In The End

9: Gee, Thanks, God

  Kaylee(no, not from Firefly, tho that show is bomb. I just thought the name and face fits for this character)^^

     "No!" Mom screeches, flinging the pill bottle across the room. I sigh, going over and picking it up.
  "Mom, you need to take your meds, or your Dementia will get worse. I spent three pay checks to get you this," I beg, and she juts out her chin in defiance. I tap my foot and sigh, ready for her to stop being so stubborn! It's for her health! Why doesn't she want to take care of herself?
"Blade? Why am I in your room?" Mom asks, and I hesitate.
"Don't you remember, Mom? I went out to get you new vitamins. Here, take one," I lie, wondering if I tell her the truth if she'll still take them.
I hand two pills to her, and she plops them in her mouth, quickly accepting to water I hold out to her. I sigh in relief as she quickly chugs them down.
"Now you want to tell me what those really were?" I freeze. Busted.
Well, no more lying, she already took her daily dosage. "They're your Dementia meds. The nurse said they should balance out your memory for a longer amount of time." Mom sighs, and sits on my bed.
"So now you know." I turn to face her, shocked.
"You knew you had Dementia?" I ask, and Mom gives me a small, closed mouth smile, nodding.
"It first developed when you were about six. Your father wouldn't take me to the hospital because he thought I'd forget to keep quiet about the abuse. I've never gotten treatment for it, and your father never wanted you kids to see me when I...forget." I rub a hand down my face, trying to comprehend.
"Mom, I'm going out, okay? Hide your meds from Dad, he might take them."
"Okay. And honey?" I turn to look at her, to see tears in her eyes. "I remember what you told me, about how I left you when your dad--I didn't remember who you were-- I'm so--"
"I know, it's okay," I say, smiling at her. Sure, I still have a limp that belongs to the mid evil times, and yeah, I still feel like I'd prefer Shamoo's beating over Dad's, but is she really to blame? For all I know, she could've thought Dad was defending her honor.
I skip out of the house, my spirit high, until Mason drives up. I freeze. Trying to beeline for my car, I pray. Please don't see me, please don't see me, please don't---
As I open my car door, a hand slams it shut. I squeeze my eyes shut. Gee, thanks, God. I hesitantly turn around to face Mason, only to see his eyes red, irritated and puffy, and stubble growing on his face like he hasn't been shaving. His ash blonde hair isn't bushed, and his clothes are wrinkled. His amber green eyes are assessing me from head to toe. He steps towards me, and instinctively, I step back, making me bump into my Impala. Hurt is written all over his face at the small act, but what did he expect, he and Dad abused me for six years! Though I have to admit, I'd prefer Mason over Dad. At least my twin didn't beat Mom, too.
He puts a hand on my shoulder and lightly grasps it, and I hiss in pain. The bruises on my arms, stomach, and back still hurt the most.
As if reading my mind, his raspy voice rings out.
"Let me see." He grabs my arm lightly, and I immediately rip it away from him. He can't be kind. Not now. Not after everything.
Tears start to brim his eyes in a heavier manor. "Blade." I defiantly look past him. His kind demeanor is going to break, and his true colors will show. He grabs for my arm again, and I push his hand away. Finally he slams his hand on my car door, lifting up the bottom of my hoodie and shirt before I can stop him. He doesn't lift it far, just to my first two sets of ribs. Enough to see the heavy bruises.
Suddenly he starts to cry heavily, dropping my shirt and hoodie, resting his head in the crook of my neck. He sobs harder, making something snap inside of me and wrap my arms around him too, tears springing into my own eyes.
  I'm about to say something when I shift and hear a sickening crack!
   I only hear my brother screaming my name and footsteps before everything goes black.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*
   When I wake up, I'm in the hospital. I gasp and so up, only to see Andy Biersack and Mason sitting next to me. I start the questions.
"Is Mom okay?" He stares at me, surprised.
"Yes, wh-"
"Dakota? Elijah?"
  "Yes-"
  "Jada?"
  "Yes-"
  "Everyone from the dance crew?"
  "YES! Yes, yes, they're all okay, nobody like that is hurt." Mason snaps. I flinch.
  "T-Then why are we at the hospital?" Mason face palms, and Andy laughs, taking my hand.
  "Blade, look around you," he eggs, and I frown, but do as I'm told.
    I survey the room quickly, coming to a stop when I see something foreign in my hand. That's when I notice the IV
  "Ohmigosh NO!! Get it out get it out get it out!!" I squeak, turning my head and hiding from the thing in my arm. Andy nearly falls in surprise, while Mason rushes over to me. I flinch hard core, but he doesn't seem to notice this time.
  "Blade, Blade! Hey! It's okay! You were cleared for discharge once the doctors scope you out, which is going to happen today, so calm down, Baby Bear. It's coming out of your hand today. I close my eyes tight and extremely quietly, I murmur BMTH lyrics. I hear Mason turn to Andy and say, "she has a, uh, extreme fear of needles. Like, bad. It's only like, IVs and shots and stuff, so tattooing needles don't scare her that much." I sigh and
turn my head completely away from the thing in my hand, facing Andy and Mason.
   "So why am I in here?"
   "Okay, first you need to be the absolute calmest you can be."
   "Why," I ask Mason cautiously, fear burning up. "Mason, tell me why," the warning obvious in my voice now
   "Well-" he tries to stall, right as the doctor comes in.
"Ah, Mrs. Anders, you're up."
"Can you please tell me what's wrong? I'm kind of freaking out."
"Blade, it's nothing too too bad," Mason tries.
"He's right, eventually, you'll be able to walk and run normally, though I would recommend that you don't strain it too much, even after it's fully healed." I freeze.
"Strain what?" I say, fear engulfing me. The doctor sighs.
"Sweetheart, you broke three parts of your ankle." I feel tears silently streak my face, and I use the heels of my hands to cover my eyes. Mason sighs, and starts to ask the doctor my chance of 100% recovery while Andy wraps his arms around me while I sob.
The doctor wipes his forehead. "Sweetheart, it'll heal, don't take this so hard."
"Y-y-you don't unders-stand," I hiccup, burying my face in Andy's chest.
"What don't we understand?" Andy asks kindly, and I pull away, wiping my tears with my index finger.
"I c-can't have a b-broken a-ankle."
"Why?"
"B-Because I'm a d-dancer."