Saving Amy (6 page)

“No. Please don’t call him,” I called after him once his words has sunken in.

“Amy, I’ve assured you I won’t breach your patient confidentiality. I just need to let him know you’re awake, that’s all. He’s very worried about you.”

Like hell he is.

“Please? Not yet. I-I
know
you’ll have to do it eventually but please just give me some time. I beg you,
please
,” I muttered, turning into a stuttering mess.

“Is there something you need to tell me, Amy?”

My heart sank into the depths of my stomach. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to scream and shout what a sadistic bastard my father was so he would keep him away from me. I attempted to speak but my mouth was so dry the words stuck to my lips. Then a rogue tear escaped and trailed miserably down my cheek when I realised no one could keep him away from me. He was my father…

“No, I just don’t want to see him yet.” I watched the doctor’s face intently. He was doing the questioning eyebrow thing and I knew he didn’t believe me.

“Okay. Well, I need you to rest for me now. I’m going to bleep Joanna and arrange a visit from her this afternoon. I’ll be back shortly to check on you, but for now…
sleep
.” He was so bossy. If he wasn’t so goddamn good looking I was pretty sure I’d hate him.

I stared after him as he left the room and closed the heavy yellow door behind him. I was insatiably tired so I closed my eyes. For some incomprehensible reason I seemed to trust the dishy doctor and I drifted into a peaceful sleep in the knowledge I wouldn’t wake up to the sight – or
force
– of my dad.

“
A
my?” I felt a gentle nudge on my right shoulder. It stirred
me and my eyes peeled open
. It was the ridiculously handsome doctor and a tall blonde woman – late twenties, early thirties maybe – with flawless porcelain skin and a figure that belonged on the red carpet. This sure as hell wasn’t the place for someone with self-esteem issues.

“This is Joanna Spencer; the lady we talked about this morning.” He proffered his hand towards the movie-star woman as he introduced her. I nodded but I couldn’t find the right muscles in my face to smile. Thrusting my clenched fists into the too-firm mattress I tried to heave myself up into a sitting position but an engulfing shooting pain radiated from my lower back making me cry out as I was sent crashing back down. A strong, protective arm was beneath me, holding me up before I hit the mattress.

The shock – or the pain – made me dizzy and when I’d composed myself I was in the doctor’s arms, our faces just inches apart. The proximity sent an unnerving, delicious current through my veins; not dissimilar to the effects of heroin and I wondered if perhaps there was some lingering in my system. Too soon, the woman was against my other side and between them they hitched me a little higher up the bed, creating a makeshift hoist with the crook of their elbows under my armpits.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Richard – or should it be Doctor Lewis now I was in hospital – said with a reassuring hand on my shoulder. That inexplicable charge resurfaced at his touch and I wondered if it was the after effects of the come down.

His words disappointed me more than they should. I nodded in response but I didn’t want him to leave. I only felt safe when he was with me and that in
itself
made me feel stupid.

“My name is Joanna. I believe Richard has told you a little bit about me,” she said as she pulled the green plastic visitor’s chair by my bed a little closer and lowered herself onto it. I nodded in acknowledgement but the uncomfortable
silence which followed
made me think she was expecting me to say something.

“Would you like to start?” she asked me, finally breaking the deafening silence. I shook my head. Seemingly I had turned into an utter imbecile and couldn’t find two words to string together. “Well, do you mind if I ask you some questions? You don’t have to answer anything you feel uncomfortable with.”

I nodded,
again.
She must have thought I was completely backwards. The whole atmosphere felt very unnatural. I couldn’t decide if she genuinely wanted to help or if she was just an interfering do-gooder. It didn’t matter either way – nobody
could
help.

“Do you remember what happened before you were admitted to us?” And so it began…

“A little. I assume you’ve been told I’d taken something. I guess I just overdid it and lost my balance.” At last I had regained the ability to speak – even if not truthfully.

“You say you took something… was that the first time?” I shook my head and found myself staring unseeingly at the metal guardrail at the foot of my bed. I was too ashamed to make eye contact and my fingers were starting to ache from knotting themselves together so tightly. “Can I ask what it is you’ve been taking?”

Like you don’t know…
I felt like she was trying to humiliate me by forcing me to say it aloud.

“Heroin,” I muttered under my breath as I stared down at my knees.

“So, you’ve been taking it for a while?” she assumed ever so calmly, without a hint of judgement in her voice.

“No, that was the first time. I thought you just meant in general. I’ve dabbled with cocaine before.” Holy shit, the shame was crushing me. My cheeks were on the verge of setting alight and I could feel beads of sweat dripping furiously down the back of my neck.

“So what do you think made you want to take the step up to heroin?”

Um…
I’d had enough of my dad beating seven shades of shit out of me. I’d had enough of ripping my thighs to pieces in an effort to distract myself from a greater pain that I have no control over. I’d had enough of looking into my mom’s eyes and seeing the pitch-black pool of regret bubbling behind them. I’d had enough of being treated, and acting, like a cheap slut just to feel wanted for a few brief minutes…
I fell silent.

“Peer pressure perhaps?” she continued. “If it’s something your circle of friends are into then it can be all to easy to feel like you need to follow
suit
.” I shook my head.

“No. Nobody else even knows. I don’t have a lot of friends. I didn’t do it to ‘fit in’, or for attention if that’s what you think.”

“I don’t think anything. I’m here to find out what
you
think. You can trust me, Amelia.” But I didn’t.

I was almost eighteen years old. I’d had doctors appointments before, teacher conferences, hospital admissions, home-visits from a healthcare worker over my hip-dysplasia as a small child… no one else had ever been able to help me. Nobody had ever even noticed I might
need
help. No one else had ever been able to see through my seemingly pillar of the community, doting father.

