COMPLETED
Penn State University.
Home to the craziest sorority girls, most obnoxious football players, and a girl who never wanted to be there in the first place.
Ellie Webber hates Penn State. But she is only there because her twin brother is the...
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CAUTION WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER, READ WITH CAUTION.
Ellie Webber
Books have always been my happy place because they filled the void that humans and myself could not.
Books gave me everything that I could have ever wanted and more. I feel like most people take advantage of what books give us. If we need a friend? We can read. If we need a significant other? We can read them. If we need to find out facts? We can read them.
If we need to find what we have lost or what we aren't willing to lose– readers will read about it.
My lips were beyond chapped.
I had been sitting in this hospital waiting room for hours. I often got up and paced around but my headache and disbelief were so prominent that I would have to sit for long amounts of time because of how lightheaded I was.
I hated hospitals.
I hated everything about them.
For the longest time, I hated even being within a mile radius of a hospital. Suicidal people tend to not like hospitals or any medical facilities. I mean, deep inside we are all begging and screaming for help. But also– also, we hate the idea of hospitals and medical facilities because what suicidal person wants to be around a place that saves a life.
Hospitals and medical facilities aren't all bad though. Maybe I'm fucked up for saying it– but sometimes I think about how many people were dying in here, every day, wishing that I was one of them.
Stop it, Ellie.
Stop being so mentally ill and fucked in the head when your best friend flatlined five times– he's the one who has been dead and back to life when you are out here wishing you were dead. Stop being the way you are, Ellie.
My teeth picked at my lip again, pulling off a freshly scabbed part, the metallic taste automatically filling my mouth as I sucked the blood out of my lip.
I wished that I could take away every single open wound that he had and inflict it on myself. I was the one who was supposed to die– not him. I was the one who wanted to die– not him. And not only did he die once– he died five times.
