Chapter 17
Ella's P.O.V:
Through the glass window separating the doctor and me from Kane, I could see the way his eyes darted to mine nervously when I sucked in a breath to stop the pain as the doctor put some sort of gel on my arm. I could see the confusement in the doctors eyes as he stared at the wound. I tried to avoid his eyes as much as possible so I didn't have to face the questioning glances.
When he's done he wrapped my arm in a strange but comfortably cooling bandage. He pinned the end and told me to be careful and come back to see him in a week. He took a quick blood sample, promising me its hospital procedure and then he allowed me to go back to Kane.
When we get to the waiting room, we as in the doctor and I, Kane jumped up and pulled me into a hug making sure not to touch my bandaged arm. I hugged him back and buried my head in the crook of his neck to breathe in his strange and very good smelling scent. He smelled like cinnamon. I heaved a satisfied sigh and heard him chuckle in amusement.
"Smell something you like?" he asked with a laugh. I relunctantly pulled back and frowned making sure to take a last deep breath of his cinnamon smell before smacking his shoulder and turning to face the doctor. I reached into my back pocket for my last few dollars, hoping it would be enough but Kane stopped me by taking my hand in his.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a golden credit card. He handed it to the doctor and I looked on in horror as the doctor tooo the card.
"No, Kane. I can't let you..." I started but he cut me off by putting his finger on my lips and smirking when I blushed.
"I insist," he smirked at my frowning face.
"Kane, really I can..."
"Ella?
"No, I can't..."
"It's okay," he says with a sort of finality in his voice. Realizing I'm not going to win I sighed and nodded at the doctor who walked off to subtract the money from Kane's account.
"Thank you," I said with a small smile. I wasn't talking about the money, I meant for everything else he did. He drove me to a hospital in the middle of the night and listened to me cry like a preschooler.
"But don't think I won't repay you, someday." I finished with a laugh. He rolled his eyes at my stubbornness, but nodded in surrender. I grinned victoriously when the doctor came back and handed Kane his card. We thanked the doctor and walked out.
Kane walked me over to a bench outside the hospital and we sat down. I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. Readying myself, again, to answer some very difficult questions. I let out the breath and faced Kane.
"You have questions." It wasn't a question. It was permission for him to ask his questions. He nodded his head and took a moment to collect his thoughts.
"Why don't you say anything?" he asked. I had prepared myself for that.
"If I report him he would go to prison. I have enough evidence." I say with a forced laugh looking down at the clothes that hid my bruises, "Which would mean social services would take Mony and me and throw us into the system. Who would want to foster a seventeen year old?" Another forced laugh, "I'm turning eighteen in a few months. I'll adopt Mony and we'll get away from him, forever." Kane took in the new information before asking his next question.
"Does Mony know?"
"No, and she must never find out." I told him quickly. I looked down and saw my clenched fists. I felt my nails digging into the soft skin on my hands and welcomed the distraction. Kane edged his hand toward mine ever so slightly, until I could feel his fingertips brushing against my clenched fist.
"Why do you do that?" he asked.
"It keeps the memories away." I confessed softly. He gently pried my hand open and entwined his fingers with mine. I could feel the heat of his palm seep into me and I relaxed as the fear and anger that the memories always brings melted away.
"But it hurts you," he continued while looking at my face. He looked so intently, so deeply, like he was searching for something that was impossible to find.
"I know," I replied while looking down at our entwined hands. My face was hot and red. I knew I was blushing.
"How long has he been hurting you?" There it is. The question I dreaded, but I promised him I would be honest so I took a deep breath and answered.
YOU ARE READING
Internal cry
Teen Fiction"How long has he been hurting you?" There it is. The question I dreaded, but I promised him I would be honest, so I took a deep breath and answered. "Seven years." I didn't look at him. I waited for him to pull his hand away, to hit me, to say I was...
