A/N: Can we picture Ellie as a younger version of the wonderful Shailene Woodley? Yeah? Perfect!

My head spins, and my eyes can't seem to focus in place. My throat is dry, my wrists aching. Looking down at my wrists, I see bandages, blood soaked through. Even though it hurts to move, I reach to take it off, but a hand stops me. He startled me, and he has a small kind smile on his face. I shake my head, trying to remember what happened.

"Wha-" I choke out, my voice cracking.

He still doesn't say anything, just pulls something out of his pocket and presses it to my hand, and I stare at it. Smiling, I put it back on my ear, a habit that has developed over the years.

Suddenly, the world seems to come back. The low hum of machines, the occasional beeping, and his smile seems to grow. "Can you hear me now?" He asks slowly, trying to be polite, and it surprises me. Most people, well, they make a be deal about it, but he seems calm.

I can only force myself to nod, letting my eyes fall back into the bandages around my wrists. I'm itching to get them off. They're doing nothing but annoying me.

"Good. I brought you some food and water," He tells me, handing me a cold cup of water, and I press it to my lips, dying to feel the cold liquid on my sore throat. "Small sips. You must be confused, Ellie. But it's alright. I'm here to help you."

"How can I trust you if I don't even know your name?" I ask, remembering the stupid rule that my mom always told me. Don't trust somebody if they don't tell you their name.

"Dr. Harmond," He answers, the smile falling off his face. "Ellie, I need to ask you some questions. They're very important, and I need you do be honest with me. Okay?"

"Depends on what they are." I tell him before diving into the bowl of Cheerios.

"They... Uh, they're personal questions," He says, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Of course. "Not about you. They're mostly about your family."

"Look, I'm only 14 years old. I don't know everything for our insurance by memory. Go ask my mom," I tell him coldly, loosing my appitite. "She'll have it all under control for you in a second."

"Ellie, that's the problem," Dr. Harmond says softly, and I look away from him. Whatever happened, I don't want to hear it. I should be at home now, taking care of my uncle and putting my younger brother to bed or waking him up for school. "I can't contact your mother."

"What? Why?" I ask, my throat tightening the way it does when I get nervous or when something bad has happened.

"Ellie..."

"Just tell me!" I shout, anger and fear creeping into my veins. I don't know why I'm here, and two seconds ago I was acting like everything was fine, but now reality has seeped in. I'm in pain, and I don't know why. My mom isn't here like she should be. She knows that I can't do this by myself. My mom... The person who is supposed to help me with this kind of stuff, but she's never been here for me. Why would things change now? She just simply wasn't made to take care of other people, and that's okay. I'd just wish she tries harder.

"First I need you to promise that you won't tell anybody else, alright? And I'll show you."

"I... I p-promise." I stutter, trying to read his face, hoping it'll lead me to an answer of what he'll show me. It isn't good judging by the look on his face, worry lines on his forhead as he looks at me.

"Another thing you need to know," Dr. Harmond tells me, looking at the paperwork on his clipboard. "You can't walk without crutches, your knee, uh... It just needs some time to heal, okay?"

"Whatever." I grumble, swinging my legs over the edge as Dr. Harmony watches me carefully, as if he expects me for fall any second. Ignoring him, I get to my feet slowly. Pain shoots up my leg, but I ignore it. Count to five. Is what my dad always told me. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Taking deep breath, I take a careful step forward and bite my lip to stop myself for crying out in pain. I don't want to see weak. Not now, at least.

"Need help?" He asks, his light brown hair falling into his eyes. He reaches out for me slightly as I stumble, but I catch myself.

"No," I tell him, digging my nails into my palms, and taking another deep breath. "I can do this. I'm not glass. I don't break as easily."

He starts to say something, but I cut him off, growing impatient with him. "What did you want to show me?" I ask, feeling proud of myself for the moment. "Something about my mom, right?"

His face becomes more serious than it was before, if that is possible and he nods, walking out of the room, leaving it up to me to catch up with him. He's waiting right outside my door, leaning against the wall. "Are you sure you don't want crutches? They'll help a lot. Give 'em a try for me."

Sighing, I take them from him, and mutter a quick thank you. He starts to walk down the hallway again, and I still struggle to keep up with him. "They take some time to get used to, so don't get angry with them." He tells me, and I don't listen to him, still upset when I loose my grip on the handle.

He stops suddenly, throwing open a door, and I'm greeted by a burst of cold air. "I'll get in trouble if they find out, but you're strong enough to handle this. I know you are."

"I didn't know hospitals still had the morgue inside them." I tell him, and he just rolls his eyes at me as he stares at his clipboard again.

"We're not like most hospitals."

"Yeah, I can see that. But I've always wanted to see a cadaver."

"Hmm, really? Better take Human Anatomy when you get to high school, then. That way you can see all the stuff that intrests teenagers in that class." Dr. Harmond says, making his way across the room, where all the doors are.

Cool, I think. Dead bodies.

He pulls one open slowly, and then looks at me, giving me a small smile. "Get over here," He says, his voice now quiet, and I grow serious again. My curiosity makes me seem childish, according to my mom. "It won't bite, I promise." He tells me when he sees me hesitating.

"You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat." I tell him, even though I start to make my way towards him, putting most of my body weight on the crutches, tired of holding myself up.

"And satisfaction brought it back. You'll want to see this or you won't believe what I'm about to tell you."

"It's just a dead body," I tell him, but it's to convince myself that it can not be that bad. What's the worst it can be? "Not my mom."

"Ellie, that's the thing. Your mom isn't here anymore. She's dead." He doesn't look at me, and I still stare at my feet, my gaze slowly moving to the table, and eventually land on the sheet.

My mom can't be under there. She's not just gone, no matter how mad I was at her before. I can't lose her, I don't know what I would do without her. "No. She's not gone." I reach out to pull the sheet back, and there's a sudden rush of emotions. Anger and confusion. Fear and sadness as I stare at the lifeless face of my mom.

"I'm not lying to you, Ellie..." Dr. Harmond tells me. "But now you'll believe me. Your uncle is unstable, but I'm aware that you already knew that."

"I did." I answer with clenched teeth as I look at my mom. Moms aren't supossed to leave their kids. So why did she leave me?

"Your neighbors say you are very close to your uncle."

"I am."

"Then you understand that he finally... Snapped. And on your mother and your brother... I can show him to you if you want."

"No," I say stiffly. Austin is gone too? "I want to see my uncle." I tell Dr. Harmond, closing my eyes. I can't cry over my mom. Or Austin. My dad says that crying makes you weak, not because you're expressing yourself but becaus then people know how to hurt you."

"Your uncle is very unstable. It isn't a good idea that you see him."

"Why not?" I demand, anger taking over the confusion and sadness. "He's my uncle, I have a right to see him! And you're locking him up anyways, so why does it matter?"

"Trust me on this. He already left you enough scars."