Saved by HIM

t e n

Corey's P O V

This chapter I decided to add a song, The Middle of Starting Over by Sabrina Carpenter.
• • •

You can't have a better t o m o r r o w if you're still thinking about
y e s t e r d a y.

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As I drove to Ella's beat up house, I began to have doubts.

What if she wasn't there?

What if something bad had happened?

What if I did something wrong to make her mad at me?

The thoughts echoed in my head, each one scaring me more than the last.

I hoped she was fine.

As I drove up to her driveway, I noticed a  police car parked across the street and the officer on the porch.  My eyes widened.  Her father must've hurt her again.

As the police officer saw me getting out of my car, he began to examine my face while holding a picture.

"Finally," he said, "you are Corey correct?"

"Y-yeah," I stammered, "Why?" I asked, scared of what his answer would be.

"We believe that Ella needs some support right now, since she has no known alive family.  I believe you know about her father's beating of her?" he asked me.

I nodded.

"Well, her father- he hit her with his car.  It sent Ella to the hospital and shes becoming depressed.  We fear she can get schizophrenia," he said sadly.

"What's schizophrenia?" I asked quietly.

The police officer looked up at me, "Its when someone goes into depression and they don't think correctly- they don't know what is real or fake."

I stared wide eyed at the police officer, beginning to feel tears coming down my face. "Take me to her?" I asked. "Please?"

The officer game me a smile with pity, and nodded his head.  "The crash has messed up her mind a bit, so she might seem a bit.. different."

I furrowed my eyebrows, but nodded anyways. 

He led me to his car, and I hopped in.  No longer than five minutes later, we were on the busy streets of my hometown.

When we arrived at the hospital, the white and gray colors of the building surrounded me.

I sadly stared up at it's tall figure, and quickly began to walk to it, eager to see Ella.  When I walked into the reception area, the hospital was swarming with people, families of all kinds.  Apparently there was a stomach flu going around, and the parents of young kids were taking them to get flu shots.  The flu was the last thing on my mind.

I jogged up to the reception desk, but the police officer stopped me and led me to the elevator.

"I know what room she's in.  Don't worry," he told me.

I managed to say, "Thanks," but it sounded strained.

We traveled to the third floor of the hospital, and he quickly led me to Ella's room.

I was excited to see her. But when we walked in, she wasn't there.

Then, we heard a cry of agony.  My eyes widened.  I new that cry. It was Ella.  I had heard it once when she tripped over my coffee table at home, and she had a large bruise for the next few days. 

The worst part is, she wasn't in her assigned room and her cry was full of terror and pain.

I sprinted off into the direction her cry had came from, and after hours, I found her on the bathroom floor, passed out.

I felt her pulse.  Nothing.  No air was going in or coming out as far as I could tell, but I wasn't a doctor so I wasn't sure.

I hoped she wasn't dead.  She couldn't be.  I called a doctor and nurses, and they came in.  The doctor checked her pulse, and I anxiously waited.  His face went pale, as he managed to spit out, "She's dead."