Saving Amy (7 page)

“Look, I need to leave for a little while but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Thank you for opening up to me, Amy.” I had to mentally fight with my arm to stop it reaching out for him and pulling him back. I didn’t want to be alone. For the first time in my life I wanted somebody – I
needed
somebody. I needed
him.
“And I’ll make sure you have no visitors until I get back okay?”

I nodded gratefully. For the first time in my miserable existence I felt like someone had my back. Whether it was born out of professionalism or genuine compassion didn’t really matter – someone cared.

After giving me a courteous nod he picked up his pace into a sprint and was out the door in a flash, making me assume he had been called to some sort of emergency.

There was a white foldout TV by my bed. I swung it around and hovered my index finger above the numerous buttons along the right hand side until I found the power switch. Once it was on, I left it on the first channel I came to. I didn’t particularly want to watch anything - I was simply hoping some background noise would drown out my thoughts. Maury Povich managed to do just that and I drifted off listening to the why’s and woes of a woman whose husband had been sleeping with her sister.

“Miss Hope, your father is here to see you, dear,” a round, elderly receptionist with snow-white hair and thick-rimmed glasses informed me in a heavy southern accent. My body froze and all traces of moisture evaporated from my mouth.

I thought I could trust him.

“Amelia, thank god. Your mother and I have been so worried about you,” my dad said, bursting into the room and looking every bit the loving father. The receptionist turned to leave and instinctively I closed my eyes and held my breath because I didn’t know what was coming.

“I thought I said no visitors!” My eyes were startled open. It was Richard and he was chastising the old lady with his eyes.

“But it’s just her father…”

“That’ll be all, Mrs Andrews.” He was back in Bossy Doctor mode and he gestured his hand for her to leave. She did as she was told and I was rather impressed with his obvious authority.

I was sat just inches away from my dad and he had so many reasons to want to punish me right now… but I didn’t have an ounce of fear inside me. I was also just inches away from Richard, and for some inexplicable reason I felt completely protected in his company.

“I’m glad you’re here, Doctor. How’s my little girl doing?” His voice nauseated my stomach.

“She’s doing well, sir. Though she’s not out of the woods yet. We still have observations to make and she needs further MRI scans on her spine to ensure the swelling is subsiding. In fact I have some tests to carry out just now so maybe you would like to come back later?”

“That’s quite alright. I will stay with her while you carry out whatever you need to do.”

No. Please…

“I’m sorry, Mr Hope but I really can’t allow that. You will need to wait outside at the very least.”

“That’s ridiculous. I am her father!”

“Mr Hope,” Richard addressed sternly and I was intrigued to see how he was going to get rid of him. Because I knew he would. I trusted him. “Your daughter has sustained significant injuries to her spine and to put it bluntly, she is in a state of undress under that gown. Now, I’m sure you wouldn’t wish her the embarrassment of having her father watch while I examine her, would you?”

Ooo he’s good.

My dad’s face crumpled in irritation. He’d been backed into a corner and had no reasonable justification for putting up a fight unless he wanted to come across as a complete pervert.

“Of course. But I would like a moment alone with her before you get started.”

Shit.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to start now. I have a lot of patients to see today. I’m sure you understand. I suggest you go home and I will call you later on with her progress.”

My dad’s cheeks were visibly burning with frustration as he smoothed his moustache with his tense fingers. He was angry. I would have to pay for that soon…

“Fine,” he snapped. “Although I think this is totally unnecessary and if I don’t get some time alone with my daughter today I will be taking this further. Have you any idea how worried I have been?”

Richard straightened his back and shoved his hands in his pockets looking altogether… bored. He wasn’t going to back down and both he and my dad knew it.

“Do you have children, Doctor Lewis?”

“No, sir,” Richard replied, his voice becoming exasperated.

“No. Exactly. You’re clearly not a parent, otherwise you wouldn’t deny me this precious time with her.”

I couldn’t bear to look at him until he’d finished his little show. Though credit where it’s due – he had definitely honed his acting skills. For a fleeting moment I almost believed he care. Okay, I didn’t – but jeez he put on a good performance.

Before he left my dad bent down and kissed my forehead with his slimy lips, and the razor-sharp hairs of his thick black moustache felt like they were trying to pierce my flesh. My heart ceased to beat and my skin felt like it was frantically trying to crawl away from my body. When he pulled away his eyes were wide – promising. He was warning me.

Seconds later he was gone and I could breathe again. My gasping lungs relished every gulp of air and I clamped my plastered arm to my chest, cherishing the thrum of my heart beating again. I knew I couldn’t avoid him forever – but it felt like the only way I was managing to stay alive was to focus on the present. And for now… he was gone.

**********

Nine days passed too quickly and apart from the cast on my wrist I was all healed – physically at least. My dad had visited several times, keeping up the pretence that he gave a shit. Thankfully Richard had never ventured further than the opposite side of my side-room door in his presence – something that my dad was quite clearly aware of given the fact I had no fresh injuries. I didn’t quite understand why he was looking out for me. The feeling was overwhelming and undoubtedly undeserved.

Still, his reasons were irrelevant. I was just so tremendously grateful to him.

Julie came by yesterday with a punnet of grapes and a box full of guilt. I knew it wasn’t intentional and I should be flattered by how worried she was, but people (well…
person
) feeling bad for me was just too much to deal with right now; I was doing a good enough job of that myself.

She asked what had been going on with me lately, cried a little, waffled on about being such a bad friend to me for not noticing, cried a little more… To be honest it was just frustrating. As far as Julie was concerned I got drunk and fell, yet she babbled on like I’d been struggling alone to come to terms with a terminal cancer diagnosis.

