(Hello everyone! I'm still looking for a program for a trailer but I'm thinking I'd like to have one of you make it! Or if you know someone who makes good trailers could you ask them to help me? You can PM me if you want to make it and we'll see where it goes from there. I just REALLY REALLY REALLY want to get this fic out there, you know? Favorite/follow/review! Enjoy the story, lovelies!)

11

You could try and take us (oh-oh)
But we're the gladiators (Oh! Oh!)
Everyone a rager (oh-oh)
But secretly they're saviors
Glory and gore go hand in hand
That's why we're making headlines (Oh! Oh!)
You could try and take us (oh-oh)
But victory's contagious

-Lorde, Glory and Gore

•~•~•~•~•

This morning, a friend of Ross' snuck around the investigators surrounding the sorority house and dropped off my car for me. I was so relieved, I needed to get back 'home' after all this madness. I was ready to face what I had coming.

I wince at the loud noise of the engine combined with the noise of the tires against the long driveway. I get out and hurry to the door, picking my keys out of my jeans familiar click sounds and I open the door.

As soon as I'm inside, my head is slammed against the wall with a crushing force.

I lose my balance and scream as I feel the warm, sticky liquid pour out the side of my head. I barely catch myself in time to save my head from falling onto the marble floor. I feel a sharp pulling in my wrists followed by horrible stinging. I can barely flex them and I know they're at least sprained from the impact of the fall. On my hands and knees, I tremble and take my hand to the side of my throbbing skull. It comes back with my blood smeared on my fingertips.

"Look at me, whore!" His familiar voice booms around me, causing the pain in my head to intensify. My hearing is muffled and it feels like I'm swimming underwater. I turn slowly, cautious to not fall over.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER MY CALLS?!" His boot swings back and hurtles into my stomach before I can say anything. I gasp loudly, grasping my stomach and struggling to breathe as tears run freely down my face.

"I-I..." I try to form a coherent sentence, but it comes out as a string of unintelligible mumbles and gagging noises. My throat aches and is completely dry, and I can't get any sound to come out of it.

"ANSWER ME!" He says, stalking forward swiftly before grabbing a fist full of my hair and yanking me back to look him in the eyes. Every follicle on my head screams to be released and my throat and head hurt so bad I can't even think straight. I can barely see his menacing snake-like green eyes but I can tell that they're full of anger, hatred, and evil. So much evil.

He sees the fear and panic in my eyes and smirks, reeling his fist back. I squeal like a pig and cover my face out of reflex. Instead of hitting my blocking arms like I expected, his fist hits the place he just struck with his boot. I scream as loud as I possibly can, but I know that nothing will come of it. Robby soundproofed the entire house. I clutch my stomach in agony, and I barely catch the words that leave his lips.

"Your face is the only part of you that I won't touch." He says into my ear. I shiver and I can't even move from all the pain in my body. With that, he grips my wrists in his hands and hoists me up. Searing pain shoots through the damaged joints and if I had the energy I would scream instead of whimper. My feet dangle a few inches above the ground before he sets me on them. My legs almost give out from under me and the throbbing all over my body is unbearable. I look behind me and realize that he threw my head into the entryway mirror. I have no clue if I have small shards of it in my head or not. My eyes widen and I feel like throwing up. If my stomach wasn't empty then I'm sure I would.

"You're going to regret that little stunt you pulled." He says menacingly. "When I'm done with you, you'll wish you were dead." I whimper as he pulls me by my now bruised and injured wrist down the hallway. There's a few steps that lead down into the lowered living room and he pushes me down them, catapulting me forward to fall onto my hands once again. There's a sickening crunching sound and I scream so lhurt that I start to cough afterwards. Now I know I've broken something.

I hear his boots steps echo off the marble behind me and he grabs my shoulder and digs his fingers in so hard I know they're already starting to bruise and he spins me around. I lose my balance once again and I'm sitting up, barely able to prop myself up with my injured arms. He stomps in my left calf and I start seeing stars. I can't even scream anymore, it comes out as a weak rasp. He kicks the exact spot one more time before spitting on the carpet next to me, barely missing my thigh, and turning around. "Go to your room, you little slut!" His voice dripping with evil.

I sob to myself for the next thirty minutes before realizing that if he comes back and sees me in the same spot he left me, I really will be in danger. I go at a snail's pace, using the leather couch to prop myself up into a standing position using my elbows, since it felt like my forearms, specifically my wrists, had been ripped off. Eventually I'm standing.

