Arabelle Lock (GirlxGirl)

Chapter 11

Well hello there! As you can see, this chapter is much longer than usual. I was going to cut it in half and make it two chapters, but then I was all like “Nahhh, I'll give them the whole thing because I ruv them!”
SO YEAH
Dedicated to TheSlyWolfRachel for being neighborly ^.^

Picture to the right is Jenna, the girl you meet in this chapter ~> 

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Arabelle's POV

I wake up for the second time that day to a pounding headache in my skull. I flinch slightly as I open my eyes to a bright white room, with Mom and Dad talking to a doctor at my bedside. Blinking away the fog in my eyes, I decide to remain quiet, listening to their conversation. I close my eyes to keep up the sleeping facade in case they look at me.

“No Doctor, we would never hurt Arabelle! I don't know where those bruises came from, but they certainly weren't inflicted by us. We'll get to the bottom of this when she wakes up. If someone is hurting my daughter, they will not get away with it,” I hear Dad promise grimly. Aw fuck, they saw the bruises... How am I going to explain that?

“Well Mr. Lock, we'll have to talk to Arabelle when she wakes up. Of course the initial worry would be that someone hurt her, but given the current situation, I'm afraid the bruises might be... self-inflicted. If you say she has a history of getting panic attacks, then it's very much a possibility. It's not uncommon for someone who deals with anxiety and panic to resort to self harm,” the doctor sighs.

“What?” my mom gasps. “Self... harm? Really? How could she... Why...” I hear her choke up, muffling a sob.

“It's okay Mrs. Lock, we just need to talk to Arabelle. Which we can begin now, I see. She seems to be very much awake. I open my eyes, giving the doctor a guilty smile as he frowns down on me. Hm, guess he doesn't like it when patients pretend to be asleep. “Since you've been listening to our conversation Arabelle, I don't need to catch you up on my concerns. Can you please tell us how you acquired those bruises?”
I bite my lip as my parents stare at me in concern, waiting for an answer. My mom is still choking down tears, and Dad just looks worried. “I... um, I did it to myself,” I finally admit quietly, twisting the white sheets in between my fingers. Mom begins to cry openly, throwing herself into my arms and hugging me tightly.

“Oh sweetie... I don't know why you do this, but there has to be a reason. Whatever that reason is, we're going to get through it as a family, and we're going to support you, you hear me?” she sobs into my shoulder. Her touch burns mildly, but not that bad. I hug her back hesitantly, trying awkwardly to comfort her somehow. The doctor clears his throat beside us.

“Well, since you passed out because of a panic attack, there's nothing physically wrong with you at the moment. But because of your self injurious behavior and obvious anxiety, I'm going to strongly recommend seeing a psychologist. From there, he or she can decide whether or not you need to be put on an anti-anxiety medication. Mr and Mrs. Lock, is it okay with you if Arabelle sees a therapist. Mom and Dad share a look before mutually nodding.

“Yes, we think that she could benefit from that,” my Dad agrees.

After doing some paperwork and signing off at the front desk, the three of us leave the hospital and climb into the family car. Driving back is awkward and silent. All I can think about as I stare out the car window, is my promise of telling them everything. No more secrets. Just the thought makes my stomach twist painfully and my heart beat faster. Can I really tell them everything? The idea of coming clean, spilling everything, sharing my burden, is exhausting. A familiar urge to run away from my problems rises inside of me, reminding me that I can always opt for the coward's way out. Who needs to tell them now? Why not tomorrow? Or the day after?