Chapter 48

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Charlotte's POV

I woke up in an unfamiliar room with a pounding headache. Despite having just woken up, my body felt heavy with exhaustion and I wanted nothing more then to roll over and sleep for a week or two.

Instead, I sat up and took in my surroundings. I was sitting on a bed similar to the one in my room, scratchy and uncomfortable, and all but one was was painted a dark blue. The one that wasn't painted was made of glass, enabling people to watch me as if I was some sort of zoo animal on display. The light above me made a steady and annoying hum and flickered, somehow making the space feel even smaller.

I got to my feet, a little wobbly at first, and padded to the glass. I pressed my palms flat against the glass and looked around for someone to explain to me what was going on. Seeing no one, I started to pound on the glass and call out. Frustration, anger, and confusion drove my actions which was not a good thing but I couldn't be bothered to get a handle on myself.

"Stop that," A nurse appeared in front of me. She was older and had a mean look about her.

"I want to talk to Dr. Owen," I demanded. I never thought I'd be willing to talk to that woman but she would surly have some answers for me.

"She's busy," The nurse sneered, looking at me like I was a pebble in her shoe.

"Please, it's important!"

"Sit down and stop making a fuss or I'll sedate you," She warned, pointing a chubby finger to the bed I'd woken up on. Then briskly she walked away, her steps echoing through the hollow room.

"Come back here you bitch!" I screamed, pounding my fists again. I was beyond furious at how rude and uncooperative the woman had been.

I continued to bang on the glass until I saw how red and swollen my fists were becoming. I let out a long and exhausted breath, feeling the anger dissolving. I was too tired to be angry. I was too tired to feel anything at this point.

I went back to the bed and laid down, making sure my back was to any onlookers, and was asleep in a matter of seconds.

**

I woke to the sound of my door opening and feet scuffling on the concrete floor.

I sat up, groggy and a little confused, and looked up to see Dr. Owen peering down at me. Behind her, a stone faced orderly was waiting by the door, ready to pounce if I misbehaved.

"How are you feeling, Charlotte?" Dr. Owen asked, bending down a little to flash a light in my eyes.

"I don't know," The thing about this place was when they asked how you were, they expected a real answer.

"Why not?" She question and I shrugged. I felt a lot of things right now and it all just jumbled up into one confusing mess.

"My face hurts," I murmured, deciding to go the physical feeling rout. Dr. Owen tilted my chin up and examined the cuts then nodded and pulled a package out of her pocket. She tore it open then squeezed some gel onto her finger then put it on the cuts. I felt a cooling sensation and the pain subsided.

"Thanks," I said, trying to get on her better side so she would answer some of my questions.

"You're welcome," She smiled and I noticed she had a kind, motherly smile.

Dr. Owen sat on a stool that had been dragged in, perched right on the very edge of it with her clipboard resting on her lap, ready to take notes on me.

"I hear you've been asking for me?"

"Yeah," I answered dryly, my body telling me to stop talking. Despite my mental need to speak to someone, my body was retracting and making it difficult to talk. My throat was closing, I felt like I had cotton balls in my mouth, and my chest was tight. I pulled myself back against the wall and wrapped my arms around me knees, trying to keep it together.

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