Chapter One

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Chapter One.

Life is a funny thing. You never know what to expect. One moment you're sitting with your parents in the car heading to the carnival, and the next thing you know you're being rushed down hallways in a stretcher. You know those cheesy movies? Where the injured person is being rushed down a hospital and nurses are being ordered around by doctors. This is what it felt like. It was so unreal. The doctor looked down at me, quickly scanning my injuries.

"Miss? Can you tell me your name?" He asked sternly.

"My...My name?" I whispered confused.

The Doctor nodded, "Do you remember your name?"

"I-"

"I need a Cat scan ready and an MRI stat!" The doctor ordered to a Nurse.

"Doctor Wesley, the victim’s parents are in the morgue. Their injuries were severe brain hemorrhages." The nurse informed grimly as she came into my view.

I might have been out of it, but I was conscious enough to understand. My parents didn't make it. I started to struggle weakly, pain shooting through my body as I did so.

"Let me die...-let me be with my parents...I don't wanna be alone." I begged.

The doctors eyes were filled with sorrow, "Stop moving. It's possible you may have internal injuries."

I didn't stop struggling which caused the Doctor to start getting frustrated.

"Calm her down; I need one to the arm."

Painfully, I turned my head sharply as there was a pinch. A needle was injected into my arm as we were inside a room. Using the last of any strength I had in me, I attempted to sit up.

"Don't sit up, you'll be okay."

There was a hand on my shoulder that was firm, yet gentle. I presumed the doctor had said that, since the drug was starting to take affect. The doctor started ordering all the nurses around. Eventually, I felt myself submerged into darkness. Not seeing anything but black and dead silence ringing through my ears.

One week later

I sat up slowly with the help of Nurse Lynn--whose real name is Carrey--helping me. I still haven't gotten over everything. Doctor Wesley saw nothing wrong with me. Well nothing major. I had a level two laceration to my liver which they had to keep an eye on.

"How are you feeling today?" She inquired.

I shrugged, "physically fine, but I'm bored."

"I think I can help with that," Doctor Wesley reflected with a couple books in his hands, "Do you like to read?"

I nodded, "Love too."

"Well how about Twilight? My daughter likes it. There's also another book, Wuthering heights." He offered.

"I'll take the Wuthering Heights," I murmured thankful, "I've read Twilight...its unreal and the writing is poor."

A small blond girl with pigtails came in abruptly. She had olive green eyes and a small frown was placed on her pink lips.

”Twilight is a great story;” She had to be around ten; “Edward and Bella are real.”

Doctor Wesley looked at the bold little girl with surprise, “Evelyn? What are you doing here? Where’s your brother?

“He left after he won the bet. I can’t believe you don’t like Twilight,” She was talking to me now, “Don’t you believe in vampires? My big brother doesn’t.”

“If you can prove it to me, then I’ll believe that vampires exist.” I bargained after a minute.

She looked excited, and then thought for a moment, “Where can I get vampires?”

“No idea,” I shrugged, “Maybe Walmart.”

Doctor Wesley chuckled, “Evelyn go stay with Miss Foster the secretary until your brother picks you up. I need to check Annabelle’s vitals and we have to sort out a few private issues.”

The girl with a head of blonde hair pursed her lips, “But he’s going to be gone for a while. He was being nice to another girl and brought her into the janitors closet saying they were going to look for the mop.”

“He what?!”

I heard chuckle in the hallway, but it was fading. Whoever it was was walking away.

”Just kidding. He told me to say that,” There was lingering confusion in her eyes, “What does it mean?”

”It means he wants to help the janitor clean,” I quickly answered seeing as Doctor Wesley looked at lost for words, “Go find your brother. You can come in after your Dad’s all done.”

”He’s not my Dad,” Evelyn pointed out, but obediently left the room.

Doctor Wesley stood beside the window checking his clip board. The walls were a bland white. The hospital sheets white, everything was white except the curtains. They were a pale green and white checkered. The entire room was dull in general. An IV was hooked up and the only sound was the steady beat of the heart monitor.

”Your vitals are looking good; the laceration to your liver is healing nicely. Other than that, you only have cuts and bruises. They weren’t serious enough for you to require stitches evidently. You’re going to be able to leave the hospital in a week—possibly less. Who will be discharging you? Will it be another family member perhaps?” He inquired.

I shook my head slowly, “I don’t have any relatives…my mom was an only child, and so was my dad. My grandparents have all died of old age, or they’re too old.”

”Did they entrust your care to a family friend?” He assumed, but in a questioning tone.

Again, I shook my head, “They didn’t write a will.”

“Then…” He looked reluctant to say it, “…Then you’ll be place in foster care.”

A nurse walked in and smiled politely at me before turning to Dr. Wesley, “I have a man claiming to be her father. Security has him because he apparently started yelling to see her.”

”My father…” My face paled, “My father is dead…”

“The paperwork says that the man who died with your mother was your step-father. What is your relations with your biological father?” The nurse questioned as she peered down at papers in her hand.

”He ditched my mom the second he found out she was pregnant,” I said flatly, “I want nothing to do with him.”

Doctor Wesley didn’t look interested in budging into family affairs, “Then it’s your choice. See your father and have him discharge you. You’d be under his care then. Or the alternate option is being placed into foster care until you are eighteen.”

“Is there any other way?” I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the flow of profanities that wanted to come out, “Can’t I just get a job, and live on my own?”

”You aren’t eighteen,” He pointed out, “You’re going to have to make up your mind quickly. You’re father doesn’t seem to be patient.”

Speaking of the devil; a man who I’ve never had the displeasure of meeting before strolled in unwanted. It was clear, I thought irritated, that he was my father. He had dark tousled hair and light blue eyes. I had gotten my eyes from him, but my hair was a few shades lighter brown. Not chocolate like his.

“Annabelle.” He breathed in as he stood in front of me for the first time in seventeen years, “I’m Henry…Your father” 

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