throw up—I wasn't going to throw up, it wasn't going to win again. The damage had already been done and it was extensive.
Slowly walking towards my phone, I hovered over Naomi's name wanting to call her. She would know what to do—she was a nurse. Before I pressed the call button I looked at the blood-soaked bed.
I chewed on my lip before releasing a deep breath.
I decided to not call Naomi.
She was pregnant and I didn't want to put her through this.
Just because mine failed doesn't me I have to put this on her. Covering my mouth with the back of my wrist, I cried as I walked back into my bathroom. I got in the shower, slowly cleaning myself making sure to be gentle before I went to the hospital.
I gripped the wall in front of me in the shower—trying to get through another wave of pain and dizziness. I cried out, hoping it was quiet enough that nobody would hear me.
I didn't know.
"Jesus," I watched as another rush of blood came out of me.
Feeling another wave of weakness hit me, I carefully stepped out of the shower. I needed to get help. Throwing on an all-black outfit, I carefully left the penthouse. Getting into my car, I drove to the nearest hospital in the city. I readjusted myself multiple times during the ride, trying to get comfortable with the uncomfortable news I was about to face.
Parking my car in the emergency room lot, I felt another wave of dizziness hit me. Clutching my phone, I dialed 911 realizing that I would not be making it into this hospital—I would need to be taking in.
