Prologue:
"Dr Evans, h-how is she? What do the test results show?"
"Miss Levinstone, you were lucky to have found her when you did. If the wait to bring her in were longer then I can assure you her survival rate would have been most insignificant. The tests show she has multiple antidepressants and a significant amount of ethanol in her blood stream. As this is a sign of a young person attempting to take their own life, as you are aware we have no other option but to issue constant surveillance and extra therapy. I understand that as the patient's therapist you will continue your routine practices and procedures. Is that correct?"
"Yes that is correct"
"If you are willing would you mind making a formal statement we can show before the court? It's vary rare that we get cases like this now especially where the patient has no more existing family to make decisions on a suitable and justly fit care and rehabilitation plan"
"I'm sorry Dr Evans all due respect but I'm only here for personal commitments at this current time. If you want I will come back later to discuss the best way forward to ensure the girl's success rate is brought back up to speed for faction requirements"
"Very well then I will be back again once I've done my rounds to see if there's development in her condition"
"Thank you doctor"
As I reluctantly awoke indolently from my drug induced haze I could hear the obnoxious ticking of the clock, and the intimidating machinery surrounding me. Wires hung from slick, cold rods as the machine's lights flickered on and off with the turn of a knob. The plain white walls seemed to close in on me. Suffocating me. These walls told stories of broken hearts and wished upon dreams that were never to be seen again. Stories of the long departed I thought. The chair, placed close to my bed, drew my attention as its worn cushion exposed itself from underneath its dull blue top. As my eyes began to focus clearer, and get used to the stark hospital strip lights, I found one imperfection, a small chip in the paint on the ceiling above my stiff, scratchy hospital bed, which I already begin to loath. As I looked to my right, I saw doctors pacing back and forth but seemingly running in slow motion from the frosted floor to ceiling windows encasing me in this sterile cage. The staff walked around lifeless and un-human like with similar comparisons to that of robots. I saw pained expressions on the faces of visitors wondering past wearing only the colour of my faction. I must be in the Erudite treatment infirmary not the General hospital for minor cases open to all members of the public. That is when I notice the bindings of bandages on my skinny wrists and the numerous cuts and bruises with multiple hues, colours that look foreign and as if they could not belong on a person's skin. The first bruise, with garish purple splotches, lay elaborately just above the smaller, piercing cuts which are ordered in a perpendicular fashion. For reasons yet to be undiscovered I cannot comprehend what happened in order for me to be laying here in this miserable and soul depleting room. The presence of such animosity and self-hatred swim back to me again and I realise that my time in this place useless. What would I ever gain staying here? Being in the infirmary will not heal my weak, throbbing heart neither will it cure the torment I feel inside. As I lay my foggy head back on to the rough pillow, I allow my self to become absorbed once again in the chaos of my worthless life. The world would be a safer, more prosperous place if I simply did not exist, and for that cause, I would rather die than let others of my beloved faction try to motivate me to live when I am mostly likely the biggest risk to their own precious lives. And within that moment, a single tear was shed making a path to where it will finally fall and die amongst other non-existing things.
Moments passed and before any new revelations occurred until then I left myself to wonder about everything and anything relating to the possible reasons for my existence and the conclusion I came to were none. I have no reason for existing beyond the walls of the infirmary or anywhere in general. The weight of my familys murder has crushed my ability to continue on this road of life. Without them I cannot get anywhere in life. My family had a goal that we all strived to contribute towards and the research we gained jeopardized our chances of being able to help our society. That is why they were killed. They were killed because I let someone close to me get in the way and it is all my fault. I shouldn't of been spared that I am certain was a mistake on the masked figures part and I cannot forgive myself for what happened to them. If anyone out of all us that were to be spared, it should have been Jenna. She was bright beyond her years and had a great future ahead of her; she was always so helpful and had a great insight into the many subjects she studied about. Whenever I was worried, panicked or afraid of my many fears she understood me and knew how to comfort me. Every time I replay the course of events out in my head, I cannot understand how she was taken but not me. Without her, I am all alone and there was me stupid enough to think that we would both age together and be successful, well-respected members of the Erudite community much like our parents who also fell to their deaths that torturous day. I thought we could enjoy the pleasantries of initiation together and even have friendly competitions with each other to keep our motivation high but no. She is gone and I am left without the only person who really made my life truly worth living. My sadly departed sister is gone forever and I am the only one to blame.
