A/N: Hi guys, sorry for the huge delay. I've had a writer's block for a while now, so I hope this chapter is any good. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 2: Mad

It was early in the afternoon. Small beams of the sunshine cast through the roof of leaves that covered Aubrey's window mostly in the shade. She wished she could be outside to taste the sun, instead of the chemicals in this damned hospital. She had opened the window, so a small breeze was able to play with her hair.

She was sitting in a chair in front of the window. The doctors would probably put her in bed again if they saw that she had moved, just like they had done two times this day already. But sitting in front of this window, almost being able to taste the nature she had gotten used to, was the only thing that could calm her down and ease her thoughts.

In front of her, on the window frame, there was a tiny spot of sunlight visible where the sun could reach through the leaves. Slowly, she moved her hand to it, in an attempt to quench her thirst for sunlight. But just before she touched it, a voice startled her.

"Hi Miss Posen?" a tall woman with short hair walked towards her.

"I'm special agent Summers," she said, and she pointed to the brunette woman standing next to her, "and this is special agent Yellow."

She waited a moment for a response from the blonde. However, she didn't get any. Aubrey turned her body from the people talking to her to the window again, not even slightly interested in who those new people were and what they wanted from her.

"We are aware that you and your friends have stayed for a long time on the island and we're here to take your statement about what happened while you and your friends were there."

When there was still no response, she glanced over at her partner, who grabbed a small notepad from her bag.

"So, maybe you can first tell us what happened to Mr. Bumper Allen the night you got saved?" she tried. Her voice had a mean, impatient undertone.

Aubrey looked from the window to her hands, which were lying folded on her lap.

"As I said, she won't talk to anybody." Doctor Baker said who had also entered the room with the two cops. "You could maybe try later this week and start with the other girls."

"We will." Agent Summers sighed, audibly annoyed and paced out of the room.

Agent Yellow stayed a few seconds longer, looking at the broken girl in the bed. Her eyes met Aubrey's, and for a moment, she saw how broken the girl was.

"Yellow, you coming?" Agent Summers thundered from the hall.

"Yeah, I'll be right there."

Aubrey looked from her hands to the window frame again, but the spot of sunlight had gone. The whole window was covered in shadow.

Later that morning, Doctor Baker entered Chloe's room with another person in a white coat. Beca was sitting next to her on a chair. Beca had made a vow to herself. She would never leave the girl on her side alone again.

"Miss Beale, I'm here with doctor Huron, " Doctor Baker said. "We're here to discuss some medical issues with you."

Both girls nodded.

"This matter is rather personal, Miss Mitchell. It'd be better if you'd go to your room until we're finished with this."

"I want her to stay," Chloe said before Beca could respond. Beca's hand found Chloe's blindly. She smiled weakly at her. She was safe, and that was the only thing that mattered. Nothing that the doctor would say would hurt her more than she had been. The road from now on went uphill. Things would only become better from this point.

"Very well then."

The calmness of his voice almost made Chloe throw up. There was something wrong with her. Knowing this turned her stomach upside down.

"The night paramedics brought you, and your friends in here, we took blood samples from all of you to check for irregularities or maybe illnesses, like tropical diseases…" doctor Huron said.

"We found increased levels of certain hormones, and that's where I continued your examination. We…" Huron said, and she looked at Chloe, who looked terrified. Chloe, with her medical background, maybe had a vague idea where this was going, but she didn't let that thought inside her head. Beca, however, didn't have any clue what the doctor was talking about.

"We discovered you are pregnant." Doctor Huron said.

And with those five words, her world collapsed. Everything that had kept her sane, the ground she was standing on, crumbled away under her feet. She did not hear anything the doctors say after those five words. She did not understand the calming words Beca said to her. Her hands covered her ears to block out their murmurs and let out an ear piercing scream, which silenced everyone in that room.

"Miss Beale, we understand that you might be upset..." They started again.

"We're going to help you with this,"

"Chloe…"

"…there are many options you could consider at this point…"

"The baby is underfed, but besides that, the echo showed it's doing fine, so with the right..."

"You will get assigned to a psychiatrist…"

"Of course you can consider abortion…"

"Chloe."

"…who has specialized in these cases…"

"but you can also look at adoption homes who would love to take care of your baby…"

"Chloe." She suddenly hears Beca say her name. "Chloe, look at me."

The two doctors were silent for a moment.

"We'll get through this, Chloe. Together."

"Please never leave me alone again." She cried as she curled up in Beca's arms.

"I won't, Chloe."

Later that afternoon, Beca had been forced to leave Chloe's room. Doctors had assured her that Chloe would be taken care off, but despite those empty promises, Beca could not sit still. She walked from the bed to the window and back again, where she sat down for a few seconds, before standing up again. She wanted to go to Stacie too, and Aubrey, and Amy…

"Miss Mitchell, there is a family member that wants to visit you. I wanted to make sure you are okay with-…" Doctor Baker started, but he got interrupted.

"Bring them in," Beca said, almost impatiently. She sat down on her bed and looked at the door as the doctor went back to get the visitor from the hallway.

"She's ready for you sir." And with those words, a tall, dirty blonde male, a few years older than Beca busted through the door.

"Beca!" He cried out as he hugged her tightly.

His hug sent jolts of pain through her body. "Matthew, you're hurting me!"

"Oh my God!" The man immediately lets go of his little sister. Instead, his hands cupped both of her cheeks. He kissed her forehead quickly, his stubbles tickling her skin.