Maybe that would be easier…

It was almost lunchtime and yet my bowl of untouched cereal and curdled milk was still sitting on the wheeled table at the foot of my bed, churning my stomach. My heart was rapidly gaining weight and crushing my insides a little more each day – knowing that each hour that passed was one step closer to going home.

At least that meant no more daily visits from Joanna Interfering Shrink Lady. I was getting sick to my stomach with her. She suggested I was depressed and tried several times to get me to agree to a course of antidepressants. What a load of bullshit. I wasn’t depressed. It wasn’t a simple little chemical imbalance temporarily distorting my view of the world. A box of pills wasn’t going to calm my dad’s twitchy fists. They weren’t going to heal the scars on my legs and they weren’t going to repair the damage done to my mind.

Still, I eventually agreed just to get her off my case. Though I had no intentions of taking them.

A knock on the door snatched me out of my episode of self-pity and I sat up sharply, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My anxious face instantly melted into a smile when I saw Richard coming towards me Pulling up the visitor’s chair, he sat down beside me.

“You didn’t get these from me,” he whispered, winking and slipping a pack of cigarettes under my pillow.

Yesterday was a
bad
day. I felt physically crushed by unyielding feelings of frustration…
anger,
fear, guilt… and I threw quite a spectacular tantrum about having not smoked for almost two weeks.

I smiled bashfully as he slid his hand from under my pillow.

“Look, Amy… I really am going to have to discharge you soon. I’m running out of reasons to keep you here.” His serious face erased my smile and despite knowing his words were inevitable they still managed to tie a knot around my heart. “Please reconsider accepting some form of support,” he continued, almost pleaded – his voice dripping with what sounded like concern.

I shook my head defiantly.

I had coped for this long and I could do it again. Besides, with nothing better to do than stare at these drab walls for nine days I had occupied myself by making plans. I was going to keep my head down at home and find a job. I didn’t care what or how much it paid – I would do anything and live anywhere. I crashed straight through the stone at rock bottom the night I ended up in here so surely the only way was up?

“I’ll be fine, Richard.” I was comfortable saying his name now. “I’ve got plans.”

I looked up to study his delectable face and his brow was furrowed. He was vigorously rubbing his left forearm with his tense right hand and he looked like he was frustrated.
With me?
Why? His reaction puzzled me and I snapped.

“Look, you’ve done your bit now. You’ve fixed me up – made me better. Why are you so bothered what happens to me?”

His emerald eyes widened. He looked surprised – maybe even a little pissed. After pausing for a few long seconds he dragged in a deep, preparing breath and opened his mouth to speak. His eyes burrowed intently into mine. My heart began to stutter as if I was expecting to hear something magical.

“I’m your doctor. It’s my duty to care,” he finally responded. The words twisted around my heart, crushing it. I think it would have hurt less if he’d kicked me in the stomach.

What did you want him to say? That he loves you? Stupid bitch,
my sarcastic, pain in the ass subconscious piped up.

I had foolishly conceived some kind of bond between
us and reality
had just punched me in the face. He was my doctor and I was his patient… period. My cheeks burnt with embarrassment and suddenly I was eager to escape – desperate to leave this dreary room and desperate to leave
him
and the nonsensical fascination I’d developed behind.

**********

It was early evening and I could hear my dad’s voice outside my room – he was here to pick me up. I refused to succumb to the fear beginning to simmer deep in my belly so I stretched my neck, defiantly held my head up high and reached for the door.

He was standing in front of me flattering a receptionist.

“Let’s get you home,” he said tenderly, under the glare of his sadistic eyes.

The timid red-haired clerk thrust some papers in front of me and I signed them without bothering to read what they were. I hadn’t seen Richard since this morning and despite telling myself that was a good thing, I still found my eyes wondering the corridor in search of him.

As we exited the hospital I scanned the grounds of the building one last time. I sighed disappointedly. He may well only be my doctor but surely a goodbye wasn’t beyond his code of
duty
?

“Get in,” my dad ordered, snapping my eyes from their unsuccessful search. Reluctantly, I clambered in to the back seat of his silver Jag, stuffed the bag of meds I had no plans to take into my belongings bag and then rested my head against the window, closing my eyes.

The engine vibrated through the glass, tickling my cheek and momentarily making me forget where I was and
who
I was with. I was pulled back into reality when the car halted with a jolt. We were here. I was…
home.

My dad got out first and marched straight to the house without so much as a glance in my direction. I climbed out hesitantly – my back still a little tender – and trailed tautly behind him.

Walking into the regrettably familiar atmosphere slammed into my body like a brick wall the second I crossed the threshold. My mom was stood timidly in the doorway of the living room, knotting her trembling fingers. I could tell she was about an hour away from the vomiting stage. My dad shoved past her, making his way to the kitchen.

“Amelia,” she greeted in a foreign tone. Bizarrely she sounded like she was actually pleased to see me. “Are you okay?”

I was stunned into silence by the sound of her voice and I realised it was the first time she’d spoken to me in what must be years.

“I’m fine,” I eventually managed to mutter. My dad re-emerged and clicked his fingers at her before pointing into the living room like a master over his dog, to which she dutifully obeyed. He followed after her and I began the process of dragging my heavy legs up the stairs to seek solace in my bedroom. When I reached it I threw my clear ‘Patient Belongings’ bag to the floor and climbed into bed, pulling the covers straight over my head.

Tears began to sting as they leaked from the corners of my eyes. Soon enough they were flowing freely and settling into a pool in the crook of my neck. The pain in my chest was excruciating. I could feel my heart begin to swell. My lungs felt crushed by the weight of it – struggling to fill with air. It was so painful – as if it was about to burst. I needed to get it out. Release the pressure. I needed to
see
it.