BABYGIRL 2.0: MODEL EDITION [DISCONTINUED]

DAMAGED BEYOND REPAIR II

You almost laughed at the irony.

The doctor looked at the teen troubled. Her boss had given her direct orders to treat you, tell you what was going to happen as the aftermath but to leave it at that. No questions. No keeping you because you might be a danger to yourself. To leave it.

As she looked at your dead eyes she was well ready to go against orders.

That's when the large hospital door opened.

Your father dressed in his tailored Armani suit came striding in. As usual, his presence demanding for you to recognize his power.

Dr. Berkeley watching as your body tensed but your eyes still on the ceiling.

"Mr. Sparrow I was-"

"You may go now, doctor. My daughter is being discharged and she will no longer be needing your assistance." His words are spoken with a warning, for if the doctor even thought about disobeying.

The doctor's eyebrows furrowing. "Discharged? With all du-"

"I will not ask again Doctor." Your father's tone is similar to the intimidation that a whip-cracking air brings.

Dr. Berkeley frowned deeply looking at you but inevitably excused herself. Leaving you alone with the monster that had a part in creating you.

You flinched as he drew closer to the hospital bed you laid in.

"Get up." He commanded. His grey eyes black.

You got up slowly, as quick as your recovering body would let you.

This was not fast enough for Edwin Sparrow.

Your body being pushed up almost making you fall off the bed. As your head was sent into a nauseous state. The room spinning.

He looked down upon you in utter disgust. "A coward. If you want death I can arrange that."

You took a deep breath trying to keep the bile at bay. Your grip on the bedding the only reason you hadn't fallen over.

"You try this again I'll put you in a mental asylum and leave you to grow up with the insane. Do you hear me?" His harsh words only half registering as the pounding of your brain against your skull could not be ignored.

You blinked no longer hearing words just distant sounds. Looking up at your father, his lips abruptly stopping their movements and he scowled.

All you could do is watch as his hand lifted becoming a fist and striking you harshly in the jaw. Then again. Again.

"I understand." You barely croaked out. Your throat sore from the tube that was there minutes before.

Your father straightened his suit and wiped your blood off of his bruised knuckles with the hospital covers.

"Get dressed. We are leaving." Then he left you to clean up the mess he made.

You specifically remembered leaving the hospital and there being paparazzi outside capturing pictures of your unhealthily skinny and pigment drained body.

The story was that you caught an incredibly bad case of food poisoning. A quite viral story. Everyone wanted to know what restaurant poisoned the billionaire Edwin Sparrow's child.

They never figured out it was a pharmacist.

Another chuckle erupted your body along with a hiccup. You wiped your hot tears away harshly with your forearm.