It's Not What It Looks Like (Recently Completed)

Chapter - 6

Colette

I groan as I try to sit up from the couch. It's been a week since I was discharged from the hospital yet my body still hurts everywhere. I read somewhere that in a few countries, patients are made to stay in the hospital until physical therapy starts and not sent home as soon as they are bandaged up. Even though I hate hospitals and the chemical smell, I would have preferred staying in the hospital for a few more days especially since they would have given me some painkillers.

My punishment for seeking help didn't stop with broken ribs and a fractured leg. How can a few punches and kicks teach me a lesson? No. That would be easy. Father said before taking away the prescribed painkillers leaving me to suffer in pain with every breath I breathe. The maids are instructed to leave my food on the floor so I have to bend down to pick up the tray which is impossible with my broken body.

On the first day, I couldn't move a muscle so I stayed on the bed just praying that someone could show me some mercy and help me out. Like always my prayers went unheard. When I went for nearly 36 hours without food or water and realized that I won't be getting any help, I slowly moved to the edge of the bed. With one hand on the bedside table and another on the bed, I slowly slide out of the bed and onto the floor. Pain shot through my body with every movement yet somehow I somehow made it to the floor. I laid there for a few minutes staring at the beautiful ceiling thinking about Zach.

I have been constantly thinking about him because I only have a few good memories and the time spent with Zach was most of them. I think about the days we cuddled in his couch watching a movie or the stories he would say about his mom, his sister and little niece and nephew. I imagined myself being a part of that family. I remember his mother's kind looks when she spoke to me at the hospital. I wished they stayed a little longer in the hospital. It felt good seeing them. Seeing that someone was there who cared about me to come and see me in the hospital even though I knew that they came only to diffuse the media outcry. I fooled myself saying they came because they cared. At this point only these foolish assumptions and partial memories where my painkillers and I really needed them.

After laying on the floor for what felt like a few hours which only was a couple of minutes, I dragged my body on the floor with the help of my hands and one good leg and reached the tray of food. As I took the bite of the cold sandwich, tears rolled down my cheeks and I broke down for the first time since I was admitted in the hospital. I hate my mom and dad. I hate they left me here to suffer. What did I ever do to be bestowed with such a fate? Why wasn't I given a normal childhood or a family like other people? Why do I have to suffer all this pain? When will it ever stop?
Is there even a stop?

I cried my heart out for a while and ones the tears dried up and my pity party was over, I ate all the food. I dragged myself back to the bed but it was so high up that I couldn't pull myself back on the bed. Since then I have made a makeshift bed on the couch which is much easier to drag myself around the room.

It's almost dinner time when I hear the doorknob turn. I expect a maid but it's Father holding the food tray. I swallow the uneasiness that comes every time he is around and try to stand up.

"Relax, sweetie. I just came to see how you are doing", he says trying to sound caring but failing terribly.

"I am getting better", I say hesitantly. My recovery has been terribly slow since I am not taking any pills to aid my body.

"I thought we would back to shape by now. But, looks like you need few more weeks", he says circling the couch like an animal hunting it's prey.

I don't say anything because I feel like I need a few years to recover and saying that will only get me more punishment.