Why Me? Tell Me

“Hey Camille, wake up,” Joe said. I groggily opened my eyes to see his brown ones looking down on me. “It’s time to wake up. You’re going home ,” he said. I stretched my arms, but I felt as if every inch of my body was all bruised and banged up.

“That’s because you are all bruised and banged up,” I thought sadly. I shook my head. “That’s not the right mindset or attitude for today. At least I’m alive.” I looked over to Joe. I mean I wasn’t checking him out or anything; I was just curious to what he was wearing.

Joe was looking at the dying daffodils they bought me while I was at the hospital, along with the obnoxious “Get Well Soon!” balloons that were losing helium. His dark blue skinny jeans fit him perfectly and stylishly matched his light blue T-shirt. He wore his nerd glasses. I couldn’t help thinking that he was tres cute. Wait ew, gag me. No.

“So I’m going home now?” I asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence of the room. I brought my eyes up to look at him. He gave me a sad look, like I was a lost puppy. I sure did feel like one. “Well, I don’t really want to stay at my house, let alone sleep there. Too many haunting memories, ya know?” I said, looking down.

Joe shook his head in agreement. He coughed. “Well you could stay at our house if you like. My mom really wants you to stay if you want to. I mean I know you’re going through a tough time, and we’re here for you. My family I mean. And me too if you want. And I mean you don’t have to go through this alone. I mean..”

I laughed. He was rambling. It was…cute. “Joe, I get it. This week has been….hectic to say the least but I am fine. For now. I promise if I’m on the edge of a breakdown, you’ll be able to tell. I’m a pretty open book.” I laughed quietly again, as if trying to convince him that I was alright. I really wasn’t but I wasn’t about to tell Joe that.

I tried to get up, but my arms collapsed from under me. I fell back onto the bed with a big “thump!” I groaned. “No cool, dude,” I whispered under my breath. Joe just gave me a look. It was a cross between a dying squirrel and a sad puppy. “What?” I said, annoyed that I couldn’t get myself up.

He shook his head at my stubbornness. “Camille, you may be going home, but you are going to be in a wheelchair for at least two weeks. Your body is weak, but you’re getting better. Don’t push it, will ya?” He smirked, like he knew that he was getting to play hero for the next two weeks. I rolled my eyes.

“Well help me into a wheelchair, you buttface,” I said, wiping that smirk off his face. “And if you think I’m gonna need your help, you got another thing coming pretty boy. I think that’s Nick’s job. He is my best friend.” His face fell but only for a moment.

Joe took his turn to roll his eyes, as he helped me into a wheelchair. “Well unfortunately for you, Nick is at home. I stole the car before he could wake up and come with me. So looks like you need my help for now.” He stuck his tongue out at me.

“Whatever,” I said, thoroughly defeated. “You might have won this battle, but the war is just beginning.”

The car ride there was a silent one. There was no music or laughing or having fun like before. It was just silent. I mean not the “I hate your guts” kind of silence. More like the “You’ve been through a lot. I’ll let you think” kind of silence. Not that I hated that. It was just…different. I mean Joe was usually the one to make things better, although he was a jerk sometimes.

I sighed and looked at my window, looking for familiar sights. Finally, we pulled up to my house. That house…where everything in my life came crashing down in one night. In one night, I went from having a mother that loves me with a pretty great life to an orphan with a maniac father and a dead mom. I started to tear up. “No,” I thought. “I’m going to be strong. I have to be strong.”

Joe got out and went to my door to help me into the wheelchair. “It’s going to be alright,” Joe said to me. I smiled, even though I knew that there was worst to come. A daunting, eerie feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed and nodded my head. “So do you want to go into your house now?” Joe asked me. “I mean I could wheel you to my house, and we can go in there later. Or you can go with Nick later.” He gave me a funny look that I couldn’t pinpoint the meaning.

I shook my head. “No, I need to do this now,” I said quietly. My head was pounding. My heart going a million miles per hour. “Please, come with me, Joe. I don’t think I can do this alone.” He nodded a quick yes and wheeled me into the house.

It looked the same, but it really wasn’t in my mind. The police already gathered all the evidence of that night from the house. There was a distinct smell of blench to get rid of the blood. My blood. My mom’s blood. I shivered as if to repress the horrible memory. “Take me to my mom’s room,” I whispered.

Joe picked me up out of the chair, bridal style, and we started upstairs. Normally, this kind of situation I would be freaking out about how I was in THE Joe Jonas’s arms…but this was not a normal situation. Tears began to form in my eyes. Flashbacks to that night played over and over in my head as he took each step. I tried to say “Go to my mom’s room” but my voice got caught in my throat. Joe seemed to understand my lack of sound and brought me there.

He laid me down on the bed and sat down next to me. I tried to swallow the tears but my throat felt as if it was closed up, shut like glue. My watery eyes were glued to the bed side table. “This is it,” I thought. “This is what I need to read. I reached my hand out, pulled the drawer out, and there it was. A single envelope. I pulled it out and put it on my lap.

I sighed. “You can do it, Camille,” Joe said quietly. “Read it.”

I nodded my head silently, as if I were afraid if I spoke that the tears would not be able to stop. I began to open the letter, silently dreading the words it contained.