We Watched the City Burn

Chapter 22

I never had any issues with hospitals, needles didn't scare me, but the smell of death and floor cleaner was more than i could handle. 

When I came to in the hospital, the doctor was looking at my chart, serious worry lines creasnig his chocolate forhead. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that I would get out of here without someone asking questions about my injuries. Not a lot of things would cause this kind of damage, rape not included. I knew they would find anal tearing, and question me. What I wonder was did they already question my father?

I got the answer to my question when a social worker came pokpokpoking in. She was in her forties, a serious face, black horn-rimmed glasses, and a black power suit. She had a binder, my file I assumed, and a pen tucked behind one ear.

She pulled up the only visiting chair next to me on the right side and opened the file. I had been awake for a few hours by this point, and I had not seen even a glimpse of Him. Honestly, I don't know if that made me happy, or scared. Perhaps both?

I looked expectantly at the social worker, waiting for the round of questions to begin.

She looked up at me from her glasses, her eyes were gray, pretty. She gave me a small, sad smile then cleared her throat, ready to start.

"Hello, Matthew, I'm Olimpia. I'm here to ask you a few questions, I'm sure you're in a bit of pain, but if you could just help me out, I'd really appreciate it," Her voice was smooth, but slightly cold, like she had said this hundreds of times.

 Like the lives of abused teens and tortured youth are boring to her. Jesus.

I nodded anyway, and sat up as straight as I could. My ribs didn't hurt but that was probably due to the meds they were pumping into me via IV. I didn't want to see what my face looked like, my arms were bad enough. I was almost covered in purple and blue bruises, the shapes of fingers wrapping around the exposed areas of my arms.

Doctors saw this, they saw everything, they know. There's no point in trying to lie to them, they know.

"Matthew, has your father eevr hurt you in any way? Threatened to hurt you?" She's got her pen ready for battle, staring holes in me with her gray eyes.

I feel my throat collapse, and I send a silent sorry to Mom, and I nod before I open my mouth and say as loud as I can, "All the time. Every day."

Olimpia nods and makes a note in the file before firing more questions at me, and by the time she's done, my head is spinning and I feel like I'm gonna lose it. I feel so fucking alone, sitting here in this room telling everything to a woman who doesn't give a shit about me, or my family.

I'm just a file, another number to her. The fact that He is all I have left really means nothing to her, no matter what she says. The only person I have left that gives a damn is Aurora. I need to see her, I need to see her so I know that I'm not gonna fall to pieces, and  if I do, I want her to catch me.

When Olimpia finishes up, she asks me if there's anyone I want to see, and she hands me a slip of paper and a pen, she's caught on that talking is hard for me. Smart.

I scribble Aurora's number and rest against the pillows, my eyes clamped shut, willing myself to keep it together until she leaves the room. When I hear the sliding glass door woosh closed, tears start o pour down my face. Keeping my breathing steady requires most of my focus, and my ribs are starting to groan awake from the medicated coma. But I don't call in the nurse. I deserve this.

She left because of me, which is what made him so angry. That's why he did this. And now I was going to be the one to get him locked up. My family was gone. My mother was gone, and now He was gone. I had no other living relatives to fall back on for a place to stay, which most likely meant some kind of group home or something.

Foster Care. Fantastic.

I just lay there and let the pain creep up on me, swallow me and coat me in a cocoon. How was anything ever going to get better? How was anything ever gonna get brighter? What was I supposed to do now? What were they gonna do with my Mom's house? All of our things?

My room? It sounds stupid that that is what I'm worried about, but all I can think about is the glow in the dark stars Mom and I put up, and the paint on the walls. The room where she played with me, and read stories until I fell asleep. It was the last place I saw her.

It's all I can think about now. The last shred of normalcy I had is now gone. my life has been thrown up in the air and everything is falling to pieces. I'm running around trying to catch everything, but I know I'm going to lose more than I keep.

I just have to figure out what things I'm going to let come crashing down, and what parts I want to save. It seems impossible to choose, but the first choice is clear: No matter what happens in my life now, Aurora is the first thing I'm going to catch.

I'm going to hold on tight, because she's all I have left.