A/N I always loved writing...But it feels as though nobody likes my writings...I need to know from all of ya'll If I should keep updating or if I shouldn't.
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I stared at his ceiling not moving, for I was afraid to hurt my stomach again.

Steven sat in a chair at his desk. I stared at one of his posters.

'He should've let me die. He should've et me bleed to death.' I thought over an over again.

I thought about my mom and how she'd sing to me when I was hurt. She used to sing 'Mocking Bird' to me, I realized I was humming it.

I closed my eye's after humming the song.

When I woke up the light was off and it was dark. I heard soft breathing on the floor by the bed. I sat up slowly, and saw the outline of Steven.

I coughed loudly to get his attention, and he jumped 'Susan? Do you need anything?' he whispered.

'No.' I said. 'Are you comfertable down there?' I asked concerned.

'He should be on the bed not me. I should be dead or in my own bed.' I thought to myself.

He sat up. 'No not really.' He said roughly.

I slide my legs over the edge of the bed.

'What are you doing?' He asked.

'Getting up so you can lay down.'

'I'm fine.'

'NO your not.' I agrued.

'Yes I am.'

'No your not.' I growled.

I stood and he did to.

'Lay back down.'

'NO.'

'Yes.'

'No. You should sleep on the bed.'

'Your injured so no I don't'...

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A/N Okay is it good? or is it bad? I know I suck. Just tell me it's all good. It's not like I'll bite your face off like Brent. LOL.
R&R!