I open my eyes and feel the pain all around my body immediately afterward. My head hurts so much that I need to close my eyes. When the pain in my head minimizes, I open my eyes again. I do not recognize where I am. The room's lights are so bright that they hurt my eyes until I adapt to them. I blink multiple times to make my vision less blurry. I realize I am in a hospital room; it has been a long time since I was in one. The last time was when I attempted to kill myself last year. This place doesn't bring good memories. I shake those thoughts off and try to remember how I got here. I remember what happened in the Reverend Mother's office; that makes chills run through my whole body. I barely remember anything else afterward. My memory is fuzzy. I remember a lot of pain, my attempt to escape, and hearing Charles' voice. I suppose he saw my state and decided to take me to the hospital. While my mind tries to fill the gaps in my memories, the door opens, and I see Charles entering the room with a cup of coffee. He looks tired and doesn't realize that I am awake. He sits on the chair next to the bed I am on, takes a sip of coffee, and then looks up at me. He takes a moment to realize my eyes are no longer closed. His eyes open up in surprise.
"You are awake," he recalls the obvious. "How are you feeling?"
"Like absolute shit," I say and laugh a little. Even laughing hurts. He glares at me.
"No bad words," he says, and I smile. I even missed him glaring at me when I curse.
"Did you bring me here?" he nods. "How did you do it? How did you communicate with the people in the hospital?"
I am curious, most people in Mexico do not speak English, and Charles does not speak Spanish. So, I want to know how he was able to talk to the doctors and nurses in the hospital.
"It was quite difficult, I gotta admit, but I managed it," he pauses, and I look at him just waiting for him to continue. "Before arriving at the hospital I knew I was going to have trouble finding someone who knew English, so I called one of the only people I know that speak Spanish: my teammate Carlos Sainz. I told him that I had an emergency, was in Mexico, and needed someone to translate for me. He agreed to do it. I told him to tell the nurse in Emergency your name, age, and what was my relationship to you was, and explain the situation. Afterward, they took you to the emergency room and brought someone who knew English, so he could translate for me.
"Now, Carlos is just asking me a lot of questions about you and the situation which I will answer later when all of this is over. And there is an investigation around the orphanage and the abuse the kids suffered inside that place for the past years. This makes me remember that when any of the staff of the hospital finds out you are awake, a psychologist and a police officer will come in to interview you about the orphanage. I know you are scared, but I want you to tell the truth, and I promise no one will hurt you from now on. But for that to happen I need you to tell them all you have suffered inside that place. I know it will be very difficult for you, but I know you are strong enough and will be able to do it. Okay?"
"Okay." I take a deep breath and try to process what Charles just told me. "So, what injuries do I have? Because I know I'm not okay. Especially since my head hasn't stopped hurting since I woke up, and everything feels foggy, plus every single part of my body hurts."
I change of topic because I feel uncomfortable talking about the new investigation.
"Well, you have a bruised rib, have cuts everywhere from glass penetrating your skin, and some irritation in your throat. All this won't give you much problem and you will be fine after a few weeks."
It sounds like he has more to say, but doesn't want to, so I encourage him to say it. "But...."
He sighs, "you got quite a severe concussion. Right now you will probably have a lot of headaches, dizziness, mood swings, sensorily issues with light and noise, poor concentration, insomnia, and overall constant feeling down or off, but this will only last for a few months and then they will all go away. But concussion also causes. long-lasting effects. Some of them are loss of most depth perception, spatial disorientation, and difficulties with balance. But all can be treated, and make you return to practically normal by the end of next year."
"Oh," I sigh. That explains why I just don't feel normal, but my major concern is if I am going to continue racing after this head injury because I know spatial disorientation in car racing is not good. "Is it confirmed that I have the three of them?"
I am scared of the answer. "It is not for sure you have the three of them, but the doctors suspect you do. The only one they have confirmed you have is lost of most depth perception."
I swallow hard trying to relax. "Does this mean that I won't be able to race at all?"
