Page 10 of Needing to Fall
“What are you doing?” I asked her through a very scratchy throat.
With her voice lowered, sounding resigned and sad, she said, “Helping you.”
“By doing …?” I asked just as she threw the car into park and two very large men dressed all in white came up to my door. “You didn’t!” I gasped, feeling my heart break all over again.
She turned fully toward me. “You need this. I don’t know how to help you, and you’re scaring the shit out of me, Reign. Then today…” She shook her head, closing her eyes, pain etched on her face. “I know I take the risk of you hating me because of this, and as much as that kills me, I have to.I can’t lose you.” When she opened her eyes again, tears were streaming down her face.
Somehow, I snapped to alert enough to defend myself. It was pure instinct taking over as the panic set in. “I can’t go in there, Andi,” I told her bluntly, having her words cut me, not wanting to go. “I can fix myself. I promise. You know I can’t be in there.” I gave her a pleading look.
“I…” She started, but I dug deeper.
“You know my mom used to bring me to the doctors all the time when my daddy beat the hell out of me. I’ve been poked and prodded, asked all kinds of questions that I couldn’t answer. They stuck needles in me and scared the ever-loving shit out of me. You can’t leave me here.”
Being in hospitals all the time was the reason I was taken away from my biological mother when I was six. I didn’t understand it at the time. Hell, I still didn’t understand why she let him beat on me all the time and never stopped him. I looked it up on the internet once and read about something called Munchausen syndrome and wondered if that was what my mother had, because why else would she take me to the doctor after my father hurt me? Didn’t she fear she would get in trouble?
“I know,” she whispered. “I love you. You are the best friend a woman could ask for.”
I looked at her, wide-eyed. She was going to do it. I wasn’t going to change her mind. Ihadto change her mind, though.
Before I could speak, she continued, “Nothing I do is helping. You have to go in there so you can get better.”
“No,” I answered instantly. “I’m better.” I perked up as I felt the guys outside my door jiggling the handle. “I promise, Andi. I’ll be fine,” I tried. I was frantic, grasping at straws, hoping she would buy it. I scrounged around for anything to make her change her mind. “Child Protective Services brought me here when a foster brother of mine decided to cut me in my sleep,” I blurted, trying anything I could come up with so she wouldn’t let them take me.
Andi’s eyes clouded as more pain filled them. I thought I had hit the nail on the head, but…
“I can’t. This isn’t going to work. You need this. It’s for your own good.”
I exploded, the anger bursting out uncontrollably when I realized I wasn’t going to change her mind. I completely lost it.
“You fucking bitch! I can’t believe you are doing this to me!” I clenched my hands into fists and pounded them into the dashboard hard. The doors to the car unlocked, and my head swung frantically to where the guys were coming at me. “You’re a fucking bitch! I hate you! I’m gonna die hating you! Remember that!” I yelled as the two guys each grabbed one of my arms and hauled me out of the car. I kept yelling at Andi, spewing nasty thing after nasty thing, riding on panic. Everything inside me was on edge.
I looked back to Andi, seeing her tears coating her face along with agony.
“You can die hating me, but I can rest knowing I tried and loved you through this,” she said.
I was too pissed to care.
I fought. I did. The first needle they tried to stick me with fell to the floor because I kicked so much. The guys had ahold of my arms pretty tightly, so the only things I had were my legs. The second needle didn’t miss, and I screamed at the sharp pain just before I passed out.
***
Slowly blinking my eyes, I felt as if there were sand in them. I reached up to rub them, only to find my arms and ankles were attached to the bed. My mouth was dry from the sterile air of the room as I inhaled deeply, smelling disinfectant and that distinct smell of hospital. The beeping machines did nothing to calm the panic as it hit me head-on. I thrashed back and forth on the scratchy sheet, wailing, my arms and legs wanting to be free.
It wasn’t long before a woman wearing kitten-covered scrubs appeared by the door with a small smile on her face. I didn’t know what the hell there was to smile about.
“You’re awake,” she said in some damn, sing-song, happy voice.
Puke.
“Get these off.” I raised my arms as far as the white straps would allow, which wasn’t far, flailing them for emphasis.
She stepped into the room. “Sorry, Reign. I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can,” I told her sternly.
“Nope.” She began checking all of the machines around me. That was when I noticed my hand had IVs plugged into it.
“What are you putting in me?”
