End Game: Happy

Chapter 1

Mackenzie Foy as Sara Beck

Sara's POV

Bright lights clouded my vision as I struggled to look around the room I was in. "Sara?" I heard my mother's voice speak to me as my eyes adjusted to the bright lighting. I could immediately tell I was laying on a gurney in the emergency room. My mother had a frantic look plastered on her face.

I couldn't remember what had happened or how I ended up here. Was it an overdose again? Was it too deep or possibly did I pass out from the lack of food? I thought before opening my mouth looking at my mother's worried brown eyes.

"What happened?" A growing pain in my left arm throbbed as tried to breathe through the pain. My mom quickly stood from her seat, walking out of the room without saying another word.

Within seconds, she and a couple of doctors filled the room. The tallest one with brown hair stepped towards me, his voice was deep. "Sara, do you remember what happened?"

"I don't know what happened." I glanced between the other doctors as I spoke. It appeared odd to me the two of them weren't in scrubs, instead, they were both dressed in a suit and a dress. Were they even doctors? I looked over towards my mother waiting for her to supply any or all answers.

"You fell and quite a fall that was indeed. Your mother mentioned you had fallen down the stairs but, we know that isn't true." The doctor spoke again looking in my mom's direction. The two figures behind the doctor stepped forward. "At this time we would like to request to speak with Sara alone." The short tan skinned female spoke. I watched the doctor escort my mom out of the room as the pain in my shoulder grew.

Were these the agents to lock me up for my mental illnesses? Have they finally caught up with me all these years? I thought of studying both of them.

The male had bright blonde hair paired with a tall muscular figure. The woman, however, was petite but had a muscular figure paired with brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. "Let us introduce ourselves." The male spoke stepping closer towards me.

"Are you here to take me away?" I looked around, not wanting to make eye contact with either of them.

"No, we are not authorized to do that." The woman spoke quickly. I turned towards the both of them as the male glared down at her for interrupting him.

"As I was saying, This is Christina and I am Henry we are with Child Protective Services. Today we were called to the hospital because of your case. We have a few questions for you about your father." I breathed out a sigh of relief as Henry pulled a chair over to the edge of my bed.

"At this point, you can tell us or stay silent. We are here just to lend a helping hand if needed." Christina spoke standing near my right bedside.

• • •

The sound of a microwave beeping brought me out of my trance as I turned to look at my mother who was adjusting her short brown hair into a ponytail. "Is it leftovers again?" I questioned. My mother turned around with pasta in her tan hands nodding while also sighing.

You could tell even she was frustrated and tired of eating the same leftovers for the third day in a row. But my mother and I both knew better than to argue or complain. We had no say in what we ate and what we do.

My mother set down a white bowl with pasta in front of me as she forced out a smile. "I heard the third day is always the best tasting day!" She tried to sound happy and excited about it. We both knew she was miserable and was rarely happy.

"I'd believe it." I spoke picking up my fork stabbing my noodles.

"Where are my damn noodles!" My father shouted walking into the kitchen. My father was a tall very well built man, someone you definitely did not want to argue or look at for too long. I watched my mother hand him his noodles as a grin plastered on his face. "Wonderful absolutely wonderful!" He took a seat from across me and began eating. My mother took her seat next to mine as she tried to eat the noodles.

"Sara! How would you like to eat a different kind of noodle next week?" My father almost yelled even though we sat at the same table barely two feet apart. I shook my head, "I love these noodles we have so much of them I couldn't imagine eating another." I ate another spoonful of the plain noodles quickly swallowing them. He smiled finishing his bowl and nodded back before pushing himself up from the table walking into the other room.

I knew better than to even accept his change or suggest one. That is unless I wanted another bruised shoulder or a broken one. I am quite fond of them so I will continue eating these disgusting and repulsing noodles. I turned towards my mom seeing her bowl half full her brown eyes connected with mine as I sighed. "You need to eat them, mom, you can't starve yourself." I stabbed my noodles aggressively as I brought them up to my mouth.

"Stop its too much just stop already!" "You idiot she has to finish her bowl otherwise you know what will happen!" The voices rang in my head as I chewed the last of the noodles.

I fake smiled to my mother as she tried to flash a smile back. Her tan tired face spoke almost one thousand truths about my father. We both hated him yet we still stayed. Every day we played his game hoping he didn't get angry or even irritated. I lifted my bowl up walking towards the sink.

"How is the medicine working?" My mother spoke her mouth dry. Setting my bowl in the sink I lifted the faucet rinsing it out.

"Ohhhh will she tell her it isn't working a damn?"
"Obviously not! Hahaha, why would she do that he would get angry again!"  The voices spoke inside my head again.

I turned towards my mom and shrugged my shoulders. "Fine, I guess." I could tell my mother wasn't convinced with my answer and she wanted more. Her brown eyes studied me as she struggled to eat more of the pasta. "If it's not working you need to tell me, I want to help you. I will always love you no matter the cost." She reached her right arm over to grab my dads bowl only to stack it on hers before standing up. "I know mom and I love you too." I spoke walking past her out of the kitchen.

My dad sat in the family room in his brown sofa drinking his favorite beer while laughing at reruns of any and all TV shows. I was quiet enough not to make a sound or step on the floorboards that creaked. Once I arrived at my door I slowly twisted my bronze doorknob opening the door. I had one window in my room along with a dresser and bed. Nothing else was needed according to my father.

Sitting my small figure on my bed I sighed looking down at my tan wrists. They were still a blackish purple color from this morning when I had tried to eat cereal. Actually, I could almost feel the pain from it. I laid down on my bed as I ran my hands over my hip bones feeling the scars that I had made shortly after the bruising. If only this and the voices could kill me now that would be ideal. But that wouldn't happen the voices only argue between each other and I try to not let them control me.

It's been over a year since I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia, Borderline Personality Disorder, Schizoaffective disorder, and a shit ton of Anxiety with a side of Suicidal Tendencies.

How am I still alive? I am asking the same question but it must be for a reason.