This place felt extremely cold. It was like someone mixed ice into the air and was pressing it against every inch of my body. I am surprised my skin isn't burning from it. It would be helpful if someone brought a bon fire next to me. It was oddly quiet too. It felt like the entire place was muffled. The only thing you could hear was an odd clicking noise. There were different pitches to it though. There was a very fast clicking to a very slow clacking. I had a feeling in my stomach that I have been here before.

My blurred eyes looked around and saw an unexpected visitor. There was a guy who was in a uniform, a matching pant-shirt set of a certain blue shade, and he was checking the weird looking monitor. There were about 2 bright orange bottles in his hand. The color was so vibrant against the not-dull not-bright white. It was kind of painful to look at.

I rubbed them to ease them of the pain. It hurt my hand though as I did this. This kind of shocked me awake. The person did a quick glance to me and saw that I was once again a functioning human.

"Hi," said the person.

I felt so groggy. My mouth also tasted dry. I am surprised that it still worked.

"Where am I?" I asked. I looked around and could not understand where I was. The person stood up and folded his arms. His smile told me that this person lives life to the fullest.

"Hell, room number 317."

"What?" I was so confused.

The person laughed at their joke. "I am kidding. You are in the hospital."

I looked around the room. Or a make-shift room. I was in the emergency room. The curtains around me were ensuring my privacy. It was the monotoned blue curtains that every hospital uses. It was making me feel congested though. I wish it would be pulled back but then it would feel too open. It's a never-ending cycle.

"Hey where did you get all those marks?" he asks me randomly. He points to them on my arms. 

I tried to cover them with the blanket while saying "None of your business." I started to breathe heavier. They weren't covered. That was my fault. He looked concerned but eventually left me alone. 

As my eyes looked around the small area everything was slowly replaying in my mind. The game, the bathroom, the cut, the kissing, Grease-

I sat up very fast. The wires and tubes and everything that hooked me up to a machine moved. I felt every needle in my body move. It was a unique sensation that fled through my frozen arms. I resisted screaming, because we are in a hospital, but I couldn't bear it. I just had to. But unfortunately, this raised an alarm.

The curtain opened and in came running about 3 or 4 nurses and doctors.

They huddled around me to check what was wrong. This only made me feel more claustrophobic which made me panic even more. The nurses grabbed my arms and were trying to get me to lay down again. They were so close to me I knew what they had for lunch. The doctors were checking the vitals and the EKG sound skyrocketed and whatnot. One of the doctors was yelling over the crowd "Give her more anesthesia, for Pete's sake!"

I felt the medication being injected somewhere in my body. It took a brief moment before the sedatives worked. My eyes felt heavy again and my mind went dark again.

...

It is weird when you wake up from a deep sleep. It feels like you have only been gone for 10 minutes but hours have gone by. I don't know how much but time has passed. I woke up and felt sicker than earlier and my arms felt colder than ever. The blankets were not helping at all. It was as though someone took a thin sheet of ice and put it over me. My mouth felt like the Sahara. I wish I had some water, but I knew I wouldn't be allowed to have some. My hearing was muffled, and I couldn't see clearly. Everything was sounding quiet again. I hated how quiet it was. It made me feel as though someone was dead, which there probably was.

I sat up more carefully this time, trying not to put myself through more pain. It still hurts though. I winced as I tried to make myself comfortable. These beds are not the best. I tried to move the pillows around, which tired me out, and laid against them, trying to catch my breath. I have no energy and I do not want to eat. I mean I should, but I don't want to. I closed my eyes, and everything hit me slowly again. When I opened them, and staring at the singular light above me, I started crying.

What was I thinking? Why did it happen? What was really going on? He was flat out drunk, I saw it with my own eyes, and I still decided to help him. Then he started talking crap about his parents and hard life and whatever! By the amount of alcohol, he drank I am pretty sure that he made half of it up. When he was sober, he never said anything about his life. He is so stupid! Does he think I am one of his little girlfriends he can put on display?

Tears were streaking down my cheek. I had to calm down or risk the doctors coming in again. I slowed down my breathing. Why didn't I say anything? Why didn't I do anything? He was all over me and I just let it happen. I felt very dirty. Like I was having this dirt just engraved into my body. I felt disgusted, and I am pretty sure that other people would too. Dad, Lori, Dani, Joshua, Greyson- 

Greyson.

I didn't notice him in the armchair. He was asleep. He looked roughed up. He had bandages on his hand, a very big, purple bruise on his cheek, and what looked like 4 tiny stitches on his forehead. But other than that, he looked okay. Peaceful even. But I guess that's just the sleep.

