Dear Readers,

This is the edited version of chapter three. Some changes and additions. The next chapter will be new! Anny questions feel free to message me.

Sincerely,

Struggling Female Writer

Beep. Beep. Beep. I swear alarm clocks are the bane of my existence. My fingers probe for the elusive off button, and then I felt the ache. Though my body was kind enough to give a measly minute of solitude, I felt it. The hardened blood crusted on my thigh, the rhythmic pound of my head, and the dried tears staining down my face. Its semi unfathomable that I am alive due to the apparent blood lost. I should clean that out in case of infection but my will was abating away as the pain became more apparent.

"Get up Annabeth," The voice was coarse and almost unrecognizable as my own. My legs were glued to the sheets and I would lie about the meal I had to suppress so I didn't mingle with the other substances. It took a horrendous ten minutes of ripping the sheets from my legs. The stench wafting from the bed caused a headache on top of my head wound.

Freed from the gruesome mess, I limped over to the washing machine. I shoved all the sheets and remains of yesterday's pain into the machine and closed the lid. I would come back to that. Trudging back to the bedroom, I grabbed my phone and mad my way towards the bathroom.

The door was locked and I had finally steeled my nerves. I looked down to the cut and my stomach dropped. My swollen skin was vibrant red. The puncture went approximately an inch and a half into my leg. I clambered toward the sink, searched for the hydrogen peroxide and then returned to my seat on the tub. Twisting the knob, I left my fingers dangle beneath the faucet, awaiting a suitable temperature. I cupped, my hands and let the water wash away yesterday's sins.

My life seemed to be centered on red. Anger. Blood. Pain. All seemed to relate to the color. It was an affair like Luke. Harmful physically and mentally. Many associate with love but I can't. I have seen the dreadful part of it and there isn't away to wash it away. Alcohol had been my savior in years past, but I became destructive to myself. The liquor had made me uncontrollable to my friends and to myself. The wasn't a possibility with a control freak like me. Though it tempts me, forget the sorrows for a minute. All for the color red.

I hadn't realized the water was now chilly do to my internal monologue. Finishing with cleansing the surface of the pain, I grabbed the peroxide. Taking a nearby cotton swab, I tilted the bottle towards it. My grip was weak due to the water and the bottle slipped. The liquid tumbled into my wound. That's when I screamed.

Black dots sprouted in my vision. I couldn't feel or see or hear. Except the pain was there. A tortuous scream came from lips. Loud and steady until my breath ran short. My hands moved for my phone. My leg spastically shook from the self applied pain. Awhile my hands found the phone. I couldn't do it. My weakness sacred me and if I didn't get help, this wouldn't be probable. Mindlessly I dialed her number. Regret would soon come but now I needed her.

Ring. Goddammit Thalia. Answer. Ring. The pain seemed to of found renewed strength unlike me. It persisted on though I wasn't ready. Ring. Come on! Tears silently streamed down. Sobs threatened to escape my throat, but salvation came.

"What Chase?" Her voice was annoyed, probably had just been blissfully unconscious.

"Thals," My voice was unsteady and it was apparent, "Help."

I heard her stumbled from her bed following a string of curses. "I'm coming."

Relief was all I felt. For a millisecond that is until, my leg decided to capture my attention. An imaginary flamed danced across my leg. I bellowed with all my pain. Forgetting the abusive relationship and that Thalia was coming. All I felt was flame that was built into my skin. I lay on the ground, a helpless heap of blood with the tinge of antibiotics.

To consumed in my torture, I didn't hear the door bang open. Or the others that lead to the bedroom. Thalia must have heard me since the bathroom door flung open. Her black hair was sticking to her face and her eyes were wide.

"Annie," I felt her fingers grip my arm, but all I responded was a cry. "What did that bastard do!?" Her eyes explored my declined state. The sicken look was masked and she began to try to get my attention to her. "Annie. Annie! ANNIE!" She yelled to me. A wave came. Like a silent assassin. It wasn't playing fair and my head slumped down. Thalia began to cry and yell to me. I was dead to the world now.

With impaired vision, I saw her grip her phone. Her fingers seemed to race across the screen. The number was short and then I knew. She was calling the police.

"No. NO! No, no, no!" She looked as if she was about to break but she couldn't betray me like that! Luke would do more if she it! She was a traitor like Benedict Arnold and I wanted to scream at her. Yet my voice was lost, and all I could do was weep.

"991. What's your emergency?"

"My friend is here. She won't stop bleeding," I noticed the blood now that coated the tiles, "She's pale and unresponsive. GET OVER HERE NOW!"

"Yes ma'am. We are currently tracking your location. Please put pressure on the wound. The paramedics will be there shortly," A slight pause came and Thalia grunted angrily. "Miss, what is her current condition?"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK IDIOT!? She has major blood loss and you are an imbecile! Get the damn ambulance over her now or I swear I will pulverize you little nose!"

"Please stay calm Miss, they will be there short-"

"Hurry up! She has become unconscious!" It was true, her voice was merely a whisper and I couldn't hear much. My mind was crammed with ideas, but blank except for pain. My sight was completely gone and my hearing was all I had.

"FINALLY!" Thalia screamed. A male voice, or several, began to talk and gasp. Frigid finger made contact with my skin. They were like Luke's. Statue like and fast. I felt as if they would violate me too. I wanted to scream, but my body was immobile. Many hands gripped my body, lifting it up from the floor. They then lowered me onto something uncomfortable, and tights bound stuck me to it.

Then I heard a scream. It all went blank.

There are days were we all are weak. Either we are crumpled with a tube of ice cream, wallowing in pain from heart break. Or even we are sick of people expecting us to do it all. Holding the world isn't easy when all you want to do is curl up. I see this as a mistake. Wasting time being swindled into the current end of the world is naïve and unwise. My mother had taught me that when I had cried to her when I was six. I vowed to never be vulnerable again. I have failed her.