Why would this shrink be any different?

“Maybe we should talk about something else. The scars on your legs… did you do those to yourself?” I wondered idly if it was compulsory to have a degree in patronisation in order to work here. There was no denying her question. It was blatantly fucking obvious. I was embarrassed and frustrated and I wanted her to leave. “Is there something that triggers you to do that?”

“I’m really tired. I’d like to go to sleep now,” I said, still refusing eye contact. She sighed and I could tell she was disappointed that she didn’t manage to drag more dirt of me.

“Okay. I’d like to come and see you again tomorrow. Are you okay with that?”

No.

I nodded passively. I doubted she’d give up on me without a condescending lecture and I was too drained to listen to her anymore.

**********

I woke up to the sound of more beeps and rustling papers.

“Good morning, Amy. Did you manage to get some sleep?” It was
him
- t
he deliciously annoying doctor.

“Guess I must’ve done if you’re back already.” I wondered if he’d even been home. I had no idea what time it was – or even what day it was – but I eventually decided he must have been because he was wearing a white shirt and purple pinstripe tie today.

“I should let you know I called your father last night before I left.”

“What! You said you wouldn’t. You said you couldn’t without my consent. You said-” He cut me off and started talking over me.

“I have only told him that you’re awake and that your vitals are picking up. I said you were still very groggy and that we needed to carry out some observations before you could accept visitors. He asked me to call him again this morning,” he said in a sorrowful tone – guilty almost. “He is going to expect to see you at some point.”

My heart plummeted and tears burned the back of my eyes. It was starting. I had almost forgotten that I wasn’t supposed to be here but the ache to escape was now tearing through me with vigorous speed once again. I simply nodded. He was right. I
would
have to see him.

I’m not supposed to be here…

“How did your chat with Joanna go yesterday?” He was calling it a
chat.
Interrogation more like
.

“I don’t like her.” I shrugged sulkily and I knew I was behaving like a child. I swear I caught a glimpse of a smirk on his face.

“Do you think she can help you with your habit?”

“I don’t need help,” I protested. “I’m not addicted to anything. I was just dabbling; being stupid,” I tacked on, assuming by ‘habit’ he meant drugs. There went the eyebrow again, but he let it go… for now. His eyes seemed strained – heavy… like he had something more pressing on his mind.

“What about your father? Did you talk about him?”

I shook my head and refused eye contact. I knew he thought the shrink could help me and I felt like I’d let him down by not even trying.

“Amy, can I ask why you don’t want to see your father?”

Shit, a direct question. I wasn’t expecting it and my heart began to race and my throat felt swollen. Instinctively I wanted to run – run far away and never look back… but my legs were still unwilling to move.

“He’s not a good man,” I admitted out loud for the first time in my life. Remarkably he didn’t raise a doubtful eyebrow. Could he
actually
believe me?

“Not good, how?” he asked cautiously as he lowered himself down onto the edge of my bed – much less formal than the visitor’s chair. I opened my mouth but the words were lodged in my throat. “You can trust me,” he said as he rested a gentle palm on my forearm. It sent that bewildering current coursing through my veins and I idly wondered if he had some kind of supernatural power. Either that or I was going crazy. Well… crazy-
er.

I didn’t know why but I believed him. I
did
trust him.

“I’m not sure where to start,” I admitted, deflated.

“How about the beginning…”

I drew in a deep, shaky breath and rubbed my sweaty palms on the bed sheets.

“Well, my earliest memory is watching him beat the living shit out of my mom.” He scooched a little nearer and arched his back slightly towards me. He was listening. Actually
hearing
me. The honesty was unsettling yet ever so liberating. “He beats me too. He always has. When I was young it was if I didn’t tidy my toys away. As I got older maybe I’d forget to clean the dishes or take the trash out, or even just look at him in the wrong way. Now, he doesn’t need an excuse. If he’s had a bad day… I have to pay for it.”

Christ this felt good. It felt like I could go on forever.

“I note from your records you were admitted to us a couple of weeks ago with severe bruising and a fracture to your ribs. Was your father responsible for those injuries?” he asked a little too formally for my liking. Then he gently squeezed my trembling hand – encouraging me to continue. I simply nodded and without warning a stream of tears washed over my face. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

I shook my head and snorted in my tears.

“No. Never. Nobody would believe me anyway. I mean look at him – he’s a rich, high-flying lawyer with friends and contacts in all the right places. He sets a very good impression as I’m sure you saw last night.” His face twisted into that serious, pursed-eyebrows look. I still thought he believed me. The feeling was overwhelming and only succeeded in making my tears fall faster.

“That’s not true. I believe you for one. There are so many people that can help you, Amy. You don’t need to suffer this alone anymore.”

“No. I’m not telling anybody else. You mustn’t either. Promise me?
Please…
”

“You have to understand what kind of position this puts me in. If I suspect you’re in danger…”

“Please, Richard,” I begged, grabbing hold of his arm. His name just fell out of my mouth and I hoped I hadn’t overstepped the mark. His eyes momentarily widened as if taken aback by my informality. I decided pleading ignorance was the best policy and carried on as if nothing had happened. “
Please…
”

He sighed heavily.

“You have my word. Like I said, you can trust me. I
want
you to trust me. I would like you to consider it though. What about your mother? Maybe you could confide in her, and she in you?” he suggested obliviously.

“She already knows. She’s too wasted to care most of the time.” Something vibrated in the pocket of his black suit-trousers, interrupting me. It was his pager. He looked at it and sighed, running his now tense fingers through his just-got-out-of-bed hair. He seemed frustrated and I knew he had to go. My heart sank. How ridiculous was that?