Addicted #wattys2016

Preface

I walked in the hospital room not knowing what I was going to get myself into. My case was this young girl who seemed broken, but yet so smart so intelligent. The door popped as it slowly creaked open. I silently gasped as I saw her. The bruises on her face, neck, chest and arms. The small holes all over her arms where she would inject herself with drugs. The dried blood on her forearms where she had brutally punished herself, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. 

"Blair," I began.

She looked at me with red and light purple, puffy, bloodshot eyes. Her hands tied to the sides of the bed. She looked to me as she said,

"Don't talk to me! I don't even want to be here. This is fucking hell."

"I know, I know. That's why I'm here so you can go home."

"Home? Home. Where is home?! Huh? Because it's definitely not my bullshit of a home if that's what you are referring to."

"We will find you a good home. I promise."

"I don't want a new home! Don't you get it!? I want to live with Parker again."

"We'll see, we'll see. However I need your story. From the beginning. Okay?"

She continued to be silent.
"Well..." I said breaking the silence. "Maybe I can share some stuff about myself? My name is Azalea Johnston, I'm 21 years old. I am a undercover cop and an investigator. I love helping people. I've done it all my life. And that's why I'm here... To help you."

Blair looked at her hands realizing that no matter what she said, no matter what she tried to do, she was stuck. I guess that's how she felt since day one. Stuck.

"Alright, I'll tell you, but I'm not going to sugar coat it."

She said. Then she paused thinking, about where to begin.

"I guess it began on September 1 the first day of junior year...."