Breaking Loose [Original]

27

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Twenty Seven
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Oren took a shaky breath before stepping into Doctor O’Neil’s office in Harry's unavoidable absence.

They had stayed the night, and that day Harry had something to catch up with at the bank.

Everest and Jaden left with not much of an excuse. Surely they knew something he didn't and even if he was aware of the fact and how it hurt, what he felt now—about Asher—easily overwhelmed them.

He prayed for peace—slowly, uncertainly—never knowing what to expect, but fearing what was to be known.

These private sessions with doctors rarely bore good news.

A woman rose to her feet as they entered, her smile warm, her eyes kind. Too kind.

"Hello," she greeted, offering a hand. "I’m Doctor O’Neil. Please, have a seat."

Oren rubbed his palms together, a subconscious attempt to rid himself of the nervous energy crawling beneath his skin. He managed a bashful nod before lowering himself onto the chair.

She retracted her hand.

He felt bad, he refused a hand shake unintentionally—well he let his nerves get the best of him.

A thick silence settled over them.

No words were exchanged, yet it felt like it should have been that way—like the weight of reality itself had stolen speech from the room.

Doctor O’Neil cleared her throat and pulled a folder toward herself, her demeanor shifting from warm to professional.

"So. She has a mild concussion and a scar we had to stitch. We've given her something to relieve the aches, and that’s just about it. God has been good."

Oren blinked. The abrupt change in her tone caught him off guard.

He barely had time to process before she flipped a page and continued, her brows knitting together.

"I ran some other tests and… how long have you known her?"

"About three months," he answered, unsure where this was going.

"Hmm. Well, what I learned is that she doesn't have close family members and that makes things harder for me"

"Is there a problem?"

Doctor O’Neil finally looked up, her eyes carrying something unreadable. Something heavy.

"Has she ever complained to you about abuse?"

Oren stiffened.

"I’m sorry?"

The doctor exhaled, shaking her head. "While I examined her body for other injuries, I found scars. Brutal ones. Now, from my years of experience, I know those weren’t mere accidents—they were inflicted. And what peaks my suspicion of abuse is that they were located in… questionable areas."

Oren’s stomach twisted violently.

"Oh… well, she never told me," he murmured, the words tasting like failure on his tongue.

But suddenly, it all made sense.

The faraway gazes. The hollow look in her eyes. The way she shut down when certain topics arose.

A wary feeling crept into his chest. He knew something was off about her, had always known, but this—this was something else entirely.

She hid it well. Too well.