I turned my attention back to the ceiling and sobbed as quietly as I could. I can't believe that just happened. I can't believe I let it happen. What was going to happen? I don't think I need to know. I don't think I want to know. I think what I need to do is to stop thinking. Blank out. Just stop. But I couldn't...

I sat there and stupidly, like a child, wished for a lot of things right now. I wished that all this never happened. I wished that everything would go back to normal. That I would simply wake up tomorrow and act like this never happened. Like I could walk out of the hospital, and everything would still be the same. But the thing I wished for the most was that the EKG monitor would just shut up!

As I continued to cry and tried to drift back to sleep, someone came into the room. It was the same guy from earlier.

"Hello," he said quietly. I hated how this place forces you to be quiet. There are rules telling you to be quiet to respect other patients but there is this extra strain of making sure your voice is above a very light, barely audible whisper.

I nodded my head, not really wanting to talk. I looked at my hands and it felt shaky. Even though I am wearing those yellow socks, several blankets, and a hospital gown I wished I was more clothed. These things are so flimsy. Not to mention the thing is practically backless. I just pushed myself farther in the bed to cover myself.

He checked my vitals again. His trained eyes were checking that either I was still alive or that the machines were not broken. He was asking me questions which I gave one-word responses to. I really did not feel like talking. He was getting close to me to check something, but I visibly moved away and flinched too. He was confused but then something popped into his head, and he moved away. He wanted to say something, but I was giving indicators of not wanting to talk. I guess he was okay with this because he left.

On his way out he accidentally bumped into the leg of Greyson's chair. Greyson shot awake. He looked around, alarmed, for the chaos but didn't find anybody. All he found was a random guy with apologetic eyes.

"I am so sorry," the guy said to him.

"It's fine," Greyson said.

The guy nodded to him then to me then left. Greyson stretched his arms out and noticed that I was awake. He was tugging at his shirt to let go of his body and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey."

I managed to choke out a quiet "Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

I couldn't respond. I had something new bothering me.

I usually don't like my friends to see me in the hospital, especially Greyson. I only let Dad see me. It made me feel beyond uncomfortable. I am usually a mess and have that weird hospital smell. And to help matters I usually don't manage to shower when I am here. I try my best not to let them see me because a lot happens when they do. They first come in and pretend everything is fine when it is not then they would go home and go crazy over it and not tell me. I can never know how hard it is for Greyson to not see me like this. But they don't care. They will fight the entire country to come into my room. The last time I was in the hospital, and they came to visit I didn't shower for a week, that includes barely brushing my hair, and threw up twice in the same day.

"How did you get in?" I asked.

"Well, I was already in, plus a little sweet talking to the nurses never kills anyone."

When he isn't the most anxious person in society, he can be very charismatic. A trick, he said, he learned from being in many schools and business meetings.

"You remembered; you remembered what happened?" he asked.

"Yeah," I breathed out.

He looked disappointed. I knew we all wanted to forget what happened, but I don't think I can. Even now I still remember the pungent smell in the bathroom.

I began to freak out over a new thing. "Where's Dad? Is he okay? Has he seen me?"

"Calm down, Daisy, everything is okay. He is okay. He came in earlier then left."

"Where?" My heart rate was gaining speed.

"School."

"Why?"

"When he heard you were getting wheeled into the hospital the story leaked-"

"Who told?"

"I think it was Keller. She came with us while Butler stayed behind at school."

I knew it would be hard to keep under wraps, but I wished it did. I really did not want to bother Dad with this. It really did not concern him.

"Anyway," he continued on. "He heard what happened and he went to school to talk to Butler."

"What is going to happen next?" I was so tired from having this conversation.

"We are graduating early. Or at least that is the agreement your Dad and Butler said they made. He texted me a while ago."

The first sentence of that entire statement hit the air quite weirdly.

"We?"

"Yeah."

I looked at him again and saw his injuries. "What happened to you?"

He looked uncomfortable and was thinking really hard about this. "I don't think I should tell you."

"Please, Greyson." 

He looked like he wanted to hold his ground but then he started to talk.

"Right after you passed out, Grease came into the gym. I guess he was too drunk to realize what happened and what he was doing." There was a look of hatred on his face that I have never seen. "He came into the gym. He took a couple steps before he fell against the wall. I- I wasn't using my head. I just went at him. I forgot that there were a bunch of people there. We got into a fight. He got me a few times and I think I accidentally cracked a rib. We would have beaten each other to death if we weren't pulled apart."

