Not an Object, Not a Weapon

Chapter 1: Broken

"Not directly," he shakes his head with a little smile but he doesn't answer my question, well not what I think I asked.

"Scars."

"I see that."

"No, scarred," I clarify, the first thing I am able to clarify in what seems like my whole life, or of all that I remember. I have to have memory of the first several years of my life.

"You'll get over it."

I feel goosebumps spread from my arms to my legs, "I won't." Shaking my head from side to side I take a deep breath in and out, "hurt, hurting."

"I will leave you to get better. I will talk to you later, maybe when you start saying coherent sentences. Nurse!" he yells before leaving the room.

"Hello my darling," she says in a motherly voice. What happened to my mom? Did I have one? I mean, clearly I had one, but do I still? "How are you feeling?"

"Broken."

"Well the good news is that everything can be healed. You shoulder was dislocated so that was popped into place and your broken bones will take time, but they will heal."

"No, not broken," I say, "but broken."

"I am not sure I follow," she says while stroking my hair. She has to be a mother, this seems like second nature to her.

Shaking my head, "words, not fitting." Closing my eyes and squeezing them shut, for the life of me, the right words are not coming out, "no, why?" Looking down, I try to figure out what I am trying to say. My eyes follow the pattern of the hospital gown I am in... hospital gown? Am I in a hospital? Nevermind, that is not important, "wrong, not right."

"Okay darling, can you expand a bit?"

"No!" I yell. Doesn't she think that I would be speaking in full sentences if I could? "Not," my eyes blink a couple times, "working." My mind is empty and jumbled up at the same time.

"Traumatized?" she asks with tears in her eyes. Does she care that words are not forming? Does she care that I am weakened beyond what was possible?

"Broken," I say again, a little more sure of myself. Sliding my heels to my butt ignoring her protests, I hug my legs. This seems to be my favorite position, maybe because it feels like I am the strongest, most together than I am spread out, "Shattered."

"I think I am starting to understand. Why don't you just rest for a little while? Sleep can help any person in the process of healing."

"Not healing," I immediately answer back, "beaten," I say.

"Beaten?"

"No! Not beaten." Tears well up in my eyes, the nurse so desperately wants to understand but how can I explain to someone what is happening when I am unsure of it myself. "Defeated. Defeated? DEfeated? DeFEATED? Defeated." I repeat. "Three."

"Three?"

"Three. Defeated. Defeated three? No. Three Defeated? YES!" I yell. My face scrunches up trying to figure out how three came back into my vocabulary and why the word defeated keeps returning to my brain. "Three defeated."

"Call in Avarija (Avarija - wrecker in Lithuanian)! She is fighting her memory!" The Nurse panics but that all goes right over my head because I am trying to figure out what these two simple words mean.

"Three... three defeated... defeated?... defeated three... no... three." I say my words slowly trying to jog my memory.

"She's too strong."