The Story of Dr. Brown {REVAMPED)

Prologue

The Story of Dr. Brown {REVAMPED}

Benjamin and Taylor Brown were in the hospital, waiting to see if there was something wrong. Taylor had suddenly gotten sick with no fever, and had no signs of a normal illness. She felt drained of energy, felt nauseous, and had even vomited a few times throughout the week. She had also suffered from a change in her appetite, being unable to eat or even be around certain foods.

Taylor had blonde hair, green eyes, and had porcelain skin. She wore a white pinafore dress with taupe colored heels and white socks. Despite her sudden illness, she looked calm and collected.

Benjamin was pale, but had a slight tan. His brown hair was messy, and he had bags under his brown eyes. His eyes were also bloodshot, and his face was flushed.

The doctor, a man with bright green eyes, soon walked in, and the two looked at him before he spoke.

"Congratulations," said the doctor. "You're pregnant!"

The couple looked at him, shocked. How could this have happened? Taylor asked herself.

Benjamin gritted his teeth as he spoke.

"Isn't that just peachy, Taylor?" He pulled Taylor up by the arm, gripping it tight. Taylor just nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Smith."

"Of course." Dr. Smith gave the couple a small smile as they left. His smile faltered as he noticed something on Taylor's sleeve. "Sir? Is your wife bleeding?"

"What gives you that idea?" Asked Benjamin as he turned to face Dr. Smith, who pointed at her sleeve as he responded.

"There was blood on her sleeve." Benjamin went to say something, but Taylor responded first.

"Oh, no, that's paint." Was her response. Benjamin gripped her arm tighter.

"Alright then... Congratulations, again, sir. Ma'am." Benjamin and Taylor left the hospital, walking back to their house. I can't let this child grow up in this place... Taylor thought, but she knew that it was in vain. She had nowhere else to go, no friends to turn to. She was stuck with Benjamin until she died.

#

Nine months after the initial appointment, a drunken Benjamin and bruised Taylor were back in the hospital. Her water had broken as she was walking downstairs to find something to eat. Taylor begged the newer doctor to help her, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. After the cord was cut, the doctor gave her a small smile as he handed her son to her and spoke.

"It's a boy." Taylor smiled softly, but it was forced. I'm sorry, baby... She moved the hair out of the baby's face and looked at the doctor and nurses in the room. "What are you going to name him?"

"Barry..."

"A wise decision." A voice called from the door. Everyone looked as Benjamin walked over and looked at his son. "He looks like..."

"Like you." Taylor finished for him, and Benjamin nodded once.

"Just like his daddy... When can we take him home?"

"Oh, um... Sir... You and your wife can't take him home until tomorrow."

"... Why not?" Benjamin got in the nurse's face, making the nurse feel threatened.

"Because of some... Concerns that arose while your wife was in here without you..."

"Concerns? Of what kind?" Benjamin's voice deepened slightly, slowly becoming threatening.

"The kind where... Her and your son nearly died."

"... Oh." Benjamin backed off. "They nearly died, did they, nurse?" Benjamin knocked over one of the medical trays. "Or is that just an excuse to keep them away from me!?"

"Benjamin, Barry's asleep! Keep it down!"

"Stay out of this, Taylor!" Taylor visibly flinched. She knew what was going to happen if she interfered, and for her sake, and Barry's, she stayed out of it. Besides, she was very tired.

"Sir!" The nurse exclaimed. "You can't speak to her that way...!"

"I can, I will, and I just did. Mind your own business. I'm. Taking. Them. Home." The nurse went to say something when Dr. Smith stopped her.

"Alright, sir." He agreed. "If you insist."

"I insist."

"You just have to sign a few things." Benjamin signed the discharge papers and the ADA form that signified Benjamin was willfully taking Taylor and Barry from the hospital against the doctor's advice.

#

Only five years after Barry's birth was when his mother died.

At this point, Barry had taken up his father's habit of leaving his brown hair messy. He was the spitting image of Benjamin, and his mother loved that.

But what she didn't love was the life they had.

She didn't love being called a cheating whore, or a slut.

She didn't love lying on the floor for hours, bleeding out, with hundreds of gashes and two or three stab wounds and having to call the ambulance.

She definitely didn't love that Benjamin was hurting little Barry just as bad as he was hurting her.

She just wanted it all to be over.

So she did the one thing she thought of.

She had been dealing with suicidal thoughts for the past year, and she had tried her best to push them aside for her son's sake.

But she just couldn't take it anymore. She pulled a gun from her desk drawer and held it to her head, her finger fiddling methodically with the trigger...

Barry was looking around for his mama when the gunshot went off.

By the time he and Benjamin had found her, she was already gone.