Glass Walls

Chapter 12

I woke up the next morning in a hospital bed. The police took me here to be treated for my injuries. Turns out I sprained my left wrist and rolled my ankle. I was also supposed to talk to a councilor today about my traumatic experience. I peeled a band aid off of my arm. I'm fine with band aids, just not being covered in them. I had five on one arm alone.
The door opens and a nurse walks in.
"Olivia your therapy session is now. If you'll come with me."
                            ***
During that whole session I paid little attention. The councilor's questions didn't really help me 'get over it'. They released me from the hospital but scheduled me for more therapy sessions. For now I'm staying with my grandmother a town over.
I love her, she's a sweet lady don't get me wrong, but it's a drag going to her house. There's nothing to do and the whole house is floral print everything. It drives me nuts.
She picked me up from the hospital and I went home to pack my things.
Once everything was in my suitcase and other bags, grandma was ready to take me to my temporary home. My phone rings just as I step out of the door. I've never see this number before but I answer anyway.
"Hello?" I say.

"Miss Olivia Mason?"
Some woman is on the line.

"Yes that's me."

"I'm sorry to call on such short notice and so soon after you've been released, but we need you to come to the station to sort things out. Please come as soon as possible if you can make it." she says.

"Okkkk. I suppose I could swing by now." I say unsure of what would happen. After I end the call I inform grandma of the conversation I just had. I'd rather be talking to police than going to her flower house. No offense. Did I mention I hate the flowers?

I'm immediately escorted to a small poorly lit room with only a metal table and two chairs to fill it. A lady is there waiting for me. I sit across from her.

"We need to know exactly what happened. Any odd behavior that occurred before the event would be taken into account."
I tell her everything. Mostly everything. Dad's obsession, him flipping out on me, the talking to himself at night, what caused him to chase me, everything. Everything except the body. That is something they can never know.
She took notes, a lot of notes. Then she asks me a question.
"Do you want to press charges and do you think your dad is safe to live with?"

This alone could probably affect dad's
entire life. I try not to hesitate but I also try not to answer too quickly.

"No I would not like to press charges."
The next set of words that come out of my mouth feel like a knife in my father's back. I never thought I'd suggest something like this.
"But what I do believe is my father should be put in a mental institution so he can get himself under control. I would like to live with my dad but not while he's crazy."
Crazy. The word is like venom. The woman takes notes on my statement. There's no turning back. I can never take back what I've just said. Will they tell him what I said?
I feel ashamed but it's for the better. I leave the building and walk to grandma's gray minivan. She pulls out of the parking lot and a journey to a new life begins.