Chapter Sixteen ~ Ava Baby
School's out in less than a week. I'm very, very happy.
I'd been in the hospital for over an hour, doing different types of tests from blood work to peeing in a cup.
Sighing, I sat back down onto the very uncomfortable bed with an awkwardly large piece of paper placed on a small white desk beside my bed.
My doctor whom I didn't know the name of was out of them room while the curious me I was, was stuck in a room with many things to inspect.
I turned my head and immediately spotted my brown file, which had my name written on the top and various papers filed in it. I grabbed it, my eyes searching every little detail.
There was from when Cooper had taken me to the doctors not too long ago and all the way back to eight years ago - the worst day of my life.
Just reading the files made the tears ready to spill. Critical condition, bruised and beaten, likely to need professional mental help if she makes it. This was what one of my doctor's reports said in messy cursive writing.
I remembered when my grandma dropped everything for me, getting me the help I need through all my breakdowns. Even though she was suffering too, she was always there.
"I see you've made yourself at home," a nurse observed aloud in the doorway, her voice full of distaste. "That's not yours to read."
"It's more mine than yours." I pulled the folder away from her grasp when she tried to snatch it. "Besides, whose name is written all over it?"
I hated it when people pushed themselves into the scenario that was my parent's death.
An annoyed grunt was her only response, when she flipped her hair and turned on her heels, leaving me in my boredom once again.
Finished with it, I put the folder back. There was nothing left to read that I didn't already know, so instead I settled on twiddling my fingers.
Soon I was ready to start making spit balls but the doctor finally returned, stopping me. For now.
"Have you been feeling well lately?"
She sat down beside the bed, sneaking a glance at the folder, probably already knowing I went through it because of her snitch of a sidekick.
"Yep," I nodded firmly.
"Any depression, anxiety, exedra?" During the questioning, she never looked up from her notepad while writing.
"No problems whatsoever?"
"Nothing that comes to mind."
"Sounds like everything is going smoothly. Now we only need to check your heart rate and be done."
She put the stethoscope on her ears and stepped towards me, placing the end of the stethoscope above my heart.
"Sounds a little off, but that's nothing considering your condition."
"I know," I grimaced, because she said it every time I came.
"Just go easy on it."
Finally after the long agonizing few hours in the hospital, I was talking to my grandmother while answering the same questions she asked after every appointment.
YOU ARE READING
The Devil Is My GuardianTeen Fiction
One thing I'll always remember is my parents saying "Everyone has a story" "Everyone has a story with a past, tragic or not. Everyone has a story that is meant to go unjudged, even if it was never told" But sometimes we forget that. Like when I thou...