Page 41 of His Good Girl
I have no choice but to plant my ass down and wait for whatever outcome is headed my way that was interrupted, hoping that Rue is being overly cautious, and that Serena is fine.
But my gut tells me that things are about to get severely worse before they get better.
Chapter23
Serena
When I open my eyes, I’m in bed. The curtains are open, showing me the rain-speckled window with the city lights gleaming in the background.
“You fucking shit me up so bad.”
Groaning as I turn my head to the left, I see Rue standing in the corner of my bedroom in the dark, her arms folded. She’s wearing white cropped pants with dark stains all over them and her white t-shirt.
Bringing my hand to my head, I wince at the pain in my arm, and it all comes crashing back down. I close my eyes briefly before opening them again and inhale deeply, noticing the white bandage wrapped tight around my arm from my inner elbow to my wrist.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
“Don’t,” she says, her voice cracking. “This is messed up, Serena.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
“Great consolation there, boo. Thank you for that.” Her gut-wrenching sarcasm makes me giggle inappropriately, hurting my stomach.
“Did I throw up?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry.”
“Your uncle is here.”
Snapping my head to the side in panic, I shake my head. “I don’t want to see him.”
“He’s talking with the medic who came. I don’t think he’s from the hospital. Looks kind of shady. What the fuck is going on here?”
“I know it looks horrible, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to come and save me. It wasn’t a cry for help.”
Liar.You’re a coward, and that’s why you called her.
The crushing voice in my head lays it all bare, and tears prick my eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but know that I’m here if you want to, okay?”
“You can leave and never look back, Rue. In fact, if I were you, that’s what I would do. Forget about me and my drama, yeah? I’m not coming back to work on Monday, so you don’t ever have to see me again.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses. “I’m not some delicate flower who can’t handle a suicide attempt.”
“That’s not what this was. I can’t…I’ve never been able to…”
“You’ve done this before?”
I nod and look away, not being able to face her sorrow.
“Serena, look at me.”
I don’t.
“Look. At. Me,” she grits out.
