The bad girls bad boy ✓

f o u r t e e n

Chapter 14 | You can't hold me here against my own free will!

'PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress disorder| • a condition of persistent mental and emotional stress occurring as a result of injury or severe psychological shock, typically involving disturbance of sleep and constant vivid recall of the experience, with dulled responses to others and to the outside world.'

Listen to 'The outside' by Taylor Swift for this chapter.

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After Jaysen left two days ago, I had my wound stitched up and now they have put different ointments on and wrapped a clean bandage on. The cut was really deep and punctured a blood vessel in my hand. The doctors did the best they could to fix it and said it will take up to three months for the muscles to reknit together again. They have given me some dihydrocodeine to ease the pain.

A knock sounds on my door. I yell a weak "come in" and the door swings open, stepping in is Dr. Calvin.

"Hello." I give a weak smile as he walks over to me with a clipboard and pen. He takes a seat next to me and gives me a sad smile. Why so glum?

"Alina. We are aware that your family is out of town. Correct?" he demands, double checking. Another one of my little white lies. My parents aren't out of town. But if they got called, who knows what they would do. It's better for all of us.

I nod my head meekly and signal him with my eyes for him to continue. He clears his throat and darts his eyes around the sheet of paper laid in front of him. He scratches his head awkwardly and then sighs. "There is no easy way to tell you this...so I'm going to tell it the way it is," He takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes for a brief moment. "Last night, whilst we were analysing you, we noticed to sleep-talk. I have some theories on what might be going on, but it was scary watching you sleep. You weren't peaceful. It was like, even while you were sleeping, your mind creates odd or horrible scenes that cause a restless night. I think it is best to see a thera-"

"You want me to see a therapist?!" I yell, cutting him off. "God! I'm not depressed!" At least I don't think I am. "I'm perfectly fine."

"If you'll just let me explain-"

"No fucking way! I need to get out of here," I pull the covers off myself and begin walking to the door with a limp. Dr. Calvin tries to stop me, saying that he'll call security if I don't get back in the bed straight away. "No! I refuse. You can't hold me here against my own free will!"

"Security! We need you here at level two, room forty-three. Fast!" thee doctor yells through a walkie-talkie. Two large men come running from the other end of the hall and chase after me.

A stitch begins to form on my side and all my limbs grow weak at light speed. My whole body aches but I push myself further. I need out. I've been locked up here past my comfort zone.

I see an open door and light comes from the other end of it. I start panting hard, the air becoming too thick to breathe but I keep on pushing to the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the two large security guards gaining on me. So close... My hands reach out to grab the handle but two hands grab one of my wrists and another set of hands grab the other, dragging me back to my personal "cell."

I begin to thrash as my bare feet slide against the cold stone floor. "Let me go, you fat oafs! You can't hold me here against my own free will!" I yell at the guards. One of them tightens their grip on my wrist and I screech in pain.

"I'd be careful with my tone if I were you, young lady." The man growls out, loosening his grip ever so slightly on my wrist. But not by much.

"My lawyers will hear about this!" If I had any. "Let me go! I just want some fresh air," I begin to sulk. They can't hold me here forever.