"Saviour Will Be There..." ((Andley Fanfic))

Chapter Thirty-Four

Andy's POV:

"O-okay, thank you, Ashley," I managed through more tears.

"Don't mention it..are you alright?" Ashley asked, his voice full of concern. I could tell he cared.

All I could do was shake my head 'no,' because I wasn't alright. I'd just spent the entire week trying so hard to overcome all these problems I've created, and now this..incident, just adds another one to the already cluttered list of things I'm supposed to recover from. I have an eating disorder that I felt was impossible to recover from, so many scars, my screwed up mind, the list goes on and on. So, no, I wasn't alright, I was the furthest thing from it.

I was done with hospitals, and nurses, and doctors; psychologists, therapy groups, all of it. I'm sick of it. It doesn't help. I'm done.

Even though Ashley assured me that this doctor, one whom he'd rushed off to find after making sure I was okay, and the psychotic guy was taken from the room, that this one was here to help. Doesn't he understand that I didn't want anymore help from any one associatied with the medical field? Even if I needed it. I'm now afraid to even get a yearly check up because of the way I've been treated by all these doctors, these people who want to 'help' me. Screw them all. It was them who took me from my friends, them who held me hostage in that psych ward, and now I've been raped, by yet another doctor.

So go ahead, ask me if I'm okay. It's not my fault if the answer isn't pleasing. I'm not okay, or anything along the lines of okay. I just want to go home. I just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask? I want to disappear. I want to die.

Ashley stood by my side as I curled up in the bed, still fighting back the tears I knew were about to spill from my watery eyes.
I was asked question after question by this other doctor, and then told the police would be involved and that the rapist would be arrested. I was told he wouldn't hurt me and that I'd be okay now. I was informed all of this by more doctors.
I couldn't answer anymore questions, and I didn't mean to start sobbing again once the police arrived.

Finally, after an hour, I was allowed to leave the hospital with Ashley. I had never been so thankful to see him in my life. I didn't mind that he carried me to the car, or that he, as hesitantly as he did, kissed my forehead after helping me into the back seat. I wanted to sit by him, but I also wanted to sleep, so that maybe, just for a little while, I could escape from the life I didn't want to live.

Ashley's POV:

As I drove things were completely quiet other than the sound of the rain pouring down outside as gentle gusts of wind blew the drops of water onto the foggy windshield of my car. That, and Andy snoring lightly in the back seat.

Andy..

I never expected to have him back so soon, and to think he's still broken just physically hurts. They were supposed to fix him, why didn't they fix him? Had this thing only been some sort of scam? I thought mental institutes were there to offer help to those who couldn't help themselves. Why didn't they help Andy? Was he too broken to be fixed? Other people have gotten better, so why not him? I thought most people left those kinds of places feeling a sense of renewed confidence. Then again, Andy isn't most people. He's Andy, and right now this was who he was, what he was; broken. Maybe there's still hope, but it's hard to have faith when the situation is hopeless.

~~~

Things didn't improve even after I'd gotten Andy safely home, carrying him inside when he refused to leave the car, and offering to stay the night because he was afraid to sleep alone. Considering what happened earlier today, I don't expect him to be comfortable talking about it, so I was hoping that maybe he'd be willing to tell me about his stay at the institution to get his mind off the past incident. Bad idea, Ashley. I'd only asked how he was doing, hoping for at least one positive memory of the place he was willing to share, but instead, he just cried. He cried until he was gasping for air, and when I slowly wrapped my arm around him, he pushed me. Telling me not to touch him, and that he didn't want to talk anymore about it, although we hadn't discussed 'it' at all. I had then offered to make him a cup of tea to calm him, and he just shook his head, got up, and left.