Fragile // 5sos [under MAJOR reconstruction!]

Four.

Back at the hospital, the girl was put on medication to help calm her down, and she was soon put to sleep. She had to be woken up every two hours in case she really did have a concussion; the vomiting was the first sign, but that could have been brought on by her severe anxiety.

As she slept, the nurse stood outside with the police officer, discussing her future at the hospital.

"I really don't know how she can stay here for long with these bills piling up against her. She has no family that we know of and she could have just come from a bad foster home." The nurse sighed, and the officer agreed with her.

"We would run her through the system but she hasn't spoken yet, has she?"

"No, she hasn't. I'm wondering if she can even speak at all." Melinda responded, rubbing her forehead as a response to stress. "Maybe I should get an interpreter in... Perhaps they could help us with communication."

And so they brought in the social services' interpreter, but to no avail; the girl looked at her in confusion, as if she was just throwing her hands up in the air for no reason at all. Was this some type of alien language?

The nurse kept thinking. Perhaps she didn't speak English at all, but what would be the most common language? She couldn't bring in every language interpreter and try communication, that would be a waste of time and money.

She was only a child... But maybe she could be bribed like a child as well. Melinda's mind lit up and she was soon back in the girl's room to wake her up for a routine check. Along with her, she brought a few goodies for the girl. She sat down on the chair next to her, and held up the bar of chocolate. The girl's eyes evidently widened and she could feel the saliva building up in her mouth. Chocolate was an absolute delicacy from where she came from; she was told it was ridiculously expensive and only royals eat it. She had the privilege of eating it once when she took it from one of her client's bags that he left when he went to the bathroom.

"So, you like chocolate do you? I do too. What about this, every time you answer my question, I will give you some. Does that sound good?" She asked, and the girl quickly nodded her head, her eyes not leaving the sweet treat. Melinda was glad that she understood her, but also annoyed; she could understand her the whole time and didn't say anything?

She opened the packet and the sound was music to the girl's ears. She took a piece out and put it on a paper plate, waiting for someone to devour.

"What's your name?" She asked, and the girl glistened with sweat again. She swallowed the lump in her throat and thought about the consequences that would occur if she told her. She would be able to link her name to her face, so she could call the girl's bosses and notify them that she was there. She could lie, she could use a totally different name. She had already lost her identity and didn't want to lose it anymore. She wasn't going to lie entirely; more like a white lie.

"My name is Dru." She quietly said, as she eyed the chocolate piece. Melinda smiled largely, and picked up the plate and leaned over, where she snatched it from the plate and placed it in her mouth. The smooth chocolate melted in her mouth and she never felt so luxurious before.

"Great, that's a lovely name. My name is Melinda, see?" Melinda said, tapping on her name badge. Dru licked her fingers as she frowned at the badge.

"I don't know what that says." She responded, and Melinda's face dropped. So she couldn't read or write. Which foster home did she come from?

"Don't worry, you will. How about I teach you?" She asked, but Dru only ignored her question. She savoured the chocolate in her mouth, feeling disappointed once it disappeared entirely. "Next question. Where did you come from?"

Dru thought about it but didn't know. All she knew was that it was dark and cold all the time. She didn't think that her answer was adequate, but the woman did say that if she answered she would give her chocolate...

"I don't know." She replied, her eyes watching the woman's hands as she took out another piece. But she didn't hand it over to her; she stared at her until Dru felt uncomfortable. Melinda inaudibly sighed and leaned back. Dru looked away, feeling embarrassed for her terrible answer.  But it was true; she really didn't know where she came from, all she knew was that she didn't want to go back.

Melinda noticed her dramatic change in demeanour and didn't want to lose her trust, so she outstretched the plate and Dru quickly took the chocolate.

"Can you tell me anything about it?" She asked again, and Dru gulped nervously. What was the worst thing that would happen if she told this nice lady of her home? But there was always that nagging negative voice who told her all the possible things that could go wrong.

"I never want to go back." She finally responded, leaving Melinda to use her imagination. She took a moment, before pulling all of the pieces out of the packet and putting it on the plate. Dru widened her eyes at the amount and almost couldn't move when she handed it over to her.

"It's okay. I have plenty more." She smiled, and left the girl to herself. Dru paused and watched her leave, then placed each square next to each other neatly and stashed it into her bedside table drawer, hoping that no one will find them there.

* * *

"What were you thinking? I get a call in the middle of work saying that my son was in a fight with an older boy? This has gone too far Luke. You are grounded, and no band!" Luke's mum shrieked as soon they entered the house. Of course, since the teachers are aware of the boy's problems, he was left with a warning. Luke, however, was seen as the provoker, so he was suspended for three days for causing the fight.

"But mum! I didn't even do anything wrong!" He cried, groaning and wincing at his pulsating lip.

"Don't make me take away your guitar." She threatened, which shut Luke right up and was sent up to his room. He rolled his eyes as he reached his room and thought about slamming the door, but decided against it.

For the rest of the afternoon, he played on his phone and strummed his guitar. He couldn't help but feel overly embarrassed about the whole ordeal. He shouldn't have picked on that guy, there was a reason he didn't hang out with anyone and he should have seen it; he was total sociopath.