This did make me feel worse, but I did not voice it.

"Are you okay?"

"I busted my knuckles and he hit me in the head a few times. I am okay though." He was probably comparing himself to me and thinking that all he got was a scratch.

Even though I didn't want it to happen a single, very hot tear ran down the side of my cheek. I tried wiping it with my hand, but some needle moved again. I put it back to where it was.

He was going for my hand, but I had to move it.

"What's next, then?" I asked to change the subject.

He was still weirded out by me moving my hand.

"Uhm... nothing special really. We have all the credits to graduate so... yeah."

I took this in and felt hollow on the inside. It's funny. When you hear that you are going to graduate it is one of the best moments of your life. You think of your upcoming freedom and a new chapter in your life, but at the same time you realize how much you are going to miss this. You are usually with friends, family, teachers and so many others who help you along the way. Rehearsals, cap and gown fittings, pictures, proms. All these things just scream "You did it!" and "Congrats Grad!"

I cried. The sad tears, not the happy ones. I am having the typical senior feelings but just 10 times worse. Even though I am leaving this hell hole which I despise, the child in me is mourning its death.

I looked at Greyson who was looking at the floor. I noticed something under his injured hand. It was a big yellow envelope. You know, the ones where you keep important stuff in. From the letters I could see it said 'Greyson's Doc-"

No. It can't be. This cannot be happening. There was a lot of talk of it happening but- it can't be. 

"Why do you have your stuff?"

"What stuff?"

I point to his hand and say, "The envelope."

He noticed the big envelope under his hand too. He looked at it and hid it from me.

"Nothing." He sat up and started to look around, trying to avoid the waters.

"Greyson, please." I looked into his eyes, begging him to tell me what happened.

He tried to ignore me, but it wasn't working. I kept on pleading, asking him to confront the worst of the worst. He finally cracked and said, "Stefano and Eva gave it to me."

"What?" I was shocked. 

No. 

"They heard what happened. Stefano came earlier and we fought. Then he gave me this and... just left."

He was hurt. No matter what Greyson said about his family he was hurt. His parents, his brother... they were all he ever had. No one in this world could ever replace them, not me or Dad or Joshua or Dani or anybody else. No one can replace your family, no matter how hard you try. If they could forget the business, the opinion of other people, the money, their title, they would find their son who was hurting. And if he learned that what they were trying to do was going to benefit him in the future, that they were doing this in the best interest for him, he wouldn't have been so cruel to them. What was the point of building the big tower if the foundation was never sturdy?

I hate guys who are so macho. Those guys who are like "Guys Don't Cry" or "Guys Don't Have Feelings". Yeah, I don't want a guy to continuously weep on my shoulder, reciting poems but I don't want a guy who is always trying to hide, trying to convince everyone, but mostly himself, that he isn't bothered by it. I had to tell him that it was okay to let it out once in a while. That is one thing Greyson said I have taught him. Who could teach him better than me?

But sometimes he can't help but hide behind the wall he grew up building. The tears in his eyes were evaporating from the heat of his burning, angry face.

"I'm sorry," I said. It was my fault. Entirely, completely my fault. If I had kept my mouth shut or didn't pass out or just be friends with him none of this would have happened in the first place.

"It's okay. I was leaving anyway. I talked to your dad about it and he told me to wait till I graduated. Perfect timing, I guess." He tried lightening the mood which did not work on either of us.

"I am sorry I never told you. I didn't want you to stress about it."

He is right, I would have worried myself to death over it.

We were there for hours. Some conversations sparked occasionally but it felt uncomfortable and awkward. It was like there was a wall between us. I wanted him to leave but I didn't want to be rude. I was thinking I should fall back asleep, but I had to watch him. I knew he would start doing certain things if I left him to his own devices. I was just so tired. 

But even while we sat there in silence my mind would not shut up.

I just kept on thinking how stupid I was. The blame, my conscience decided, was on me now. Why didn't I leave while he was busy drinking or on the toilet? When he was talking the door was wide open. Why didn't I move when he opened my shirt or was kissing me? Was I liking what he was doing to me? Did I enjoy it? 

Why did my mind shut? It won't now. He was doing things to me I obviously didn't like. Why did I blank? I am so STUPID! STUPID! STUPID, STUPID, STUPID! I saw what he was doing to me, felt it, and yet I let it happen.

And yet I let everything happen...

...

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