"No, not at all. There are a ton of drivers that have suffered concussions and have continued racing. According to the doctors, balance is easy to recover, and spatial disorientation will take some months, but as long as it is not too bad you will be able to race."
That makes me feel better, but he omitted something which means it is not something I want to hear.
"What about depth perception?" I ask scared.
"Well, the doctors say you won't be able to recover it all since the severeness of it. You will be able to recover some of it, but not all. But don't worry that one is not too important for racing, so as long as you recover some of it, you will be able to race."
I know he is not completely sure of that. His tone indicates it. He is not sure of it, he is more hoping it is true.
"Don't worry, I promise it will be okay."
I know he is not sure of that, but hearing him say it makes me feel better.
A nurse opens the door and enters to check on me.
"Oh you are awake," she doesn't sound too surprised. "How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"
"My head hurts a lot, and I feel some pain here," I say pointing toward my right rib.
"Okay, I'll bring some medicine, and increment the dose of morphine."
She gets out of the room.
"Do you have my phone?" I ask wondering how many messages I will have from my friends asking me why I didn't go to school. Also, I want to know what day it is because I don't even know that.
"Yeah, here."
He pulls it out of his pocket and gives it to me. My phone is full of messages from my friends as I predicted. Most are from Carlos and Fer, and some are from Tiago, Ivy, and Natalia. I feel disappointed when I see that there are none from Mau. It hurts. Normally he would have been one of the first to ask why I wasn't at school, but now he didn't even care.
I'm about to answer the messages from my friends when someone knocks on the door. Charles stands up and opens the door. There are two men standing there waiting to be let in. Both of them are dressed formal and look like serious people. I know who they are. The detective and the psychiatrist.
"Come in," says Charles, and I can tell that he's already talked to them. I wait for them to talk first.
The one that looks more like the detective whispers something in English to Charles that I can't hear. He nods and gets close to my bed.
"Hey, they want to talk to you in private without me here," he says trying not to alarm me. I don't like that, I don't know these people, and in most situations, I wouldn't mind them, but right now I am weak so if they try to hurt me or anything I have no way to escape or defend myself. Plus, Charles makes me feel safe. I don't want him to leave. I shake my head, and pleading him to stay. I really don't want to be alone with these two men. "It will be fine, I will be outside if you need anything, okay?"
I swallow hard and nod. He kisses me softly on the head and leaves. The detective and the psychiatrist grab a chair and sit close to my bed.
"Hey, Axel. I am Dr. Rodriguez and this is Detective Rangel. We are here to ask you some questions, okay?"
He talks to me like I will break if he raises his voice too much. I don't like that. I nod.
"So, we wanted to know if you remember what happened yesterday. We know some parts might be fuzzy because of your concussion, but we just need you to try your best," Dr. Rodriguez continues talking. I stay quiet not sure if I should talk.
"I promise that nothing will happen if you tell us. We will believe you, and what happened to you yesterday won't happen to you ever again, but I need you to tell us what you remember," This time is the detective who talks. I like him more, he doesn't treat me like a little kid.
I sigh loudly, "I don't remember everything, but I can tell you what I do remember," I say, and both men nod. "I was getting ready to go to school when I heard yelling. I recognized immediately the voice; it was the Reverend Mother. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew she was mad. So, I tried avoiding her because no one wants to face the Reverend Mother when she is mad."
"Why? What happens when she is mad?" The detective interrupts me. I close my eyes trying to bring myself to explain.
"Bad things happen to us when she is mad," I say hoping he doesn't ask for more details.
"What bad things?" He continues digging. I lick my lips not wanting to answer. "Does she do something to you?"
Dr. Rodríguez clears his throat as if telling the detective to stop it. I am thankful for that.
"Sorry, continue," says the detective.
"Though I tried to hide from her, she saw and immediately decided that she needed to talk to me. That's when I realized she was drunk. Her breath smelled like alcohol."
"Is it normal that she and the nuns get drunk?" Questions the detective.
