Over the next hour, she was facing the wall, away from Dylan. Tears silently slid down her face, so she didn't disturb him. Her trauma was coming to light, which didn't make her aches or fever any better. She was, however, texting Dylan's mom and Taylor.

'He asked what I meant by earlier, and I said nothing. I don't wanna talk about it, what James did. And, I guess that pissed Dylan off. He hasn't spoken to me since.' She texted back.

"Babes, the key to a good relationship is communication," Taylor sent back.

'I know, but it hurts too damn much to talk about it. Cops hounded me with questions after you guys left. I feel like I can't breathe or get away, out of James's grasp.' she responded. 'I just don't know what to do. I feel shitty, and now, I pissed Dylan off.'

'I know he ain't, I never said he was.' She texted back.

She just read the text, and shut her phone off. Nobody was getting it, no one. She couldn't just spill everything out, trauma didn't work that way. She felt sick to her stomach, and grabbed the trash bin, vomiting again. However, in the rushed process, her IV ripped out of her arm. "Ow..." She groaned.