Caged Animals (A Story of Bullying)

*Chapter Nine*

A/N: Thank you all so, so much for being patient! I apologize heartily; I feel terrible for making you wait this long. I hope you enjoy it anyway, and aren't too horribly angry with me? Anyhoo...

You are gorgeous. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You're beautiful, amazing, talented, generous, charitable, kind, wonderful, awe-inspiring...there are people out there that love you. I'm one of them. I love all of you; every single one of you is beautiful. You're absolutely indescribable: that's how wonderfully amazing you are. I love you. If you need to talk to someone, I'll always be here. I'm on every day, even if I don't update, so I will respond fairly quickly. I'm always here. And always remember: You're BEAUTIFUL. :-)

"Every flaw is a beauty mark. Every scar has a story." ~LiveWhileYourYoung

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*Chapter Nine*

I fidgeted uncomfortably in the stiff hospital chair, the entirety of my body wracked with pangs of pain and my casts itchy underneath their surface. My left leg had goosebumps from the sterilized cold of the hospital: as it didn’t have a cast, the athletic shorts Harbor had dropped off for me offered the skin no protection against the chill. My arms were more shielded, as I could pull a sweatshirt over both of them, though each had a cast or brace attached to some length of it. I sat with my arms wrapped anxiously around myself, letting my hair fall limply in front of my pale, bruised, and battered face; I didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone: one glimpse of the dull, lifeless green of my irises and they would be catapulting me straight to the nearest psychiatric ward for the insane. I may have been able to hide my listless expressions with a faked grin, or assure someone with my voice that I was alright, but there was no way I could brighten my eyes to their former vivacity without surgical treatment.

            Yes, it was better to wait for him without seeing anyone else.

            I was still in the dark as to the identity of my “caregiver.” Though I had prodded and pleaded with Harbor—even resorting to childish whining near the end—he still refused to give me even the slightest hint. I had been debating the topic in my mind for the whole of the twenty-four hours. Could it be Seth? No, he had to go back to Juilliard with my brother, and Harbor needed him more than I did. Was it some long lost relative that I had had no idea existed? I had hoped in vain for that option, but I knew it wasn’t true. If it had been, Harbor and I would have been tossed into their care years ago. That left only one choice: a complete stranger was being sent to look after me.

            My stomach churned at the reminder. If I had to stay home, I would rather stay home alone. I had already been doing that anyway, even when my invisible injuries soared to overwhelming heights, nearly suffocating in their tendencies. Over the years, while I grew into a reserved, broken, beaten version of myself, longing for pain to mask the pain, I had been very nearly alone. Harbor had been there, yes, but who was there at night when I needed comforting? Who was there over the course of the long school days, reaching out to block the taunting and teasing? Who was there over the bittersweet symphony of summer break, where I relished being bullied less—though cyberbullying became more prominent then—but cursed the days leading up to school? No one had been, that’s who. I was perfectly fine, in a way, on my own.

            I had tried to explain that fact to Rita and Jane that morning; I had figured the kinder half of my nurses would understand. But both had identical reactions: raised eyebrows, a quirk of a smile, a slight chuckle, and a motherly, “That’s what everyone thinks, dear,” before returning to whatever other duties they had for the day. There was simply no logical way to escape this mess, and I had to accept that.