For what seemed like hours later, I am greeted with my first sign of human contact since I awoke. Great! I think. Just what I need, someone to analyse me and degrade me to long words documented on report papers. What they should realise by now is that they have already wasted enough time on me. They should be using the medical equipment on someone else who is worth saving and has a purpose in life. Why try to save the life of someone who no longer has a reason to live or a desire to live anyway? Their attempts will be futile and no amount of rehabilitation or psychotherapy will change my mind. That is the only certainty I have left to hold onto now. As the frosted glass door opens with ease, a doctor of whom walks into the room with a plastered smile of assurance on her face makes her way over to my charts hanging on the rusted frame of my bed. I do not truly believe this woman intends on being good-natured towards me. As I am an Erudite faction member, she will most likely scold me for being foolish and ignorant as to believe popping pills and drowning my pain with the toxic warmth of alcohol will prove to be the most logical solution to my problems. But they are wrong. However, the next person to step through that door I did not expect. With her golden hair, swaying from side to side tied back into a slick ponytail and her eyes ablaze with urgent worry Kate rushes over to my bedside. Of course, Kate would come she's the only one who would care what happens to me. Mainly because that is what her job entails. Kate, who was my therapist first before she became one of my most trusted friends, is the only person I know I can confide in with confidence that she wont judge me or ridicule me. Like others whom I have wrongly placed my trust in have done before. However, the thought of seeing her here makes my heart break. I don't want anyone to see me like this. Especially her.
"Jeanine I-"Kate starts sincerely but never has a chance to finish before the doctor interrupts.
"How are you feeling Jeanine? My name is Dr Evans and I have been assigned to your case especially due to the… circumstances" Dr Evans chooses her words precisely like she's trying to paint the perfect picture out of the dire events that have led me to sat here in this cage of a room.
"I-"My throat is horse and my voice scratching at the surface of audible noticing. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I try to continue, searching for words that may seem to comprehend how I am feeling without telling the slightest truth.
"Do you want the reality or the vague misinterpretation of how I'm feeling?" I never even noticed how harsh my own voice sounded but whatever Dr Evans interpreted it as she was sure to note it down on the notes she held in front of her. I hated being observed. The feeling of someone constantly watching and judging your every movement and the decisions you made. At home my parents placed miniscule little cameras around the house which escaped my attention until the age of 10 years old and from there on I hated the thought of someone recording my actions to view as many times as they wished to see whether I was acting within normal behaviour for my faction. Nevertheless, those peculiar recording devices provided ample evidence to prove what had happened to my family was far from fiction. In fact, they may have saved my life.
Unfortunately.
"I want the truth Ms. Matthews. Despite your reluctance at the moment to cooperate, I want to help you. I know you probably think that you don't deserve the help we are offering you but you've been given a second chance to correct your undoings so you must take it" Dr Evans walked closer, her heels clicking against the lino flooring her well manicured hands clasped in front of her holding her clipboard. If only I could read what tales, she has made up about me, why she thinks I'm here in the first place. If only I could get her to leave me alone, so I can be left unmonitored… Permanently.
An upsurge of anger rises in me as I try to fight the drugs in my system that they have used to keep placid. "You have no idea how I'm feeling!" I choke out "I don't want your help! I don't want your pleasantries and acts of kindness! Your right I know I don't deserve whatever miracle you think you can work on me but the point is I am beyond saving! You should have saved my sister instead of wasting your efforts in a person whose only wish is to die!" Tears roll steadily now down the surface of my coarse skin. All I wanted right now was to hide from the judgement of the world, this woman, the doctor standing before me with her soft olive skin and mysterious ebony hair that gleamed in the hospital strip lights. Curling myself into a ball of comfort and escape, I bring my legs up into my aching chest and nestle my head into them. My uncontrollable outcry has left me dying for breath and a mixture of screaming in vexation and heavy heaving overwhelm me. All the while, I feel Kate's hand rest on my shoulder.
From the sound of heels retreating away from me, I hear the doctor's stone cold voice from within my inner turmoil. "Very well" She announces "You have won this time" and the glass door clicks shut.