Shattering Pieces
Prologue
I was sitting on a soft cream couch. My head was down. I was staring at my hands. Across from me sat a stern but kind looking woman. I don't care to remember her name...
"So Daisuke how are you feeling today"? she asked, her voice was too nice to be true.
"Alive, doc" I say bitterly to her. She nods as she writes something down in my file. I look up at the clock in the corner of the room: 12:00 P.M. I have been sat here for almost half an hour. My friends must be eating lunch by now. I vaguely hope that they wonder why I am not at school today. I sigh and look at my therapist.
She moves a strand of her coal black hair away from her blue-gray eyes. Looking up at me she smiles tiredly. She then checks her watch. "Looks like our time is up for this week Daisuke. Please take your meds and call me if you need anything". She says, getting up from her office chair and opening up the door out of her office.
I nod at her as I grab my school bag. I get up slowly and leave quickly. When I step out of the building, I put on my mask of a happy-go-lucky kid and make my way back to school.
Once I arrive at my school I run down the halls to my next class. As I step into the classroom, I feel all those eyes, staring at me. I smile a goofy smile and hand my art teacher the note from my therapist. After reading it he nods and tells me to go to my seat. I make my way over to my desk and sit down. I get my notebook and pencil out of my bag and set them down onto my desk. I feel someone poke me. I turn to my left to see Takeru with a confused look on his face.
"Where have you been? You have missed most of the school day" He asks. I look into his kind blue eyes and just for a moment... I let my mask slip
"It doesn't matter Takeru, nothing does" I reply quickly. I panic as he frowns at my words and looks like he is about to ask me the dreaded 'what's wrong' question.
"Daisuke, Takeru pay attention"! Saved by teacher, now that's something new.
The day seemed to fly by after that encounter and before I knew it, it was time to go home. "Oh joy!," I thought bitterly. I decided to take my time walking home. Hell maybe I would even go to the park to prolong getting home. Ha! If that place can be called my home. No one knows but dad left us a year ago.
Since then, mom has stopped caring and started drinking. Big sis Jun moved out two months ago, saying she had all she could take. Leaving me to try to pick up the pieces. I have been trying to but nothing is easy. I learned that lesson between the ages of 6 and 10. Nobody seemed to care that four kids; many years older than me, liked to beat me and tell me that my life did not and never will matter.
Yeah. That led me to taking my dads razor to my wrists and my dad forcing me into therapy. Once I started going I was told I had major depression and PTSD and was given colorful pills to take, antidepressants. I sighed as I came out of my thoughts and saw the apartment building I live in, aka: my own personal hell. There was no use turning back now.
I make my way up the stairs to the third floor, door five. I dig the key out of my pocket and unlock the door. I brace myself. As soon as I open the door I have to duck because mom threw a wine bottle at my head. I tried to ignore her screaming voice as I closed the door and made my way to my room. I almost make it.
However, mom tackles me and slams my head into the floor. She screams about how it was my fault that dad left her. Ugh now I am seeing spots. Damn! I try to clear my hazy vision as I attempt to get her off of me. No such luck. She grabs something that is just out of my line of vision. "Shit!" I cry out in fear. Okay that something was definitely a knife. She had just stabbed me in my left arm.
Just after mom pulls the knife out of my bleeding arm, I manage to gather just enough strength to push her off of me. I dash to my room and shut and lock my bedroom door quickly. I hold my left arm and shake. I hear her beat at my bedroom door. Soon after she must have passed out. I finally let go of my left arm to take a look at the damage. "Fuck"! It is rather deep this time and I can tell that I need stitches. How am I going to hide this?
I am still shaking as I take my phone out of my pocket with my good arm. Looking through my list of contacts I think: Ken? No, he is busy with Miyako this week. Taichi? No, he has soccer practice. Yamato? No, he has a rehearsal with his band. That leaves only Hikari or Takeru... I can't let Hikari know about this, it will break her spirit. Fine then, Takeru it is. I press the call button gingerly. About three minutes of ringing repeatedly, Takeru finely picks up with a bored: "Hello"
"...sorry to bother you Takeru" I say apologetically. "This is Takeru leave a message after the beep." he finishes Oh it's the voice mail... "Um never mind it's not important" I say as I hang up.
I stare at my arm, it's still bleeding. I look around desperately for some way to get help... I spot some tissues on my computer desk and rush over. Grabbing one I hold it to my arm and wince as pain tingles through my arm. It quickly turns crimson red so I grab more and decide there is no choice. I have to go to the hospital myself. I make sure the blood is stemmed enough before I slowly open my door and see my mom sleeping soundly with a bottle in her hand. Oh, how I wished it didn't always end up like this.
