Original Author: Chel
5am in the morning the cops rolled in to survey the damage.
"Good God, look at the mess! Cleanups gonna have their hands full with this one," they said surveying the blood soaked bed. "What hapenned Smith?" asked the chief, walking through the door. "Domestic despute. We haven't been able to find the weapon or the bastard responsible but we did find the girl." Looking at the bed, the chief blanched. "How bad is she?" he asked. "We don't know, we just gave her over to the medics and they ran her to critical condition." "What kind of monster cuts up a kid like that?" the chief muttered rubbing his face. "Welcome to Harlem," the policemen said, closing his notebook. "Your new on the job, so believe me this is just the beginning," he said clapping the chief on the shoulder. "Drop by my office when you get back for a glass of scotch. Believe me, you need it on this job."
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It hurt. Everything hurt. She didn't feel a body, her limbs weren't heavy, she was almost floating just between her body and something bigger than her, and then she felt the slam, pulling her back, her chest pounding.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Holy shit! Dr. Lucas! Dr. Lucas we got her! We got her back!" The doctors crowded around the girl in awe. This girl must've been on good terms with someone up there because she was back, her heart was beating, and she was breathing. "Now we can continue," the surgeon replied, wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve. "Get me the rest of those other two metal bolts, we need to get her spine back in place," he said.
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She came to around three months later to the smell of oranges. Actually, it was the sickening smell of orange cleaner, something that hit her nose and made her twitch in disgust. She hated artificial smells. She sneezed, slowly feeling things come into focus. White...... she looked over at the window, the green curtains the only color fluttering in the wind against the white canvas. Her black eyes closed and opened repeatedly, the wheels slowly turning in her brain, what the....?
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"
She shot up rigidly then gasped, the pain shooting up from her hip bone. She cried, her body cringing. Why did everything hurt? She somehow stumbled out of the hospital bed, dragging the ivey bag, holding herself up for support as she approached the bathroom mirror. Shaking she stared, slowly undoing the hospital ties on her gown and stepping out of her clothes. Slowly she turned around, scared and looked at her back in the mirror.
She was sewn up like a bloody ragdoll, blood soaked bandages and bruised skin. She screamed, the piercing sound terrifying as doctors and nurses ran to her side, talking at her everyone becoming a blur, everyone fading into the background as she continued to stare at the stitches, her eyes glazed over with a kind of madness.
"Miss! Miss can you hear us! Say something! Rikki go get a sedative! Miss you have to calm down! Tell us your name! Just tell us something!"
Her mind froze, latching onto the nurse as she turned to her with a kind of far off look, staring into the nurses' eyes with a deadness, hollow inside. Tell her something? Tell her something indeed. She leaned forward, to whisper in the nurses ear with childish innocence and naivetee,
"I've been a very bad girl," she said hauntingly. "Don't ask me to tell on daddy, cause mommy won't like it and she'll beat me. And then dad won't like it and he'll beat me," she laughed. "And they'll beat me and beat me until I'm as fucked up as they are....." she giggled, her demeaner quickly changed, as she grabbed the woman by the chin, forcing her to look into her eyes. "You know Nothing," she said dangerously. "You know nothing about it all...."
The nurse came running back with a sedative, quickly sticking the needle in her arm and injecting it into the thirteen year old's blood stream. Two more minutes and the girl slumped forward unconscious. The doctor's laid her back in bed shaking their heads. They could only fix the body. Fixing the mind would be up to the medication and the will of the victim.
