traumatized minds, luke hemmings

sugar cookies.

[ Charlie Abbot,
Dr. Golden Blonde's Office, 10:35 AM ]

"Charlie?"

I snapped my eyes open and looked up over to see two adults standing awkwardly. I suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"Who are you?" I bluntly asked.

"Oh, um, my name is Dr. Clifford, and this is Dr. Hood. We're friends of Dr. Hemmings." They introduced themselves as I sat up from the futon couch. "We've been told to retrieve you. Your uncle would like to see you."

I scrunched up my face. I didn't want to see him, not one bit. Not after he willingly took drugs while a fifteen-year-old teenager slept in the room down the hallway from it. If I had another place to stay, I wouldn't have cared what could've happened to him.

Nonetheless, I stood. "Fine," I mumbled. The two very tall doctors led me down the hallway.

"My name is Michael, and that's Calum. We're doctors here. You're Charlie, right? I love your name." Michael compliments.

I grinned. "The one and only. Thank you, by the way."

As we approached the hospital room, I could sense my nerves bubbling. Before we even stepped foot into the room, they stopped. "We'll be right out here, come get us if you need us."

I pursed my lips and slowly nodded, taking a couple of steps into the hospital room. I looked at the bed and saw a gremlin-looking creature, my uncle.

He was sitting and eating pudding— more pudding in his beard than his mouth and looking happy as could be as where I would probably be traumatized for the rest of my life.

Nevertheless, I crossed my arms and cleared my throat. He looked at me.

"You almost died," I spat, seeing his eyebrows rise, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I swear, Charlie, I didn't mean to." He pleaded.

"You didn't mean to?" I shouted, "So the needle just inserted itself into your arm? Is that what happened? How stupid do you think I am? Well, guess what, dipshit, the paramedics saw the needle in your arm. What happened when they find out that you are a stone-cold drug addict asshole who takes care of his fifteen-year-old niece?" I whispered the last part, "where do I go? Where does strawberry go?"

His expression hardened.

"I am fifteen for Christ's sake!" I cried, "And dealing with a child trapped inside of a fifty-year-olds body."

I felt nerves bubble up inside of me now more than ever. He was angry, I could tell, but his ego could use a little crack.

"Get out," he rolled his eyes.

"Happily," I snarled and went to dig into his bag, snatching his wallet from the inside pocket and darting out of the room.

But as I was rushing down the hall, I collided with a chest— telling me this person was either a giant or tall. I groaned and rubbed my forehead.

"What are you running from?" A voice I recognized to be Dr. Hemmings. I shook my head and continued to dart my way out of the hospital.

I didn't want this to end up with me being forced inside his office again and locked away.

No way am I having someone like a doctor be stronger than me and lock me inside of a freakin' personal office.

So, once I was outside and in the fresh, cold air, I ran as far as my legs and adrenaline could take me.

[]

I twisted the lock on our apartment and pushed open the door, breathing in the paramedic smell that lingered inside. I took a deep breath and shut the door— hearing strawberry's footsteps rush down the hallway.