Secrets: The Blood and the Chains (Editing in Progress)

Chapter 7

"Can I please go home now. I-I'm fine. Watch," I say before I pull the blanket off and stand up to show I'm not weak.

"Yes yes, I see you can stand. But I want observations. To make sure nothing happens. And you need a psych exam, I can't have you trying to kill yourself again," he says, sounding like he's dealt with suicidal patients before. I sit on the bed in my previous position again as I groan in frustration.

"I just want to put a bullet in my brain," I grumble quietly.

"Can't have that, son," he says then walks out of the room, leaving me in a panic.

"Siva, calm down. He'll just put you on an anti-depressant and you'll feel better. It'll be fine, you need this," Deb assures, sounding a bit calmer. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head on my knees as I run my fingers through my hair then clench my fists in my hair. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of stress, drama, anger, pain. I'm sick of it all and I'm ready to resign.

I feel someone pat my back. I look up to see Andrew. I put my head back down and ignore him. "Visiting hours are over. I promise we'll be back in the morning though," he says before I hear the door open and close, letting me know that my parents are now gone. What am I doing calling them my parents? Their not my parents, just replacements. Fakes, trying to be the real. That's impossible though. At one point, my real mum was a good nurturing mother who was protective and kind but after my dad died, she just went completely crazy.

I feel myself start to tremble as I think about the times of my life before my life went to shit.

"Siva, time to get up," I hear a soft, womanly voice say. I open my eyes to see a girl, tall, has blonde hair and sun kissed skin. She looks familiar. Where have I seen her?

I yawn and stretch but put my right arm down when a dull ache comes to it. I look over and this is the first time I realize I have a red cast on my arm. I didn't break my arm.

"They had to break it in surgery to repair a major vein," the nurse clarifies. She must have seen my puzzled look I had while staring at my arm. I nod then the door opens. A man walks in. He has a suit on and he's fairly young--twenty-something maybe. He has a brief case in his hand and he walks in with a serious expression on his face.

"Hello Siva, I'm Dr. Dean, I'm here to asses you," he says and sticks out his hand. I show him my right arm and he quickly shifts his case to his other hand and we shake left hands. "So, you tried to kill yourself?" he asks me as if he wasn't sure that some information he got from somewhere else was wrong. I let my head fall back on my pillow, giving him a silent answer.

"I take that as a yes," he says as he clicks a pen and scribbles something down on a notepad he took out of his brief case. I haven't even said anything and he's already taking down notes? Whatever.

"So, what made you want to... hurt yourself?" he asks. I sit up and take a deep breath. Should I tell him? Or keep to myself? I think I'm going with staying quiet. I don't want to talk about it, it just makes me sad and I end up crying if I talk about it. I'd much rather not seem lame. I just look at him and stay quiet, waiting for his reaction.

"Siva, please tell me. You'll never be able to get over it if you don't talk about it," he says. I just roll my eyes and look the opposite direction. "How about, I tell you why I became a child therapist," he offers. I know what he's doing, trying to make my curiosity get the best of me. The worst part is it works.

"You first," I mutter as I look at him. He raises a brow then shrugs.

"While I was growing up, my father abused me and made me feel like crap all the time. I thought I was such a bad kid even though I had straight A's and perfect attendance and all that stuff. He made me feel worthless and I actually tried to kill myself at one point by swallowing a bunch of pills. I was obviously saved but it was just because my friend came over unexpectedly. My dad knew what I did and he didn't care when I was on the ground in the bathroom not even breathing," he says. I look at my hands as I nervously ring my fingers in my lap.