I wake when something touches my arm. I startle and the movement shoots pain throughout my body. I'm still hooked up to the BiPAP. My eyes take a moment to focus on the world around me. Everything I see takes longer to process with my drugged up mind. Except for my parents. The fear is palpable. The heart monitor begins to beep a little faster. Joaquin sits in the chairs pushed against the wall. What looks like two officers stand in the doorway. Am I in trouble? My father just stares at me, his smirk beating down on my chest. I would have stopped breathing if it wasn't for this stupid machine. He grunts and my mother takes a step forward. Her hand still rests on my arm. I want to pull it away, but it currently feels detached from my body.
"River, honey, we've come to say goodbye. We're not allowed to see you for a while," her voice cracks at this. "I'm so sorry," she whispers. "Joaquin's family has agreed to take you in, to foster you for the time being. We love you, and we never want you to forget that." She removes her trembling hand from me and starts to head towards the door. She pauses and then quickly kisses my forehead. Ow. A tear slides down her face, as well as mine. The two officers escort them out. A doctor and Joaquin remain. My chest hurts. Not because of the bruises or because of the breaks. My heart just aches. Will I ever see them again? Yes, they hurt me. No, I'll never be able to forgive them. But are they still my parents? Are they still the people that birthed me, raised me, cared for me, and loved me? Yes.
Joaquin quickly strides over and grabs my hand. It should hurt, but it doesn't. He doesn't say anything. And, for some reason, it's better than words. He and I just are.
"You have surgery tomorrow. That's why they needed your parents to come in. To sign all of that stuff. I'm so sorry, Riv. I wish I could've helped," Joaquin says after a long, long time.
"Please, don't blame anyone but them. You couldn't have done anything." My voice sounds weird; dry, scratching, choked.
Joaquin just sighs. I try to lighten the mood.
"So, can we not kiss, now that I'll technically be your brother and everything?"
Joaquin bursts out laughing. And then he kisses me.
"Does that answer your question?"
I nod, or at least attempt to nod. And then I realized how utterly exhausted I am.
"Qui, could you come lay in the bed with me?"
"I don't think I'll fit with all the wires and tubes. I'm sorry." He pauses as he scans the room. "Give me a second." I close my eyes and wait. I hear scraping and the sound of furniture moving. I open my eyes. The long table the same height as the bed for patients has made its way over to me. Joaquin has grabbed a pillow and blanket from the cabinets and has prepared his own little bed. I smile. He lays down, and looks really uncomfortable. But he does it anyway, and lays facing me. A pang of guilt fills my stomach, but I just reach for his hand. He grabs it and kisses it. And with that, sleep pulls me in again.
The surgery went smoothly. They went in to fish out some broken fragments from my ribs and fixed any damage to the growth plates in my foot and arm. A day after the surgery, after I'm well rested, I'm interviewed by social services. I gave them an account of the abuse that I've endured. That's all they needed from me. From there, they went over my plan for school, for home, for the future. I felt so alone. After I got my cast on my arm, my stomach wrapped in a thousand bandages in what they called a splint, and my foot booted, I was discharged after a week and a half in the hospital. Joaquin wanted to be there all the time, but he had school, he had a home to go home to. He tried to visit everyday, but when he couldn't, he would call me. I haven't told him about what caused me to be late. He hasn't asked. I think he has a pretty good idea though, which is probably why he texts me every hour. It's not like I could do anything here in the hospital. I appreciate it though. I need it. My body is still exhausted when I'm wheeled out and to Joaquin's house. He helps me into his bed and I immediately fall asleep. I think it's my body working so hard to heal everything, but I think it's also my brain trying to process and block everything that's happened. I'm ordered on bed rest for the first two days, just for my foot to get the rest it needs. After that, I can put pressure on it for about an hour a day, and then after a couple days, it'll increase more and more until I don't need the wheelchair anymore. Qui's parents have been really nice and very supportive. I'm sure they've had their fair share of pity cases with being foster parents and all. They come and check on me every once and awhile, but only because Joaquin never leaves my side if he doesn't have to. In any ordinary situation, I would feel babied. But now, I've never felt so loved in my life.
I wake to hushed whispering in the hall. I open my eyes and try to get a good look. The bedroom door is open and Joaquin is talking with his parents.
"We really think that it would be best if he gets help now, not waiting for him to start making peace with everything and then having to relive it again," Mrs. Castillo says.
"We just want to help him," Mr. Castillo agrees.
"I know, I just think he needs a little more time," Joaquin stresses. "He's had a lot happen to him, and I'm not just talking about recent events."
"Yes, we've been informed by the officers that talked with his parents about his past," Mr. Castillo sighs. Mrs. Castillo just shakes her head sadly.
"No, no, not just that." My heart sinks. Please, I think. Please, I don't want them to know.
"River's had more trauma than just family. He told me, he told me that his best friend killed herself a few years back. I think he's been struggling with some of that himself. I found him once, about to," he didn't finish.
Mrs. Castillo has a hand over her mouth.
"More of a reason why he should get help now, not later," Mr. Castillo urges.
"I know, I know. But please, just give him a little more time." It all clicks. I've probably been appointed court mandated therapy. Makes a shit ton of sense. But Qui's right, I don't have it in me right now. His parents nod and both kiss him on the cheek before walking away. I move my head to look at the clock. A couple of stars invite themselves in. 9:56 p.m. I hear Joaquin say goodnight and the door close. I try to find him without lifting myself up, but by the looks of it, he's changing in the bathroom. I can see his reflection in the mirror. He has the door open, probably so he can keep an eye on me. I watch him, my stomach filling with butterflies. Or that may be the bruises. After he's pulled on a loose shirt, he catches me staring. He smiles and walks over.
"Good to see you awake," he says before planting a kiss on the top of my head. He walks around to the other side of the bed and nestles in behind me. Big spoon, little spoon. Held together spoon, breaking spoon. He cautiously tries to put an arm around my waist. I just pull it over. It hurts like hell, but it goes away. He rests his head on my shoulder and sighs, breathing on my ear.
"You heard us, didn't you," he says.
"Yeah. I promise, I'm gonna do it soon, but I just want some more time," I say, repeating the words that he had told his parents.
"I know. I just don't want you to get bad again."
"I won't."
YOU ARE READING
Oblivion
Teen Fiction"I can't help it. I just sob. The weight of my body is astounding. Without thinking too much of it, I fall into his lap, laying on his legs. This doesn't seem to phase him because he just plays with my hair and strokes my back. Is this what it feel...
