RED

eleven

"See? All done. Feel a little better?"

Her face crinkles and she lets out another sob, still not showing any signs of calming down. So I do what I never thought I'd ever do.

I push Red over towards the other side of the bed to make room for myself so I can scooch in next to her. The tears continue streaming down her cheeks but I keep shushing her, telling her everything is alright. I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest. At the same time I gently run my hand over her head comfortingly, over and over.

This seems to do the trick because her sobs become lesser and quieter. I close my eyes and continue stroking her head as I listen to the sound of her heartbeat and breathing return to normal.

When I reopen my eyes, I see that hers are now shut, and her breathing becomes heavier and heavier until I can see her falling asleep. I let out a sigh and lean my head back against the pillow next to hers. I stare at her stilled face, she looked so innocent yet so sad. I didn't want her to be sad anymore. But before I knew it, I sunk into a slumber myself.

I awaken in a startle. I find that Red is not in my arms anymore and I realized I just fell asleep on the job. My God, if anyone were to have seen this, I would be fired faster than I could blink my eyes.

I look around in alarm, searching for the petite girl and I don't like what I see next. She's sitting in a ball in the corner of the room, her body trembling fiercely. Her back is facing me so I can't tell what she is up to.

"Red...?" I call.

She doesn't react to my voice so I get up slowly and quietly and walk over to her. I try to use slow, non-threatening movements.

"Are you okay?"

Then as quick as lightning, she turns to me and I let out a frightened gasp at what I see.

"Make it stop," she croaks.

There are scratch marks carved into the wall from her fingernails, and her fingertips are leaking blood. What is even more concerning are the scratch marks she dug into her own cheeks. I bolt over to her and grab her into my arms.

"What did you do?!"

The cry that comes from her sounds inhuman when I pick her up. I rush over to the bed and when I turn my back to grab alcohol and gauze wipes, she jumps off the bed erratically.

"Red, stop it!"

I wrap my arms around hers and force her back over to the bed. I don't want to, but this time I have to secure the cuffs onto her arms and ankles so that she doesn't run off and hurt herself any further.

After gathering the supplies I needed, I started wiping her face with the gauze.

"Please," she squeaks out, "please."

"Please what, Red? What do you need? Tell me!"

The scratches on her face are minor and shouldn't take too long to heal. They don't even need bandages but the sight of the scratch marks on her face are enough to frighten anybody. However, the scratches carved into the wall in the corner will need new plaster and paint for sure.

My heart cracks in half at the pitiful sight of my patient. She made it so hard for me to know what was wrong. I hated witnessing her squirming around but there was nothing else I could do.

When I finished cleaning her face, I demanded, "tell me what's wrong, please. Talk to me, Red."

She chokes out the word, "I," but doesn't finish.

"You what? Baby, what's wrong?"

Her voice is scratchy and I assume it's from all the crying and screaming. I would have been overjoyed for the amount of words she's giving me if it weren't for this certain situation.

"Can't," she croaks out.

I swallow desperately, "can't what? I need you to tell me, baby girl so I can help you."

She shakes her head, her eyes squeezed shut but tears still manage to leak out.

"He hurt," she hiccups, "me."

Ironically, at that exact moment, maybe from the loud noises coming from this room, Dr. Wells storms through the door. At the sight of him, Red goes insane.

She's screaming and thrashing and I literally have to hold her down. I reach for a syringe out of my pocket and stick it into her arm, she screams again, making my stomach grind with guilt. I had to so she wouldn't give herself a fucking heart attack. She's instantly relaxed from the sedative as her body flops down onto the mattress.

I whip myself around and look at Dr. Wells. I didn't even think twice before I ran straight towards him, "you bastard!"

He's clearly caught off guard because I manage to tackle him and due to the open door, other nurses head and witness what is going on. I feel myself being ripped away from Dr. Wells and he is taken into someone's arms as well.

"You sick fuck!"

My rage overcomes all of my senses and I black out. I cannot control anything I do as I am held back from ripping the putrid man to shreds.

The next thing I hear is, "911, we have an emergency."