I struggle to walk, skipping from one piece of furniture to the next for support. After about an hour, I finally reach the stairs. I'm grateful that Robby hasn't walked back in yet. He's probably downing that expensive scotch he keeps in his liquor cabinet. What a jackass.

With each step I advance up the stairs, I bite my tongue. It takes every fiber of willpower in me to not cry out in pain every time I move my left leg. He was right, I do wish I was dead.

•~•~•~•~•

I didn't sleep one wink all weekend, as much as every part of my body begs for it. I think I have a concussion, and I think I heard somewhere that you just have to stay awake for the next 24 hours after it happens, I don't want to take any chances, knowing if I'm wrong I could go into a coma. I can't see for shit, I have a huge migraine that every slight bit of light intensifies, and I can't think or stay focused on anything. My body feels dead from all the pain and aching combined with the lack of sleep, but at the same time the pain tells me that I'm still alive. This isn't a nightmare. This isn't hell. This is both of those things, except in my world. This is a waking nightmare, a living hell.

I did sleep in yesterday, which was Monday, because I couldn't fight the need for sleep any longer. I slept all day, so I missed all of my classes, only adding to my stress. I woke up this morning and the sleep did wonders, but I still limp when I walk and all of the pain is still there. I get dressed in some leggings, Ugg boots and a gray CSU hoodie. I curl the ends of my hair and apply a little bit of eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. I can't let people know that something's wrong by looking like shit. I put the lip gloss in my bag just in case I need it later. I walk into the bathroom and wrap my wrists with gauze to keep them from moving around as much and slide the sleeves to my hoodie over them, thankful that the sleeves conceal most of the gauze.

The drive to campus feels longer than usual. I probably need my head stitched up and my wrists and leg probably need casts but God knows I can't go to a hospital, so I just need to tough it out. I need to go to work tonight anyways. No matter what happens I'm always getting deeper and deeper. I don't know how much longer I can take this, will I ever be okay? I called my family last night and that eased some of the hurt, but I still have no clue what I'm doing.

I haven't talked to Tess since the night I stayed in her room. I don't know what to say. And I don't want to talk to anyone as it is.

I go through all my classes without saying a word, except Science. My Professor kept calling on me to answer questions, I swear he hates me.

When time comes around for Literature, I start feeling a little better. I walk through campus trying to sort out my messy binder and smiling like a maniac for no reason whatsoever. I'm beginning to scare myself, am I going crazy? Maybe.

I push the doors open and scan the room. Mr. Mathers is the only one here, I must be really early. I shrug and take my seat in the middle of the front row, organizing my binder until it's perfectly sorted out. I put it on my lap in case I need it and the door opens again. I look up and I can't help the smile that creeps up to my lips when I see the familiar guy who I swore was an angel when I first met him. He returns it, which is odd but nice since he never smiles, and comes to sit next to me. When he sits down his frown return and my smile drops.

"Why weren't you here yesterday?"

Just the question I was hoping he wouldn't ask.

My face must've given off some of my panic, because he says my name sternly, waiting for an answer. Thankfully, I compose myself and decide to act playful.

"What, were you looking for me?" I smirk.

His eyes go wide and he swallows. He coughs slightly before answering a quiet, "Maybe." My heart flutters, he didn't want me to hear that, but I did.

I find confidence in his lack of. "I was sick." I lie, shrugging.

"Oh." He looks like he wants to say something, but he bites his tongue and looks ahead, avoiding my eyes.

"So have you decided?" He asks, pushing a pencil back and forth between his fingers on his desk.

My brow furrows in puzzlement. "What?"

"Do you think we could be friends?" He rephrases.

I had admittedly been contemplating that question all weekend, and I decided to give it a shot. If I think it's a bad idea later on, I can just avoid him for the rest of the year. I'm sure it'll be easy enough.

"Well, we're not enemies," I start. He smiles when he recognizes his words from a few days ago, before it goes back to his frown. "So we might as well be friends."

His face lights up and he faces me. "That's a yes?" He asks, dumbfounded.

I nod ad the simple action caused the biggest smile that I've ever seen him make adorn his lips. It's strange, but nice. A warm feeling spreads through me, making me forget my injuries, at the knowledge that I'm the cause of such a sight.