Trauma ➸ Audrey Jensen [1]

22 ➸ pain

twenty two ; pain

♕

AUDREY

I sat down in a chair, staring off into space, as Brooke was all over the news. I could barely collect myself, but I still had to be here to take care of Harley. Tears were always rolling down my face, and I have never been so weak in my life. I've always been the strong one.

Harley didn't seem to notice what was going on, so I simply changed the channel to something she liked to watch. She kept her eyes fixed on the screen without saying a word. You thought you could take a broken girl and completely fix her. You thought you could heal her wounds. She can never be fixed.

I cried in the palm of my hands, leaning against the hospital bed. Every time I looked at her, my heart shattered all over again. The room door opened—and the doctor walked in with a smile on his face and some paperwork. "She's been here for about a month, and her wound is healing very quickly, so I think maybe we can release her. Under your watch, of course."

"She can't even move by herself and you're releasing her?" I questioned, dropping my arms to my side. He sighed. "There was no suicide attempt. We cannot admit her to the facility. As much as I do want her to get some help, she's going to need a real help facility, not a silly hospital inpatient facility for teenagers who self harm," he explained.

"Just watch her, keep her safe, make sure she takes her medications twice a day, and do not touch her abruptly. Slow human contact, or else she will attempt to hurt you. While you were gone she tried to rip out a nurses throat with her teeth. She put that nurse in a hospital bed." He continued to explain to me what I needed to do, while I was holding in my tears.

"Oh, and no sudden movement, and speak very softly. She is very traumatized, and she has no idea who anybody is. She thinks we want to kill her," he sighed, signing his name to the discharge paper. "If you're so concerned, there is a professional, long term inpatient facility a few miles from here."

"I can't do that. I love her," I said. At this point, I couldn't hold back the tears. "It's what's best. She will be safe from danger, and they will help her. Keep in mind that it is optional. You could keep her well rested at home."

I nodded, going over to get Harley out of bed. "Be careful. She has no idea who you are," the doctor mentioned. I glared at him. "Yeah. I got it." I gently pulled her off the bed, sitting her down in a wheelchair.

"You'll be alright, my love. I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to keep you safe," I told her. Even though she wasn't listening, I had hopes that deep down, she knew it was me.

I took her to the front desk, signing about a million papers before waving goodbye and taking her to the car. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you home." I lifted her into the car while she stared into space. I took the wheelchair with me. I hopped in the front and buckled both of our seat belts, making sure hers was tight.

She realized she was locked in tight, and began to panic, and started screaming. She still didn't have her voice back. "Baby, please, it's just me!" I shouted, holding her down. She jerked around in her seat trying to get free, and there was nothing I could do but let it pass. I pulled away from the hospital, driving home while I'm listening to her airy screaming and moving around to break free.

She was throwing a fit like a two year old. It seemed like a day drive, when it was only five minutes until I pulled up to my house, and she was still freaking out. I unbuckled her seatbelt, trying to hold her down. She launched herself at me, grabbing my neck and shoving me against the car. I knew I could take her, but I couldn't hurt her. Ever. She slammed my head against the hood of the car, and I had no choice.