Purely Arrogant | ✓

Prologue

Prologue

"She hasn't been the same after the accident" My aunt confessed, worry and fear laced in her tone.

I flinched besides her, causing both her and the doctor to look my way. I refused to meet them in the first eyes. I refused to look into the pity that was saved just for me.

It wasn't that I was unfamiliar with that sentence.

It was that I was tired of hearing it.

Ever since the accident, people had been walking around me, like I was so easily shattered. Like saying the wrong thing could cause my world to fall apart.

Didn't they know my world was already broken?

Weren't they aware of the fact that my world no longer existed?

That it could never be repaired.

They were always so careful about what they said to me. What they said around me. They thought that if they said something wrong, that I would spiral into self loathing.

Maybe depression.

Didn't they know that I was far too gone?

Didn't they know that depression and self loathing was a step in the right direction?
Because maybe then I'd actually be able to feel something.

Maybe then, I wouldn't feel so numb.

"I'm aware that you're worried about your niece, Ms Harte. But what you need to understand is that Miss Hunter has experienced a traumatic event. I'm afraid to say it, but there's a very small chance she'll go back to the way she was a few months ago"

The doctor was about 29 years old. He had blonde hair and brown eyes. I wasn't particularly fond of him. Then again, I wasn't fond of many doctors. They were all the same. They were either unsympathetic or too sympathetic.

There was no in between.

Doctor's visits always made me nervous. They always had me feeling queasy, always leaving me a sick feeling in my stomach. It wasn't that I was afraid of the doctors, well not in the sense of feeling pain.

More in the sense of being afraid of what they'll say.

Over the past few months I had been visiting the doctors almost twice a week. They were always checking to see if I was physically damaged.

It was only last week they thought about checking my mental health.

So that's what I was here for. To see how I was doing.

To know if I was crazy or not.

And of course, my aunt being the worrier she was, spent the entire first half of the visit expressing her worries about me. But they were always the same. They were always along the lines of 'She's been acting differently' or 'She hasn't been eating' or 'She barely leaves her room', oh and the infamous 'When will she say more than three words per day?'

Of course, I was beginning to get sick of the smothering and the worrying, maybe even suffocated.

"I think you should be sat down, when I say this" The doctor continued, mostly looking at my aunt who was all but pacing in his office. She lifted her arm, to place her fingernails between her teeth, chewing them out of nervousness. The doctor then turned to face me, almost forcing me to stare into his dull brown eyes. "I don't want you to be too worried about the next few words that come out of my mouth"

Yes, because that sentence made me feel much better.

"I've never seen a case like this" he started, keeping the eye contact with me. I broke the contact with him, and looked down at my lap. My hands were at my sides, I brought them together and began fumbling with them, clenching and unclenching my fists, desperate to feel some pain. To feel something.