Eighteen Going on Dead

Chapter Seventeen: Defeated Rage

Red, trembling, bruised and probably broken... my hand was cold as ice by time Gabriel and I went home, actually we were in his home nurturing to my self-inflicted injury. "I'm fine," I winced when he barely laid a finger on my wrist.

"Obviously you're not." Gabriel sighed heavily and scratched his forehead. "We gotta take you to the clinic, they'll wrap it up for you."

"No, I'm fine. I can put some ice of it and wrap it up myself." I hated hospitals more than I hated school, it was ridiculous on how I would become nauseous when I see a needle.

"It's broken, you can't even move your wrist without being in pain. Come on, we're going." It was a demand, fierce and stern with a hint of worry. "We'll figure everything out while we're there, but you're in pain."

I cradled my hand, I could still feel it pounding on the thick wood over and over again. So much rage, I didn't know I could hold such a thing for so long. The side of my hand was starting to turn purple as it throbbed violently to the point I was a minute away from crying. "Okay, just....Did you call the cops?"

"Of course, I used one of my old burner phones. Considering the FBI is here and all, don't want them tracing back to us."

I nod my head in agreement before standing to my feet, my phone binged several time in my back pocket; I hope it's not Aunt Joyce. Unfortunately, I couldn't focus on that at the moment, my self-inflicted actions was occupying my mind- along with the unsolved case.

****

The doctor (Millers) stood before me, his fingers was placed under my hand- a gentle touch that made me wince every time he moved- as he examined the bruise closely. "It's definitely a fracture." He simple said while placing my hand down the most gentle way as possible. "We would have to do x-rays to make sure tho, maybe call your aunt to sign off on some paper work."

"Can't I do it, I'm eighteen and have my insurance card." I suggested, even though Aunt Joyce is off my back this would make her suspicious and get back on.

Doctor Miller saw my plea as nothing more than a simple command from a juvenile. He looked towards the closed door where Gabriel was probably passing back and forth in the hall and turned back to me with a small comforting smile. Taking a deep breath, the older man dat down in his stool and adjusted his thin glasses that made him look like a hipster- his long hair and stubble didn't help. "Is that your boyfriend out there?"

I nod my head in confirmation.

"Is there a backstory to how you received that wound?"

Oh no, I know where he's going with this. A girl shows up after sundown with a broken hand and her worried partner by her side, obviously both of them looks flushed and seem as if they swallowed a frog. "I was angry, so I started to punch stuff." That's the simple and most general way to put it.

"Why were you angry?"

What is this, therapy?!... I wanted to scream out at him, but refrained not to if I wanted to get out of here without Aunt Joyce coming along. She's gonna find out anyway, I just don't want her in the clinic with me; judging me, or blaming Gabriel for god knows what. Her views on the biker boy were like any other parents, she just tries to push them down like horrible tasting soup. "I found two bodies in the past two weeks, I witness my best friend commit suicide, and I'm not passing history."

Doctor Miller certainly wasn't expecting my unique teen drama, he probably heard it all; from teen pregnancy to a need of a seductive to reduce stress. I needed more than a seductive, I needed a solution... Justice, no medication could give me that. He pulled out his prescription pad and wrote down an order for pain medication and a fracture brace. "Go to the pharmacy across the street, give them this and if you have anymore pain, come back."