"She is the only one that ever gets drunk. She doesn't normally get drunk. Is more like once every three months, but when she does she is really scary and dangerous." I look away remembering all the times that she had been drunk recently. I hear the doctor writing some stuff in his notebook.
"She said she wanted to talk to me in her office about something I said a few weeks before. I was scared, but I followed her anyway. She locked the door. And started yelling at me. Then she lost control, and..."
I zone out remembering what happened. My eyes start to water, and my headache increments in intensity to the point where I have to close my eyes. It hurts so bad I whine a little, I hear the men stand up. One of them opens the door and calls a nurse. I grab my head with my hands and try breathing in and out, but it continues hurting so badly. Tears of pain run down my cheeks. It hurts really badly.
The nurse comes in and increments my dose of morphine. The pain decreases immediately, and I lay down on the bed, and try to sleep a little. After a few minutes, I hear some voices, so I try to eavesdrop.
"I told you that I needed to increment the dose of morphine before you enter and talk to her, but of course, you didn't let me," I hear the voice of the nurse.
"Her memory is foggy enough, we don't need any drug to mess it up more," says the detective.
"She is in a lot of pain, she needs some drugs at least," the nurse sounds mad. "Plus, your presence is overwhelming for her. She has gone through enough in the past days, she doesn't need to be interrogated. She got a concussion. If you alter or bring her too much anxiety, her brain won't respond okay. So, the investigation is over at least for today. Now, get out of here." The nurse ends the conversation, and I am so thankful for it.
"We need her statement as soon as possible. We talked to the other kids, but the one that was treated the worst was her, so we need to know what they did to her over all these years, so we can bring justice and see how we can help her deal with and get over all these traumatic experiences," the detective is begging at this point.
The nurse sighs, "okay, just give her a few hours. I'll call you when she wakes up, but only if she is feeling better."
Everyone leaves, and Charles enters and sits next to me. I try to sleep, but too much is going on inside my brain, so I give up. I open my eyes and look at Charles. He looks exhausted, his eye bags are big, his eyes are red, and he doesn't have that happy and joking attitude he normally carries everywhere. I feel bad that I am doing this to him.
"I'm sorry," I say, and he looks confused. "I'm sorry for making you go through this, you look truly exhausted."
"Hey, you are in no state to judge appearance, you should see yourself in the mirror," he says jokingly, and I smile softly.
"I know, but I am really sorry that you have to deal with a teenager who is always having problems and has a shitty attitude 90% of the time."
"Hey, no bad words," he says seriously. "Either way, I love spending time with you even if it is in the hospital."
We continue talking for a while about unimportant stuff, and he mentions that one of his brothers might come to spend Christmas with us if that is okay with me, and I say it is.
"By the way, I brought you the cap signed by Carlos, but it is in the apartment," he says, and I now remember that I ask him to bring it, so I could give it to Carlos' little brother.
"Oh, thanks. If you could sign it too would be great."
"Is it for you or what?"
"Oh no, it is for a friend who is a big fan of you and Sainz, so yeah," I say.
He is about to answer when someone knocks on the door and opens it afterward. It is again Dr. Rodriguez and Detective Rangel. I roll my eyes. Charles immediately leaves the room and leaves me alone with these two men which makes me nervous.
"So, we wanted to continue asking questions, but if you are not ready to tell us something you can simply skip it or tell us later. And if at any moment you feel uncomfortable with anything you can tell us, and we will stop immediately, okay?" says Dr. Rodriguez trying to make me feel safe.
I nod.
"Can you continue to tell us what happened in the Reverend Mother's office?" asks more gently this time Detective Rangel.
I swallow hard. "She started hitting me, then threw me to the wall, grabbed me by the neck harshly, and..." I take a deep breath and continue, "threw against the window. The impact broke the window, and I fell against the ground. I don't remember a lot after that. I remember being scared, in a lot of pain, asking for help, and hearing Charles' voice."
