Highest Rank #61 in Fanfiction! Juliette McGill finds the perfect position as a nanny for a young boy with special needs. Only when she arrives at the family's home in British Columbia, she discovers that the boy is not quite what she expected and t...
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In a last ditch effort to change Theodore's mind about the drugs, I called him to try to reason with him. I knew it was probably futile, but maybe some of Harry's optimism had been rubbing off on me. "I'm afraid to give these medications to Harry because he could have serious complications," I firmly told Theodore.
"They're prescribed by a medical doctor," he said, emphasizing the word medical. "They are fine."
"He hasn't been seen by a doctor!" I retorted, putting on the air of courage even though my insides were trembling. "I don't know how things work in Canada, but in the US, there's not a single doctor I knew of who would prescribe medications without actually seeing the patient. In person!"
"I don't fucking care what they do in fucking America!" He raged and I could hear his calculated breath over the phone. "You will do as I tell you! Or you're gone."
I realized after that phone call that I was handling too much of this. Not that I expected Harry to step in and handle it, but I wasn't even giving him that opportunity. He was an adult for fuck's sake and I was going to start treating him like one! So I was going to let him make the decisions, with my help, of course.
I sat down with him and carefully explained everything that I suspected. With or without his birth certificate, I wanted him to know that the medical forms said he was older. "Do you remember anyone ever telling you how old you were?" I asked.
"I'm seventeen," he shrugged.
"But if you don't remember having birthdays, what if you skipped some years and you're really older? Like maybe you thought you were sixteen but that was for two years. Can you remember anything like that? Like maybe you were a certain age but you went through two winters or summers?"
He looked a little uncomfortable and cringed. "I don't...I don't know, Jules. Maybe."
"Please try," I encouraged him.
Again, my heart split in two when he started crying softly. He rubbed his hands up and down his face and sniffed. "I don't know," he repeated. "I j..ju...just remember...before you came, everything was b...blurry. I did my school work and watched TV and slept." He met my gaze with absolute heartache. "I don't...don...don't remember much about my life." I wiped his cheeks with my own hands, trying to soothe his nerves and his stuttering. "Wh...when you got here," he said with a weak smile, "That's when I felt like I started living."
Where my heart had been split, it was now fusing back together with his words. "I'm so sorry that happened to you," I said, still holding his face in my hands. "All I can tell you is that from now on, you will remember a lot more and you're going to make your own choices."
"When I turn 18, right?" He said.
"Well, I think...I think that you're actually older."
"Really?" He asked, sitting up straighter in surprise. "What? How? I mean how did you find out?"
