Now that the trial has been put to rest, Rueben believes that life is on an upward trend. It's not long before he understands he is sadly mistaken.
Around every corner lies a new demon lurking with the desire to rip the rug out from under him. He m...
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𝗘den rested her hands on either side of her body, supporting her weight against the hospital bed. She kicked her legs over the side at a rhythmic tempo as she bit the edges of her mouth. Since they arrived here, they were separated – she hadn't seen Blaine or Maverick in thirty minutes.
It wasn't that she was scared to be alone or had some type of anxiety disorder – that wasn't it. She just hated places like these. The places where people come and expect others to take care of them. The places where people relied on modern medicine and drugs to help them live. She hated it because it was all so normalized.
Drugs are not normal.
And pain that could only be healed by them shouldn't be defined as okay by society.
This place was just a money hole – like quicksand – they extorted the people they're supposed to be helping, without actually giving a crap about the after effects of said treatment. Unless, of course, if it had to do with money.
American healthcare was a joke.
Eden looked up fast as the door to her room clicked open. She let out an expected breath, feeling sad as the doctor that was looking after her walked in, and not her friends. He gave her a small smile, to which she returned. Regardless of her personal feelings, everyone deserves kindness.
Until they didn't.
"Miss. Flores," the doctor spoke, "How are we feeling now?"
"B – better," she answered.
She ignored the puzzled look on his face. She always did. She was used to that by now. The strange looks – the ignorance of others when it came to her stutter. Everyone thought that she stuttered as a result of some recent event, but that wasn't it. For as long as she could remember, she had this disability. It dated back to her childhood and how she was raised.
If those people cared less about the drugs that healed their misery and more about the child they forced to exist in this tragic world, then maybe things would be different.
"Do you mind if I do another physical check?"
She nodded and popped off the bed.
Eden turned and grabbed the edge of her shirt, pulling it halfway off her body. She winced when the doctor touched her. Not because it hurt, but simply because his hands were freezing. The exam lasted another couple minutes.
"Alright, you can sit again."
She listened.
"—you experienced a pretty severe injury during your fall, Miss. Flores. I'm actually shocked that you are still able to walk without a limp," he wrote on his clipboard, "However, it seems like the Vicodin we've administered to you has been working nicely. I recommend a week of bed rest."
