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Some adult content.... just a warning.

Scarlett cant run away from the past. It haunts her dreams, thoughts, and lingers on her fathers breath. He says its her fault. She knows he's wrong. After she is pushed down the stairs by her abusive father, she meets a girl (Jules), one that is scarily similar to herself. They become friends outside of the hospital,and Jules introduces Scarlett to a Boy. Tall. Fit. Gorgeous. And intimidating. All at the same time. What she doesn't know is that he holds the secret to her past, and he will either make or break her future.

Submitted:Mar 18, 2013    Reads: 31    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   

Chapter 2: Familiar Colors

Chapter 2: Familiar Colors

Beep. Beep. Beep.

My eyes open to the sound of a heart monitor. The steady, rythmatic beat is pleasant to wake up to. As my eyes materialize the dark surroundings, I take a deep breath of air. Soap. Disinfectant. Death. The familiar scent of a hospital floods my nostrils. In the corner next to the too-small-to-enjoy TV I see a bundle of balloons. Probably from Sadie, my best friend. Definitely not from my dad. He wouldn't know the meaning of sentimental if it jumped up and bit him in the ass. Ironically enough, without the past he would have no meaning in life. What was his meaning, exactly? Why was he put on this earth, I mean surely god has better things to do than create sadistic drunk bastards that just make everybody's life harder. When they lose one thing to complain about, they go onto the next. It's the most vicious of vicious cycles.

I get up to press the nurse button, red and glowing. Fuck! Iv's move around and stab the inside of my arm. I sit back and sigh in defeat. I feel the urge to rip the goddamn things out of my arm, but I wouldn't want to waste the morphine. What did "clumsy girl" injure this time? I pull off my sheet with an IV free arm and access the damage. Bruises. So many new bruises forming, especially on my thin legs. I go to feel my chest. Yes, definitely some broken ribbage covered in that sliver of gauze. And of course my dad isn't here… where could the fucker have possibly gone? I don't mind it though. Silence is easier to deal with then drunken shpeels and half-hearted apologies.

I look to my left. It appears as if I have a roommate. She's slender. Scratch that. She's a bag of bones. Possibly the same age as me. Sleeping peacefully, all I can see is her back, barely concealed beneath a drab hospital dress. What I see is surprising, but comforting. Beneath her long golden hair, through a dark crevice revealed by her slipping blue sheets, are bruises. Definitely not from accidents. Most likely from someone, and judging from the sizes, shapes, and location (on the hips), they are the result of a too-tight grip. I shudder as I come to a shocking realization. She's been abused, but in a much different way than I have.

At that moment I knew I had to figure her out. After staring at the "Get well soon!" floating bundle for several minutes I came up with an idea. I Let my fingers creep down my side and reached far enough to grab the remote, nearly ripping the tubes out of my arm. Painful, but I could deal. Not like I wasn't used to pain. I pressed the red button and smiled in victory.

"Anything you need Hun?" The nurse had a thick Canadian accent.

"I need to go to the bathroom…" I croaked, almost too distorted to understand. I cringed at the harshness of my voice.

"We'll be there in a minute…" she replied. By the tone of her voice I had a feeling she didn't like my steel-wool throated voice either.

I waited. And waited. I swear I waited for twenty minutes. If I actually had to go to the bathroom I would've pissed the bed by now. When I get out of here SOMEONES going to receive a strongly worded letter. Finally, a plump stubby legged Latino woman walked through the wooden doors. She walked towards my bed and flashed me a grin, and flicked her eyes down to a clipboard. I could see the deep smile lines carved on the sides of her plump lips. It made me feel warm inside. I tried to smile back, but I imagine it looked like a forced gesture.

" You guys took a long time. How long have I been out?"

She turned her head up, and replied "I'm sorry we couldn't be here sooner. You have been out for quite a long time, 4 days to be exact. You should be more careful the next time you play around the stairs," The warmness was replaced by that cold lie that tugged at my gut.

" You only broke a few ribs, and took a deep laceration on your forehead. Otherwise you should be fine. It was quite the miracle actually." Miracle my ass. I stole a quick glance at my roomy.

"Could I take a piss now? I've been holding it in so long I think it'll burn a hole through my bladder." It worked! She was now thoroughly uncomfortable. But she gained back her composure, only slightly affected by my direct question.

" Let's get you off that bed, shall we?" I slung my legs over the edge of the bed and waited for her to bring my medley of machines closer. She helped me get up, and I started to shuffle towards the bathroom as she pulled my second body along. I'm so sore. Limping, wincing, back hunching. I must've been a pitiful sight. And then I saw it. Right next to the bathroom door was an injury report. I paused and looked down the list. Ms. Smiles was in her own little world. It gave me just enough time to glance at blondies description.

Name: Julia Sacrament

Age: 15 (I was right)

Injury report: Several severe bruising's; Internal vaginal lacerations; Fractured ulna; Puncture wounds; Severely swollen lymphoid's; Infection at site of puncture wounds; Bruised rib

…Holy shit. "Is something wrong?" I had been standing still for several minutes. "N-no it's nothing." She had been raped. I can't believe I was right. I walk swiftly into the bathroom now.

"Do you need me in here?" She asks, with a hint of irritation is her voice. I close the door and lock it. The bright fluorescent lighting scorches my eyeballs. Anger floods through me, and I'm not sure why. Why would someone do that to anyone? ANYONE. Especially a fragile teenage girl. I sit shaking on the toilet, and then I start to cry. Not because I'm sad. Because my eyes start to burn like holy hell. I wipe them and wipe them and wipe them. They feel as though they're on fire. I jump up from the seat and turn on the sink. I puke my guts out. Disgusting. Half-digested food stings my throat. And then I look up.

They're red. Red as fire. My blue irises have disappeared. Replaced by red full moons, implanting themselves on my huge child eyes.

And then I scream. "OPEN THE DOOR!!" I drop to the floor. My eyeballs are melting. I scratch at my face with savage untrimmed fingernails until I see the blood underneath my nail beds. I can't stop. The lights flicker. And then I go blind.


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