Adopted by Hamilton

Chapter 114 - What Happened Sweetheart?

I sat in the backseat of Lin's car, he was driving and Vanessa was in the passenger seat. I was somewhat curled up, I had my legs curled underneath me, I didn't care if it was unsafe. I just didn't care anymore

A cop car was following us home, they still needed to talk to Lin, but, he had convinced the officer they could do that at home, and had also convinced him that they could talk to me later.

I had fallen abnormally quiet. I wasn't crying, and I wasn't talking, for once in my life, I was accepting what was going on around me. Accepting what had become my life. The car stopped in front of Lin's apartment, and I got out, swinging on the backpack. As soon as I got the backpack on, Lin slid it off my shoulders.

"It's okay, I got it." He said, and I looked up to see him swing it on. "You don't have to do anything ever again." He wrapped his arm around my waist, and started walking over to the elevator. We made it up to our apartment, and Lin unlocked the door, "Niñita, can you go lay down? I have to talk with the cop for just a couple minutes. I'll be in soon." He hugged me, and I smiled my response and made my way back to my bedroom, where I laid down on top of my bed.

I could hear bits and pieces of their conversation, until I couldn't keep my eyes open or mind running and I fell asleep.

•••

"Wake up, sweetie wake up. It's morning!" I felt a hand on my waist, shaking me, I woke up, and my mind immediately went to Luke, I quickly flipped over.

"Please don't!" I held my hands in front of my face. I slowly lowered them when I realized I was in my own bed, and I had just yelled at Lin, not Luke. "I'm sorry." I said quietly, turning back over.

"No, it's okay, it's okay," he said, "just," he put his hand on my shoulder and turned me back over. "Talk to us." He said, to no response from me. "Okay." He sighed, "come here." He picked me up in a hug, then slipped his arms under my knees, and lifted me up.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, as he walked over to my door, and down the hallway. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

"What?" He asked, walking into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry." I repeated softly.

"Sorry for what?" He asked, setting me down on the counter, and opening the fridge

"I'm sorry I'm anorexic. I'm sorry I'm awkward. I'm sorry I'm an accident waiting to happen. I'm sorry I'm depressed. I'm sorry I hate myself. I'm sorry I'm suicidal." I was yelling. I shouldn't be yelling.

"Shh." He said, closing the fridge, "I'm sorry too." He said, and I looked back at him confused.

"Sorry for what?" I asked.

"I'm sorry you're anorexic, I'm sorry you're depressed, I'm sorry you're suicidal." He said.

"But that's not your fault." I said.

"And it's yours?" He asked, "listen, anorexia, that's not just not wanting to eat, that's an eating disorder, it's not your fault, it's not something you can easily control." He said, "depression is a mental illness, that's not your fault. None of this is your fault." He picked me up off of the counter, and took my hand, leading me into the living room.

"Okay." I whispered.

"Now, what happened sweetheart?" He asked, sitting down.