The Giving.

Chapter 3

  I quickly go down the stairs instead of taking the elevator, so that I don't hear anymore insults about me being slow.

  The coffee was only $5 and I barely had enough bills, so I had to use coins from my wallet.

  I hussled up the stairs until I felt a pain in my left ankle. I sit down on the stairs and take off my tennis shoe. My left ankle's skin was peeled off and was covered in blood.

  Damn it, I didn't have any bandaids with me. It was so painful that it took my energy from getting up.

  As I was trying to rub the blood from my ankle, there was a shadow drawn over me. I look up and was hoping it would be a nurse. It was Dr. Howard.

  " Ho-How did you-" I stutter by his surprising appearance.

  He kneels down in front of me and held his hand out. He must want his coffee, so I grab the coffee and give it to him, but he refuses.

  He grabs and takes a look at my scraped ankle. He takes a bandaid out of his pocket from his coat and puts it on my ankle. He looks up to me and I felt so embarrassed.

" So clumsy.." He smirks. He grabs his coffee and walks off while leaving me confused. How did he know I was here? Why did he help me? I was really thankful for him putting the bandaid on even though I could've put it on myself. My pager was buzzing and it was from Dr. Howard telling me to go to room 4b.

  I put my pager back into my small pocket and run upstairs to the fourth floor. I was out of breath as soon as I reach the third floor, but I kept going.

  I found room 4b and looked through the door window. One of the interns was in the middle of talking, so I quickly and quietly open the door and close it behind me.

  I walk up behind the crowd. I took out my small notebook and pen from my pocket and began to take notes. I look up to find Dr. Howard. There he is. His tone was deep when he was talking to the patient. I bit my lip and try to forget about the incident. I couldn't help, but smile.

  " Is there something to be happy about, Dr. Valley?" Crap.

" Um, no Dr. Howard. I was... just making sure my notes were in order and exact." A drop of sweat of running down my side.

  "We are here to take a good care of patient and all you care is about your notes? Is it that you care more about your education instead of actual patients who you may be giving a surgery on? Of course you need to know about your notes, but you need to know about the patients first. This is very dissappointing. If you're that eager to learn, then you shouldn't be here because all of these other interns are trying to learn about this patient who is in very critical situation and here you are. Going through your notes instead."

  Everyone was staring at me. I wanted to run away and hide, but no. That's how I was in middle school when I got the answers incorrect. Not this time. I brush through my hair.

  " You are correct. I am here just looking through my notes when I am supposed to be learning about the patient instead. But you know what? I was going through my notes to see what kind of side effects the patient could have if the surgery was done. I do know what kind of sickness he has because I have been listening. And yes I was smiling because I found out what the side effects were and the side effects didn't include any serious condition. So I'm sorry if I was doing something wrong in your eyes, but in my mind I was doing something I wanted to be proud of." My voice was strong. I walked out of the room and walked to the stairs again.

  I am in so much trouble. Damn my mouth and words from coming out like that. I should've just holded in my anger and say "yes sir." It feels good, for now. Say that you have four sisters or brothers. Your parents favorited only your three sibilings and not you. You were treated unfairly and got the most spanks. Doesn't it feel like you want to run away? Run away far, far away from the cage you are living in? It feels like the old days where slaves existed. It's still exist, but it's a secret slave that you have to keep your mouth shut about it. You can't report it because there's no strong evidence. Scars, cuts, bruises have more than one excuse. You can't hide forever, they say. You can't hide in China, Germany, Canada, wherever. But, you can run and that's what I'm doing. I'm not hiding, I'm running. I'll come back sometime, maybe in the afternoon, midnight, the next morning, but I'll come back. I will always come back.

  It was only 9:45 a.m, I just need time. What he did to me may not be a big deal to some people, but it's a big deal to me. I have never been treated like that. I was treated like a normal person. I mostly got good grades, never got in trouble, got some scholarships and turned them down, but only because I mostly had my dad. I learned something from a friend which is that dad's give you the toughness like sports and the confidence. Mom's give you the care like helping others, sharing, speaking nicely, give hugs and kisses. It's not like that. I'm never like that. My parents were the opposite. My dad was the caring one, the one that came with me to my kingergarten class because I was scared, the one that cleans the house and makes the most awesome food in the whole world, the one that reads me nighttime stories when I couldn't sleep because I was scared of the monsters under my bed, the one that. That gave me hugs and kisses and supports.

  However, my mom is way different. She's the one that got to drink, go to clubs, play poker, smoke at least 6 or 7 times, learn to do the pole dance, and she ran away. Maybe I was too much for her. Or maybe she was too much for me. Maybe she just didn't want me to do the same, but that doesn't matter. She still ran away and never came back, that's what my dad told me. You come home from school and expect your parents to come home from work, but only your dad showed up. You keep asking him," Daddy, when is mommy coming back home? I miss her." And he replies," She's working late," or," She's having a meeting." Those are the lies that girls in a ponytail and in a dress believe in, but then. They eventaully forget about them. I tried, but the other kids in school will laugh or point on you because their parents hear rumors. It will go with the history forever. Don't expect that it will go away soon. It will always be with the history. Remember this? Once a history, is always a history. It's ok if you don't, because you just did right now.

   My grandmom visits at least once a month. My grandmom is the one from my dad's side, of course. I don't knoe about my mom's, but I know that I do not want to meet them. How do I know so much about my mom when she ran away when I was 5? Yolo, so I did some research. Funny, isn't it? I'm supposed to be mad at her, but I want to know the real story behind her.

  I ran out of the building as soon as I reached the bottom of the stairs. I wanted to call my dad, but I know he will freak out.