"I can't believe you're back…" he murmured, looking into her eyes. "I came as soon as I heard."

He looked at her as if he saw a ghost.

"How are you doing Beca?"

"I'm…" she hesitated. She had no idea how to answer this question. How was she? She was alive, so she answered: "I'm okay."

When Beca had left her room, Chloe had felt an emptiness fill the room and her heart. The nurse that had checked up on her a few seconds ago had left her room as well. She was completely alone again. Tears were burning in her eyes. She sat up on her bed and curled up her knees against her body. She thought about the little thing inside her stomach, that would grow to become a baby. But when she only thought of Bumper and Jesse, her stomach dropped as if it wanted to crush and suffocate the baby. She tried to erase the memory as she had done so many times on the island. But their evil grins were burned into her retina, even with her eyes closed.

She wanted Bumper's and Jesse's smiles to fade. In her thoughts, she traced the skin to her eyes with her fingers, letting them rest on her closed eyelids for one second. Her fingers strolled back from her neck to the valley between her breasts, towards her stomach. She would wriggle one, two… now three fingers inside her belly button. With a terrible ripping noise, she would never forget, she would pull on the skin below her fingers in the opposite direction, her skin tearing at the edge. She would cry out in pain as the dark red, almost black blood that gathered would pool over her stomach onto the white sheets she was laying on. Getting all eight fingers below the tear, she would pull harder now, causing even more, dark blood to drench her bed completely. She wouldn't care. That baby wouldn't have the same smile as them if she killed it.

The tear would be wide enough now to get her full hand inside her body. She would push her hand inside her stomach, pushing past her intestines, not caring if she damaged them or not. But she wouldn't be able to get deep enough. She would stand up and stumble towards the table on the other side of the room, where there were a bunch of pens and a pair of scissors gathered tidily in a cup. Taking the silver colored scissors first, she would collapse on the ground, her back resting against the white wall. She would wonder how much blood she would have lost, considering the bloody trail she would have left when she would have dragged her body across the ground.

Using the point of the scissors, she would stab herself in the wound she had created. She would stab herself again and again until her intestines became soup-like in structure. She would wonder why she hadn't passed out yet. And yet, there she would feel it: the small bubble in her stomach that contained her unborn child. There would be blood everywhere. Opening the handles of the scissor, she would cut out her uterus. With the bloody organ still in her hand, she would maybe take four… maybe five seconds break if she was lucky, as she panted heavily caused by the pain that would shoot through her body. With a yell, she would throw the organ across the room, against the opposing wall, leaving a bloody mark before it fell with a thud on the ground.

She would slam her hand against the pale white floor, splashing, even more, blood everywhere around her. Nurses would run inside the room, looking at what she had done to herself, but it would be too late.

"Chloe." A very familiar voice disturbed her thought. She looked to a girl in front of her, sitting on her bed. The girl had the same blue eyes and had her red hair tied tightly in a bun on the back of her head. If she had looked past that girl, she would have seen, one small boy and two girls, one older and one younger than she was were standing around her bed as well. Finally, she would see her father, the only blonde in the family, crying as he stood next to her mother.

"Hannah." She stated as if she wanted to prove she still knew her sister's name. Her voice broke, and she cried as she jumped into her arms, burying her face into the crook of her neck. Now, she felt many arms around her, taking her in a massive group hug to comfort her.

Everyone started talking at the same time, but all their words did not reach her ears. Her youngest brother climbed on top of her bed and sat himself down on his lap. Even though he was too young to understand what was happening, he still had missed his sister.

Later that afternoon, Stacie walked to the small bathroom at the other side of the room. She had heard about the families that visited their loved ones. She opened the door and walked inside. A pale white light cast over the tiled walls. Her fingers brushed those tiles as she walked towards the sink. In the mirror above the sink, she saw a person in the mirror that was supposed to be her, but she hadn't seen herself in so long. She tried to look closer, inspecting each detail of her face to discover if it indeed was her. Her fingers went through her hair, which had grown noticeably. Her hair was not soft but felt and looked like strands of rope attached to her head. Her eyebrows were in an odd shape, nothing like how they were before she had left. She did not recognize the darkness in her eyes. When her eyes had been light blue when she had left (or so she remembered), her eyes almost appeared black, just like the bags below her eyes. There were lines on her face she did not recognize. Small, light lines that appeared white in this pale light were painted on her lip and above her eyebrow. Another small scar was visible just above her cheekbone. More lines, but different ones painted across her tanned skin. Broad and faded ones, like warrior stripes. She traced them with her fingers, noticing her short nails in the mirror, which she had bitten off.

Nothing she saw in that mirror reminded her of the person she used to be. She locked the door of the bathroom and turned on the shower. Gently, she got rid of the hospital gown she was wearing and dropped it on the floor. Hesitantly at first, she stepped under the shower. When the water drenched her hair and let it fall around her head in wet strands, she sighed. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine it was the rain falling on her, but this felt nothing alike. She could not pretend this was the water from the river in their cave. Nothing would ever feel that way again. Everything had changed.

"Courage, dear heart." She whispered to herself. "Courage…"

She pulled her hand back and smashed the pale tiles in the shower with all force and anger she had had in her. The ceramics broke below her fist, and the sharp edges cut their way into the skin on her knuckles. She yelled out in agony as she punched the tiles again and again.

Someone was at the door. The door handle was pushed down so violently; it might as well be torn off.

"Stacie, open the door!"