'till death do us part

five

I tried to get up but my head felt too heavy for my body. I could see blood in the corner of my eye, and all I could do was think. I wasn't in pain, everything was numb. All I could think about was how I should've jumped. I should've stayed away from Leo and his crazed fans. What made them feel the need to attack me because I kissed him? Leo was going to go places, I knew it. He would ditch me soon enough and date a model or a Hollywood star. Not me. Not a Brooklyn waitress that has nothing to offer him, no good looks, no Hollywood attire, just plain old me, with baggy clothing and messy hair. Why would he bother with me once his fame rose? Answer: he wouldn't.

It must've only been minutes since the the attack, but it felt like days. It felt like hundreds of people had walked past me lying lifeless on the ground and not bothered to even take a second look. It was early, like I said, probably 7a.m. and for some reason, not many people were up and about. I scrunched my eyes shut before preparing myself as I reached forward and tried to drag myself forward. Weakly, I reached for a rock and threw it at a nearby apartment complex. I didn't know if it would help or wake anyone up, but I was too weak to move too far or shout for help. It missed the window and fell into a bush nearby it. That was my last shot. I had no energy to move and find something else to throw, and I was giving up.

I still don't know what happened or who called an ambulance, but when I woke up I was in hospital. My mom was there, and she acted all dramatic when she woke up.

"Six weeks!" She wailed. "You never woke up Becky my baby girl!"

I could feel my anger rising as she went on about how much she loved me.

"Fuck you!" I screamed, getting up out of bed. I fell to the floor, too weak to get up or even walk.

"Poor little Becky." She whispered once the nurse exited the room to get help. "Little pathetic girl. You're going back to Brooklyn now sweetie pie, and you're not leaving again. Pete isn't finished."

I screamed as loud as I could, banging my head against the flooring. It was a blur, but the nurse told me I kept repeating the words 'Wake me up.'

As they came in and helped me up, sticking needles in my arms and asking me questions, I didn't move or say anything. I just stared, whispering those words.

"Wake me up. Wake me up. Wake me up."