"Okay, had this happened before?" the detective asks.
"Yes, but only ones before as severe as this one time. She is normally not so violent."
"What happened last time she was as violent as yesterday?"
I look away, "I was around ten years old. She got mad 'cause I told a friend what they did to me in the orphanage, and her parents went and talked to her. She got mad and drunk. She cut my back with a broken piece of glass. I needed 12 stitches and a blood transfusion," I remember the awful event and close my eyes trying to get those memories away from my mind.
"We heard what happened last June, want to tell us about it?" asks the detective without any touch.
"I don't want to talk about it," is not a topic I am comfortable talking about.
"Well, could you at least tell us if you did what you did because of how they treated you in the orphanage, please," says Dr. Rodriguez more sensitively.
"Yes, it was the main reason why I did it."
I feel really uncomfortable with where this conversation is going.
"How do you feel if we ask more questions?" Dr. Rodrguez says carefully.
"It's fine," I say. I just want to get it over with, so the faster I answer all their questions, the faster they will go away.
"How commonly would you suffer physical abuse?"
"Around once a week."
"Did every single one of the sisters hurt you physically?"
"No, most of them did except for one," I say remembering my only friend in that place.
"Who is that person?"
"Sister Sofia. She would always search for the best for us and try to get us out of any trouble."
I don't want Sister Sofia in any trouble, without her I would probably be in a worst condition right now.
They both nod.
"Were you commonly mentally abused?" asks the psychiatrist.
"Yeah, at least once a day." It is easier to harm someone mentally than it is physically. Also is more difficult to see mental abuse than physical abuse.
"How do you know Charles Leclerc?" asks the detective.
"He was friend's with my brother."
"Was?" he questions again.
"My brother is dead, he died a couple of years ago, " I say without any emotion showing.
"Oh," say both men at the same time.
"We met at the Mexican Grand Prix and started hanging out. He decide he wanted to adopt me, and I accepted," I summarize the events of the last two months in a sentence.
"Has he ever hurt you?" the detective just continues digging.
I frown in confusion. Charles hurting someone? Doesn't even makes sense, let's say less about hurting me.
"No, why?"
"Nothing, just wanted to make sure," says the psychiatrist. "Are you happy in general?"
Why does he even care about that?
"Depends, I am happy sometimes but not all the time," I answer with the truth.
"Are you happy in the orphanage?"
"No, I have never been happy in that place."
"And what about with Charles?" intervenes Detective Rangel.
"I am quite happy most of the time with him, why?"
"Just curiosity," responds Dr. Rodriguez. We all stay in silence, so I assume the little interview is done.
"Are we done? because I would really like to take a nap right now. I am quite tired of being questioned about my whole life," I smile sarcastically, and both men stare back at me. The psychiatrist clears his throat.
"Yes, we are done. We might come back to ask more questions in the future but for now, we are fine."
I sign a goodbye. They stand up and leave the room. I sigh and I am happy they are finally gone. Charles enters the room immediately after and sits next to me.
"Do you know when I am getting out of here?" I ask.
"No, they need to do some analysis to see how much damage the concussion did to your brain. I am guessing probably like in a week."
I sigh in frustration. I don't want to be stuck here anymore.
"It's okay, as soon as you can leave. We are going somewhere to spend Christmas and New Year inside the country okay?"
"Where are we going?" I ask curiously.
"It's a surprise," he says suspiciously. "But once you get out of here it will be a new beginning for us, especially for you."
I smile and grab my phone. I text my friends to explain what happened and why I wasn't at school for the past few days. Everyone of course was worried, but I assured them that it will be fine. They promise they will come to visit me. I turn my phone off. I close my eyes and go to sleep.
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Hey people, I hope you are happy because I uploaded two episodes in the lapse of two days. I have just been having a lot of inspiration. This probably won't happen very often, but enjoy it while it lasts. Comment and vote!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Love to everyone who likes my story💗💗💗
-author who currently has tons of homework but rather write her little fan fiction 😛