HURT FOR ME

Chapter One - Defeated

The few days I've been conscious, I've spent thinking how much easier it would be for everyone if my parents had just let me go. I didn't want this kind of life for myself. Waiting on a long list of patients who needed a new body part before theirs stopped working, spending all of my days in an uncomfortable bed, and watching as the people around me continue living their normal lives while I'm just here surviving.

I'm a 21-year-old woman, I should be spending these years getting wasted in random nightclubs in random cities with random people, not in this prison.

The click of a door startled me from my thoughts causing me to peel my attention from my lap and a young, handsome man entered the room wearing blue scrubs and a white jacket. His pearly white teeth shined as he smiled at me.

"Hello, Ms. Bennett." He was now standing beside my bed, stretching out a hand.

I hesitated for a moment but reached my hand out anyway, shaking his, "Olivia is fine."

"Okay, Olivia, I'm Dr. Kavanaugh." His name was familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. To be honest, I couldn't remember much of anything since waking up. My brain was just a cloud of nothingness now.

I offered him a shy smile before returning my eyes to the paper but it was obvious he wasn't here to just introduce himself, I knew bad news was coming by the pathetic expression that covered his face now.

"Over this 2-year period, we've closely monitored the status of your cancer, and although it's getting better with the medication, your insurance isn't offering to pay for it anymore." His tone was far more serious now than it was moments before.

This didn't come as a surprise to me. I couldn't remember much but I'd never forget that money wasn't something I had enough of. My parents decided to keep me here but want me to manage all of these hospital bills alone. What's the point of living a life in constant fear the medication keeping you here couldn't be paid for?

"Now that she's awake, does she have to stay here all of the time?" My mother's question broke through the tension in the room.

"Well," he rubbed his hand across his chin, "once she is able to eat, drink and move around, by herself of course, I don't see a reason for her to have to stay any longer."

I was relieved to hear those words. I just want to go home and get back to the life I was living before all of this.

What life was I living two years ago? That was something I needed to figure out.

"Olivia, you can get back on your feet and find a job to pay for the medication." Her tone was sharp and pressing.

I ran my hand over my face, "of course." I answered with a sarcastic smile.

"Can you give us a minute, doctor?" My father gestured toward the door and gave Dr. Kavanaugh a pleading look.

"Absolutely," he nodded and looked at me, "Olivia, if you have any questions or concerns, please don't be afraid to ask." His pearly white smile was back and he turned on his heel, leaving just me and my parents in the room.

My mother's arms were crossed over her chest and I could feel the heat of her stare from where she stood on the other side of the room. She pursed her lips as she watched my every movement and I couldn't help but feel like I was under a microscope being observed.

"Do you think once you're stable, you'll be able to manage to have a job?" My dad looked at me with an understanding smile waiting for my response. He was always the best at hiding his true feelings. He didn't care if I would be able to manage or not, once the doctor cleared me to leave, they'd send me off on my own and wish me good luck.

"Yes," I said dryly. I didn't care to engage in conversation with them, I'd just let them have it their way because it was always easier when I took that route.

The clock's loud ticking filled the silence in the room and the sunlight shining directly in from the large window blocked my mother from my vision.

I knew she was unhappy with me but she just wouldn't say it. They despised me as a little girl but would never admit it.

A simple "you're our least favorite child and our biggest regret." would have been enough explanation for all of the mistreatment I'd received from them when I was young.

I'm sure they would have beaten me just like they did my younger sister if my uncle didn't already have that department covered. But he did much more than beat me, worse even. The late nights my parents had to blow all of their money at the pub down the street from our house, my uncle spent touching me. Every part of me. Parts that shouldn't have been seen or touched by any man until I was ready.

"Please, stop! It hurts!"

My younger self's words echoed in my head and I could feel the torment all over again.

Although I couldn't remember much from my accident or about my life before, these demons still haunted me like the Boogeyman in my closet. These monsters were relentless, scratching at every bit of my sanity each day.

A wave of goosebumps covered my arms as the thoughts clouded my mind. I wish this coma would have taken every memory I'd ever had.