You're next (finished)

For jade, life's a waste of time. She is bullied, her dad abuses her mom, and she cuts. But when the bully at school becomes nice all of a sudden, could life get better? Or worse...


4. Jade's p.o.v

Well that was weird. Michael Clifford was just staring straight at me from a window and he wasn't staring at me in a 'I'm gonna kill you way' this time.

I stroll up to my door to hear arguing again. Great. I walk in and they both turn around, fake smiling. "Jade, can you go upstairs?" Mum asks, sounding nervous.

I raise an eyebrow. "Please jade." Dad groans, rolling his eyes. I sigh and go upstairs to my room. I hear more arguing. Then a crash. Then nothing. I want to go downstairs, but I don't want to get involved.

I start itching the cuts on my wrist and listen for anything. All I hear is the door closing and that's it. I've got to go down there.

"Mum! Are you okay?" I scream as I see her on the floor, with her hand on her head. She looks dizzy but gets up. "I'm fine. I j-just um, I um I fainted." She whispers. Whatever. I can guess what happened to her.

Dads hit her on the head, knocking her out. There's a tiny pool of blood on the floor so I clean it up. She feels for where the bloods coming from. "You okay?" I ask again.

She looks at me confused. "I can't hear you, what did you say?" Why can't she hear me? She puts a finger to her ear and we both realise blood is coming from her ears.

This is not good. I learnt that after you hit your head, if you bleed from your nose, your eyes or your ears, it's a sign of brain damage. I grab my phone and call for an ambulance.

When they get here, my heart is beating so loudly, other people can probably hear it. The medical people (i have no idea what they're called) come rushing in.

"What happened?" A woman asks me. I glare at her. "She hit her head and now she's bleeding from her ears. You know what that means" I say. She nods.

"What's your mother's name?" A kind looking man asks. "Laura." I sigh. They all start asking her questions and measuring the rate of her pulse.

She then drops to the floor again. The medics rush to the ambulance and grab one of those stretchers. I gasp. This is bad. They carry her into the car and they say I can come.

I hold my mums hand, chewing my lip really hard. We get to the hospital in no time and they push her inside, telling me to wait in a seating area. Tears start running down my face and my eyes become two waterfalls, the water stream unstoppable.

A nurse then comes up to me. "Are you The daughter of Laura Wilson?" She asks. I nod wiping my tears away. "We've found a bleeding in her brain, so we are going to do all that we can to stop it, but it could be fatal" she says.

I shudder at the word fatal. She could die here. I drop to my chair and the nurse walks off. Bitch. All of them are so calm about everything and never trying to think what people like me might be feeling right now.

(Two hours later)

This can't be good. It's been ages since someone has spoke to me. I stay in my seat and see a doctor coming toward me. Here we go. "Are you the daughter of..." He looks to a sheet. "Laura Wilson?" He asks.

I nod and he looks at me sadly. "I'm afraid to say she didn't make it. We couldn't stop the bleeding. I'm very very sorry." I look at him. No. Tears start flooding my face and I fall back to my chair, my head in my hands.

She died. She died and my dad killed her. I start crying so loudly. I can't live my life without my mother in it, it's going to be even more shittier now.

(Four hours later at home)

I slam the door behind me and sink to the floor, still sobbing dramatically. I want her here. I want her to be here hugging me. But she's dead and it's all my dad's fault.

My eyes are all puffy and dry from crying so much so I go upstairs and wash my face. While I'm in the bathroom, I look at my wrist.

Cut. Cut. I keep telling myself. I grab the medical kit we have and grab the knife thing. I drag it across my wrist, but deeper this time, making more blood flow out.

The warmness of the blood starts to be taken over by icy coldness. I go back to my room, making sure blood doesn't trickle onto the cream coloured carpet. When I get to my room, I sit on my bed.

The blood has sort of like dried up a little but the actual cut is still spouting a little blood. I sigh. If my mums dead, I want to be too.

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