Divergent Powers High

Chapter 32: Everything is Wrong

One of the nurses walks into the room, offering me an exhausted smile. 

"Hello, Six, how are you feeling?" 

I look down at my thin legs, looking as if they could snap in half at a moments notice. 

"Are you really going to fucking ask that?" I growl, reaching for the wall to stand. 

She looks hurt, not sarcastically, genuinely hurt. 

"I'm sorry ma'am." She whispers, walking over to check my vitals. 

I breath heavily, eyes closed, mentally preparing to stand. 

"It's going to be hard." She says, making me turn towards her. 

"What will?" 

"Walking, You were asleep for six weeks, and you only woke up once in between. You lost a lot of muscle mass." She explains, walking over to my side. 

I gasp, eyes wide, "How was I asleep for six weeks? Why hasn't anybody come for me?" 

She smiles gently, placing a hand on my leg, "Sweetie, the bullets hit some very vital organs, one an artery through your leg, and the other through your liver, and shards hit your lungs. Your body was so overwhelmed, it needed time to recover. Do you remember the first time you woke up?" 

I cringe, remembering the awful pain, "Yes, and I-"

"You weren't ready. We forced you awake but it was too hard on you. You needed those next weeks. I'm sorry, I wish we didn't have to do that to you." 

"Why couldn't you just use a healing serum?" I question, scooting towards the end of the bed. 

She shakes her head, "Honey, those bullets were immune to the effects of your abilities. Nothing but medicine could cure those wounds. Which, I guess was alright, since now I can talk to you and take care of you." 

The nurses matronly aura was relaxing, in a sense. She comforted me just by her presence. 

I laugh, making my lungs ache, "Tell me something. How did somebody as sweet as you end up working for David?" 

She looks down, and her eyes begin watering, "It's a long story. One you don't want to hear." 

I smile, shaking my head, "I mean, I don't know what else I would do. If you help me get up to walk, I'd love to listen." 

She smiles, dimples creasing her cheeks. 

"What's your name, anyways?" I ask as she grabs my IV pole. 

"Natalie." 

I immediately look down, tears threatening to spill. Of course, she had to have the same name as my mother. 

She walks over to me, noticing the single tear drop that forces itself from my eyes. Her brows furrow in concern, "Are you okay Beatrice?"

"Don't call me that." I snap, slumping down. 

A bad decision, I discover, as my bottom half slips off the bed and I crumple to the ground. I give up, letting myself cry once more. 

She rushes over to me, putting an arm under my shoulders, intending to help me lift myself up. I don't even try to stand, I just sob and cry and shake. 

She moves her arm to just hold me, and I lean against her chest. My heart burns and my hands shake, confused and weak. 

I feel broken. Like every piece of myself, of Six, has been torn to shreds. I just wanted to be with my friends, I just wanted to be playing games or shopping with Christina or my brother. I wanted to be held in Toby's arms as I fell asleep. I wanted my mother to be singing me a song as I drifted off. 

But none of that was possible. 

Natalie strokes my hair as I whimper, shuddering every few seconds. I close my eyes, exhaustion overtaking me. 

"C-Can I just go to sleep?" I mumble, looking up at her. 

She smiles gently, "Sure. I'll save my story for another time." 

She puts her arm under my shoulders and lifts me with ease, which was almost unsettling. It was unsettling knowing I was tiny enough she could just throw me around. 

On the contrary, she sets me on the edge of the bed and swings my legs over, which I do little to help with. 

I roll a bit to get on my side, and close my eyes. Natalie pulls the warm blanket over my still shivering body, and exits promptly. 

As I'm about to let myself go, I hear a shout from right outside the door. 

"Natalie, she is not your daughter! Treat her accordingly! I said to make sure she doesn't die and doesn't run, not to help her make herself at home!" David yells. 

I wince, pulling the blanket up to my face.

 "David, I don't care what you say. She is struggling, and if her mental health is weak, she is going to be weak. I don't want her to hurt this bad and you can't let her hurt this bad. I don't care what she has done to you, or what things you've done to her, but she is still my patient." Natalie yells, anger and passion in her voice. 

David says nothing else, and I hear heavy footsteps stomping off. 

I let out a breath, a small smile creeping at my tear stained cheeks. 

Once again, I drift off into a dreamless sleep.