grace | billy hargrove [#1]

31.

a/n: happy update! thank you all for reading and voting, it means a lot. for those who are interested in politics, read the author's note at the end please. i am doing this at the end because some of you might not be interested - which it totally fine :)

☆ G R A C E ☆

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"Put your hand in mine
You know that I want to be with you all the time
You know that I won't stop until I make you mine
Until I make you mine"

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My father drove us home from the hospital. I had to stay for two more days since they wanted to make sure the drug was out of my system. Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve had come to visit every day and we played games or just hung out. My father had been busy talking to the police to find more people to testify. A lot of people at the party didn't seem to remember what they did or what happened since everybody got drunk, but the search still continued. My father believed that there must be someone out there – other than Nancy.

Nancy had given a full statement to the police of what had happened occurring to her memory. She told them how we got there and she left me to find Jonathan. When she came back she had seen me talking to Peter. She had asked me what kind of drink I had got – one that Peter apparently made for me. But when she asked me for a sip, he was quick to put his foot in it and tell her no. after I had finished the drink, she said I got wary very fast. I was losing consciousness when she went to the kitchen to grab me a glass of water, but when she came back I was out.

I had tried my hardest to recall the events from that night, but so far, I had only gotten as far as leaving Nancy's house and arriving at the party. The doctor said that the memories could come back with time, as the residue of the drug wore off. Sometimes the memories wouldn't come back at all, but I was just hoping for the best. I needed to remember because I couldn't believe someone like Peter had done that to me.

As for Billy, he had been coming every day to check on me. We didn't talk much – sometimes he just showed his face for two seconds because I was with someone else, but he was there. That was all that mattered. It made my heart flutter, the same fluttering I got in the beginning. It felt like we hadn't spent almost two months apart.

"Alright, we're here, sweetie," my mother said. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car. My father was holding my bag of clothes and my mother the bouquet of flowers I got gotten from the Wheeler family. I followed them inside.

"Why don't you freshen up and we'll have dinner together?" my father proposed. He put my bag next to the stairs and took his coat off. I appreciated that they were trying to make me feel at home, but I was dying for some sleep. I had been around people 24/7 for the last three days and I was dying for some alone time.

"Actually, I am really tired so I thought about just heading to bed," I told them. My mother gave my father a worried look, but he quickly shushed her. They still treated me like I was a china doll.

"Do you need me to take your bag upstairs?" he now said. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"I'm fine, guys. I can do it myself. Goodnight," I smiled. I didn't wait for their reaction as I got my bag and walked up to the stairs, taking a left turn to my room.

I put my bag on the end of my bed, turning on my bedside table. As more time past and I turned more into the new version of Grace, this bedroom became less mine. I still loved it, but it reminded me of who I used to be. Not who I wanted to be. The Stanford flag on my bulletin board, the collection of old books and the fountain pen that I got for my birthday. I guess this room belonged to the Grace that was supposed to go to Stanford. I was never going to be here.