Shattered

Chapter Three

The screech of our thirty year old car could be heard from miles away. I was terrified on what my Dad was going to do. Would he just beat me more? I felt like puking as I could hear my sobbing Mom and my truck driver mouth Dad working their way up the hallways. My Dad was swearing and my Mom crying her eyes out. Man can that woman act. The door burst open and a blood shot drunken Dad was standing there.

"Let's go." He snarled.

"No." I exclaimed, quite loud and with confidence.

"I'm not going to argue with you. Let's. Go. Now." He was stepping closer, and I crinkled my eyes.

"Excuse me, sir, Hadley can't leave until tomorrow. Doctor's orders." We all turned to the door where a friendly nurse was standing, smiling.

"No. She leaves now. We need her at home." The nurse frowned.

"Sorry sir but she can't leave. She has to stay." Before anyone could say another word, my Dad grabbed my wrist and started running down the hall- with me still flailing behind him.

"DAD STOP! STOP! YOU'RE DRUNK, STOP IT!" I shrieked, praying to somebody- anybody, that he would let go of me. But he kept running. When we reached the stairs he stopped, but only to toss me down. I rolled down the stairs, smacking into the wall, and only being able to sob for a moment before getting pushed down the other flight of stairs, tumbling and crying in pain. It seemed like hours before I finally reach the cold cement floor. I shut my eyes as I saw two legs appear in front of me. Instead of beating me, I felt two strong hands pull me up, and the mysterious person pulled me to them, and helped me to a chair. I didn't get to catch the persons face before he- or she, fled the area.

"WHERE'D YOU GO?!" I heard a familiar voice scream. I couldn't just sit here. I needed to get up and run. I didn't want to get hurt again. My legs were sore and my arms probably bruised, and I felt a little blood trickling from my head. But I shakily got up and started running down the hallway that the mysterious person ran down. My legs weren't moving very fast, and I probably looked really scratched up, but that didn't stop me. I needed to go. I kept running down the hallway, and ran into the first door that was open. I slammed the door and turned my back towards it. I started sobbing and slowly fell down the door, so I was sitting on the floor.

"Who's there?" I heard a voice call out. I didn't want to leave the room, so I buried my head in my arms and hoped that whoever was there, wouldn't hurt me anymore then I already am. I figured that I was in a nice hospital room, with two beds and a nice bathroom. I hiccupped and sniffed softly, hoping the person just wouldn't care. I heard somebody walking towards me and I sobbed even more, not daring to look up.

"Hey didn't I help you up from the stairs you fell down?" Exclaimed the boy, who had a very nice British accent. Still not looking up, I smirked to myself.

"Believe me, I didn't fall."

"Yeah you did, you were on the ground." I sighed to myself, and still having my head in my arms, softly said,

"I didn't fall. I got pushed." The boy was quite for a few moments, but I felt the same strong hands take me from under my arms and pull me up. I was weak, and fell into his arms. He stepped back and placed me on a chair beside a desk. I finally glanced up, and as I did, I started freaking out.