Chapter 130 Heartache
Brad burst into the hospital, carrying me, blood-soaked and all. People stepped aside, whispering about what kind of crime could've led to this. Brad's icy glare shut them up real quick.
No one wanted to get involved.
The ER doctor, a guy in his thirties, asked me to open my mouth. When he saw the wound, he looked shocked, maybe even a bit impressed.
He calmly stopped the bleeding. The pain from the cotton swab jolted me awake.
He said the wound was deep and needed stitches, adding that my teeth were sharp and my heart ruthless to do this to myself.
How could I explain that I'd rather die than lose my dignity? Biting your tongue to commit suicide took guts. Who'd do that unless it was life or death? I was not stupid.
Brad coughed, annoyed. The doctor got the hint, shrugged, and told the nurse to prep for stitches.
I saw another doctor with a needle. He asked me to open my mouth, and then a sharp pain hit. Everything went black.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed with an IV drip. Brad was next to me, holding my hand.
Lately, I've been in the hospital more than ever, especially since getting mixed up with the Pitt family. It's been one life-threatening situation after another.
Brad's strong, beautiful fingers held mine firmly but gently.
I thought about the post Brad put up a few days ago and laughed.
Brad looked at me, his eyes bloodshot.
Laughing hurt my stitched wound, making me break out in a cold sweat and tear up.
Brad rubbed my thumb gently but said, "The doctor said no big movements. You can only have liquids through a straw, or it'll mess up the healing and might leave some lasting effects. So, stay quiet."
"What kind of effects? Is it serious?" I tried to speak louder, but my voice was weak and hoarse.
Brad looked serious. "Not too serious, but the injury to your tongue might make it hard to speak clearly. But since you're a painter, you can express everything through your art."
Just thinking about it gave me goosebumps.
I didn't want to end up like that; it was terrifying.
Maybe my face looked awful because Brad smiled helplessly, ruffled my hair, and said, "Don't be scared. I was just teasing. But you really do need to stick to liquids. You bit so deep. Didn't it hurt?"
Brad started rambling, sounding like he was complaining, but I knew he was worried and scared.
"When I heard you scream, I almost lost it. I was so afraid I was too late. Seeing you covered in blood made me furious. If I had a knife, I would've killed them."
Even now, Brad's anger was palpable.
"It's not worth it," I said.
Brad shot back, "It is worth it. For you, anything is worth it. Jane, stop doubting yourself. You deserve the best, not always stepping back or accommodating others. To me, you come first."
I never expected this side of Brad.
I wanted to laugh but my tongue hurt too much, so I didn't.
"Brad, if something really bad happened to me, would you still love me?" I asked suddenly.
"Nonsense," Brad scolded, his gaze serious, "I love you for who you are."
"Brad, I know," I quickly interrupted.
Brad's expression softened.
"I want to pursue this, but it's up to you," he said.
"Of course, I want to pursue it. Zoe's actions were vile. She has to face the consequences," I replied.
"Alright," Brad kissed my hand, making me blush. He chuckled, "Most girls would stay silent, swallowing their grievances. That's why I asked."
This incident enraged both of us. No matter who Zoe was, Brad wouldn't let her off. But I still didn't know Daniel's role in all this.
"Don't worry. Leave it to me. I'll handle it," Brad said.
After a long night, I was exhausted and wanted to sleep.
The door opened, and two stumbling footsteps pulled me from my drowsiness.
Daniel appeared, holding Zoe by the collar and pushing her forward.
Zoe bit her lip, took a few steps, and fell in front of my bed, tears welling up.
My head started to ache.
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