We Are Broken

Chapter 3:

Chapter 3:

I woke up to a constant beeping sound.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I wanted it to stop. The high pitched noise hurt my ears.

I slowly opened up my eyes, taking in the environment. Once again, I was surrounded by the familiar white walls of a hospital. The smell of sickness and death was in the air. Sadly, I wasn't apart of the dead.

My arms had been bandaged up in white gauze Wires poked out through the gauze, leading up to an IV. The beeping noise that had awoken me was the heart monitor, making sure that I was still alive. Not a single person was inside of the hospital room.

Laying back in bed, I closed my eyes. Why am I still alive? How am I still alive? Slowly memories began to pop up. Someone had been banging on the door, trying to get in. Had they succeeded? Is that how I'm still alive?

“You're awake!” Came Dr. Chanaway's deep voice.

“Go away.” I mutter, not having enough strength to yell at him. Everything hurt.

“Fay, we need to talk about what had happened in the bathroom.” he says.

I don't answer, not saying anything is my best move at this point. There was no excuse in his mind for what I had tried to do. His job was to focus on me being rehabilitated. This little incident just made his job harder. That's all I was to him, a job.

“I want to help you, you just have to let me.” he tells me. “If Carter hadn't helped me, it probably would have been too late.”

“Carter helped you?” I hissed out of anger. Rage coursed through my entire body.

He nods. “He is the one who kicked down the door.”

A new task was at hand. As soon as I am released, I am going to kill him. I want to stab him. I want to make him suffer like I am suffering. He is the reason I am still alive. He is the reason that I won't be able to try again for a couple of weeks. This is all his fault.

“When will I be released?” I asked Dr. Chanaway.

“A week or two. They want to keep you in here for observation.” he explains. “I should forewarn you, once you return home things are changing. The locks are being taken off the bathrooms. Your door has been taken off it's hinges. You will not allowed to be behind a closed door unless you're in the bathroom. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” I mumbled.

“One more incident like this, and you will be forced to wear a straight jacket most of the day.” Dr. Chanaway threatens. “Neither of us want that.”

It wouldn't be my first time in a straight jacket. After I had been rescued, they had shoved me into one. They were afraid that I would attack them. I knew that it was really the other way around. They would attack me as soon as they had the chance.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asks me.

I shake my head. The thought of food made me sick. For now I would just make sure that I didn't eat. It would be a slow process, but eventually that would be able to kill me.

“I have to head home to the others now,” he tells me. “I will be back in the morning. Good night, Fay.”

I don't respond. To be honest, I don't think he was expecting me to either. Instead he just left the room with a sigh.

Carter's Point of View

“The whore didn't die?” I ask as soon as Dr. Chanaway enters my room.

He glares at me. “Don't call her a whore, Carter.”

“I'll call her what she is.” I assured him. “I'm a bastard. She's a whore. You're a dumb ass. We all have titles.”

“Don't call yourself that.” he tells me.

Why shouldn't I? That's what I am? It's what I have been called my whole life. It doesn't matter who calls me it, it's what I am. There is no changing it. I will always be a bastard.

“Could you at least pretend to be nice to her?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “She wants to suck my dick. That's all she will want from me.”

“For the last time, Carter, don't call her a whore.” he shouts at me.

My eyes widen in shock. Never in my time here have I heard him raise his voice. He didn't yell at me the first time I had been caught in the middle of having sex. He didn't yell at me when he found my stash of weed or alcohol. Now that that little whore has come along, he starts to yell at me. She has him already wrapped around her little fingers. How many times has she pleasured him for this type of protectiveness?

Dr. Chanaway sits down on my bed, running a hand through his hair. “Can you at least attempt to be nice to her? She's having a rough time.”

“She can go fuck herself.” I tell him.

“Carter, can't you at least make things a little easier on me?” he begs, defeated.

Every session I have with him, he tries to get me to open up about my past. I never give him anything. Instead I just tell him to go fuck off or bull shit answer so that he will leave me alone. After all of this time I never thought the day would come where he would give up.

Sometimes you have to throw a dog a bone.

“Bastard is the name I grew up with.” I tell him.

He looks at me, eyes wide. I could see the conflict in his eyes. Dr. Chanaway was outraged that I had grown up being called that. On the other hand, he was sympathetic that I had to suffer through that for years.

To my surprise, he didn't ask for me to go into further detail. Instead he gave me a small smile.

“Thank you.” he whispers to me. I watch as he retreats out the doorway.

Once he was gone, I reached under my bed to pull out a bottle of tequila. As memories began to resurface, I drank. This was one of the only ways I could keep the nightmares away. The pills that he made me take, didn't do anything. The only thing that worked was drinking or snorting.

Even with the self medication, I couldn't drown out his eyes. The dark orbs stared at me every time I closed my eyes.

He was always watching me. No matter where he was or where I am. He is always watching me. I can never get away from him, no matter how fast I run.

One day, he will come back for me. The next time, I won't be so lucky.

_________

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