It took me five minute to creep downstairs and grab the key to my bike lock, I twist it in the lock and push my bike outside with my good hand. I close the door gently, careful not to wake mom again. My arm feels weak and my head is spinning, but I know. I have to get to hospital. I clamber onto my bike and try to ride using just one hand, it proves difficult to say the least. I get to my drive before I fall over and scrape my knee, more blood... great!
I look up, terrified as I see Joe, what is he doing here! He turns and sees me and rushes over, oh great!
"What's wrong Daisuke?" he asks as I lay there, in pain "Nothing, I hurt myself when I was playing basketball" I reply, thinking of the only thing I can. Joe sighs "Come on, I'll take you to the hospital" Joe says with a smile. Lifting me up he walks me back to his car, when was the last time someone was this kind without wanting something from me in return? I fall into a light sleep as he drives to the hospital.
We get there and he takes me inside, sitting me down he walks over to the counter and explains the situation, the nurse nods and looks at me a few times. She knows something is up but since Joe was fighting my cause mom would be safe. Joe walks back and smiles "Hey, I can't stay but here is my number, call it when you are done and I'll drive you home, okay?" he says with a smile as he hands a slip of paper into my good hand. I pocket it with a smile. It's just a shame I don't want to go home.
It takes around ten minutes for a doctor to see me, and the entire time I waited for him I was in turmoil. What would I say, he wouldn't be as easy to convince as Joe. What could I do?
I have to think of something soon. I only have about five minutes left until the doctor comes to check up on me, I'm sat on an aquamarine examination bed, my nerves are wracking. The room is white and clean. In the corner there is a small 'L' shaped desk and a grey swivel chair sat at it. The fight or flight response is kicking in, my adrenaline is pumping.
I began to shake nervously as I think about my choices: Run away or stay around just long enough to get help for my injury. The latter is a much smarter choice. I try to calm myself down, I have to stay and get help but I have to protect mom at all costs! After all it is my fault that dad left us, not hers.
I start thinking rapidly, I need a believable lie. I don't think fast enough. The doctor walks in with a quizzical look in his eye as he reads my chart. He must be in his thirties. He is a redheaded foreigner, maybe of Greek origin? He has dark green eyes and a small spray of freckles across his face like a splatter of paint. No he's definitely Irish, that's just a tan.
He sets the chart down and walks over. He withdraws a solution and dabs it on to some type of wipe, it stings at it touches my skin but I've felt worse pain. After he's done wiping away the infection and the excess blood he turns to me. "I'm Doctor O'Grady, and your name is?" he asks as he motions for me to lie down. I do so and look at him, careful of what I do and say
"Daisuke" I say quickly. He withdraws a needle, its sharp! I move to leave but he realizes it's making me feel uneasy and picks out another one, this time he hides it from me as he walks over.
"You have nothing to be afraid of" he promises with a kind smile as he attaches the thread for stitching and sits down on the swivel chair, sliding over to my side.
He stitches me up from then on without speaking. The silence is eerie. He waits until he is finished and has disposed of the tools before he starts to speak again "So... care to tell me how a sixteen year old gets a stab wound like this?" he asks, curiously. I sit up and wince at the pain, he moves to check on me but I brush it off. I look sheepishly at the clean, tiled, white floor.
"I... I got into a fight... with some punk" I lie as quickly as I can.
I hear him sigh heavily as I stare at the floor "Look, Daisuke... I may just be a stupid random doctor to you. You may even think I'm gullible but that was a pretty weak lie" he explains. I flinch slightly at his words, I know what is coming, and mom is going to get locked away! I open by mouth to speak but he interrupts me"Don't get me wrong... I'm not going to report this to child services or anything like that. I can't do that without more proof even if I wanted to that is." He smiles, realising his words soothe me slightly but I simply put on my mask and look up at him
"Thanks Doc" I say happily, shaking his hand.
He nods to me as I get up and leave. He returns to his desk to fill out some paperwork. I walk out into the squeaky clean hallways. The walls are a pale yellow and the floor a murky blue. I walk down them quickly, following the directions to the main lobby.
As I arrive I sit down and think. I am glad he won't report mom, but he definitely wants to help – and those that want to help, can't. I sit there, mindlessly for a while, pondering my thoughts before I remember that I have to call Joe and have him take me back to my house. That is just fucking great! I sit and mull in my depression of the situation. I withdraw my phone and stare at the screen for awhile while I try to decide what to do. Do I call now or deal with my situation myself.
A/N: I didn't change to much of this prologue beside the formatting of it Hope you guys enjoyed.