- a pastor's daughter who's too afraid to admit she's in love with a woman and
she's willing to go through fire and water to make sure no one knows, theeven if it means losing the only person who's ever cared about her.
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- “ma’am? ma’am, can you hear me?” she heard muffled voices as her eyes slowly opened.
when she was fully conscious, she felt soreness surrounding her body, making her let out a small groan.
she turned her head ever so slightly and looked around at the white barren walls.
her ears were met with the continuous sound of beeping machines and small chatter, telling her that she was definitely in a hospital.
she blinked a few times before sitting up and making eye contact with a middle aged woman who had tanned skin with curly brown hair that stopped at her shoulder.
“hi, hello, i’m dr. turner, do you know where you are?”
the young girl didn’t answer right away, but her hoarse voice let out “hospital.” soon enough.
“okay, so your memory seems fine for now. would you mind telling me your name?” dr. turner asked, resulting in the girl becoming defensive.
“why? why am i here first of all?” she asked, the last thing she remembered was being in a small apartment with her friends.
“you suffered an overdose ma’am. on percocet.” dr. turner told her. the girl looked down shamefully, before turning her head, facing away from the doctor.
“can i at least have your name?”
“you’re going to call the cops, aren’t you?” she whispered, continuing to look away from the woman.
“it depends, were the drugs yours? do you have any in your belongings?”
“no, it wasn’t mine, i’d get kicked out of my shelter if i had that.”
“okay, if that’s the case, my only concern now is helping you.”
“i don’t need any help.” a sniffle came from the hospitalized girl. “well you’re in here because you overdosed, and it turns out you are no stranger to hospitals and od’s.”
“yeah, so what?” she spat harshly after she turned her head towards the doctor. “i’ve od’d a few times before, but i’m always fine.”
“um, we’ll move on then, you mentioned you’re in a shelter, how long have you been there?” the doctor asked quietly. “is that important?”
“yes, it actually is.”
the girl rolled her eyes, but reluctantly agreed, “five years, since i was 11.”
“the reason why i’m here, if you don’t know already, is because i’m a psychiatrist, there have been concerns about you.”
“i’m not an addict or anything if that’s what you think.”
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