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Opening the freezer door, I begin pulling out a bunch of different types of ice cream.

“I get it. I’m not judging you.” I turn facing him. “As for you being gay, you want to fuck my ass?” I ask, raising a brow at him.

“Uh, no. No, I’m a, well, I’m a bottom.” For the first time Gabriel seems shy. Hm.

“Well, I have no intention to fuck your ass, the only ass I love to fuck is your sisters,” I say, walking away. Leaving Gabriel to gasp and then cough before yelling at me that he can’t unhear what I said.

Serves him right.

16

Izel

Thenexttwoweeksthings settle down, the three of us all getting into a routine. Gabriel and I spend a lot of time lying around on the couch watching TV shows we never got the chance to before. Zion most of the time sits with us, and at first it was slightly confusing when Gabriel and him actually start joking around and having fun. But it’s also nice. It’s rewarding to watch Gabriel come out of his shell and be able to be himself. It’s nice being able to relax again, but it doesn’t last long.

I wake up with Zion’s arms wrapped around my waist, and a dull pain in the middle of my stomach near my belly button. Unwrapping myself from his embrace, I hurry to the bathroom. Inching my way to the toilet, I relieve myself thinking it will help. Standing, I wash my hands, only the pain intensifies so much that my knees nearly give out.

I grip the countertop, and squeezing my eyes closed, I try to calm my breathing down. I don’t know what's wrong with me, but with every minute passing the pain becomes unbearable. I reach for the bathroom door. Twisting the knob my body crumbles and I fall to the floor.

I try to hold the scream in, but the moment my body hits the floor it escapes my lips. Zion immediately is at my side, his hands gripping my face to look up at him. Only I can’t. My arms wrap around my waist, and tears stream down my face.

“Red, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice fills with worry, his thumbs wiping my tears away, only being replaced by more.

"I-I don’t know,” I force out. Somehow the pain worsens, and I swear I’m going to burst.Something is wrong.

“Where, Red? Where does it hurt?” He tries to pry my hands from my side. Shaking my head, I can’t move. This seems to be the only thing that is holding me together right now.

“My stomach. I don’t know, my side, everything, Zion,” I cry out. I swear I’m going to pass out any minute now.

“Fuck, fuck.” He lets go of my face. “Gabriel!” he shouts. I can hear movement, dresser drawers opening and then the bedroom door.

“What the fuck?” Gabriel's sleepy voice calls out.

“Get dressed, she needs to go to the hospital,” Zion says, moving around the room.

I don’t hear Gabriel say anything, but a faint sound of movement down the hall.

Suddenly Zion’s arms wrap around me, and he lifts, carrying me out of the bedroom, Gabriel’s footsteps heavy behind us.

“Grab those keys,” Zion says before I’m hit with a cold draft. Car doors open and close before I’m set in the back seat, laying my head down on Gabriel’s lap. His fingers immediately go to my head, rubbing small circles at the base of my neck, just like he used to do when Dan beat me. I would smile at the tenderness, but another wave of pain comes, causing me to gag.

“Zion, how far are we?” Gabriel asks nervously. The truck roars to life two seconds before Zion is driving crazy. I can feel every bump and movement, my stomach moments from emptying everywhere.

“Twenty minutes,” he mutters, and I nearly sob at the thought. Twenty more minutes in pain. Granted it’s logically not that long, but I’m not sure I can handle another minute with this pain.

Gabriel starts to hum our favorite song. I know he’s trying to get me to sing along with him. It’s been our thing; I would get beat for standing up to Dan and Gabriel would tend to my wounds. We would sing together and cry.

“Come on, Izel, hold on…” I’m not sure if it’s Zion or Gabriel telling me this. My body starts convulsing I gag once more before my stomach empties itself. I’m aware of the warm mushy throw up seeping through my mouth everywhere. I want to apologize, but I can’t.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, no…” I swear it’s Zion chanting. The truck comes to a halt, the movement dragging another painful sob from me before I’m throwing up again.

I can feel movement. My eyes try to open but I feel so drained that I can’t even move my pinkie toe. Suddenly I’m plunged into darkness.

My eyes shoot open, blinded by a bright light. Squeezing them shut once more, I take a deep breath. My left side aches as I try to shift.

“Don’t move,” a faint familiar voice says beside me.

I can hear footsteps nearing, the bed slightly dipping before their hand presses against my right hand. “Izel?”