While reading, please be aware of the PG-13 rating. This story deals with heavy topics such as abuse (physical, mental, sexual), alcoholism, and drug use.
* I DO NOT OWN THE CHICAGO P.D. CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN THE STORY LINE THAT I HAVE CREATED*
Thank you for sticking with me! Here's a nice long chapter for you guys!
6 Days Later
Robbie-
Most people wouldn't consider Mondays as party days. For those people, parties are typically reserved for Fridays and Saturdays. Those people do not, and have never included my parents. To prove this point, they crank the stereo to a minimum of 30, and shove a crinkled ten-dollar bill into my hand, sending me out to get chips, which I know won't be touched while their friends are over.
I sit up in my room, the door solidly blocked with a chair from the kitchen, with an open bag of chips from last week's party. My math textbook is poised on a pillow, a notebook on my lap. Downstairs, I can hear the party just beginning, with the few friends that my mother and father genuinely like arriving.
Working out another problem, I push the bag of chips away, licking the burning salt off my lips. My head is pounding and my stomach is growling from the lack of actual nutrients that my body is desperately lacking.
There is a bang downstairs, followed by a slur of swears, and I flinch. I sit completely still, waiting for someone to bust down my makeshift barricade, but no one ever comes. When a minute passes, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
This is the worst part about their parties: the fear that I will be seen. That concept has been engrained in my head since I was old enough to walk: children are not to be seen nor heard. It amazes me how people like Anthony are so loud and obnoxious and constantly begging for attention. In my house, that can get you killed.
Another crash resounds through the rickety house (which, by the way, I am sure is going to fall apart at any moment), followed by a blood curdling, "ROBERTA!"
My heart leaps into my throat, and for a moment, I think about leaving the house right now; just climbing out my window and running to the nearest bus station, hoping that the small shelter is enough to keep me warm through the night. But then, the thought of what could happen when I come back, late, the thought quickly leaves my mind. I crawl out from underneath my blanket, and walk carefully over to my door. I pull the chair away from the handle, and enter the hallway. The laughing has resumed, but I still creep down the stairs.
I sneak through the back entrance of the kitchen, peering around the door frame. There is a shattered vodka bottle on the kitchen floor, and the remnants of white powder covering the countertop. I hear someone shout my name again, and I turn around, heading to the living room.
They are lounging around on the couch, the table in front of it covered in alcohol bottles and many tiny bags cluttered over the surface. My mother is leaning back against my father, smoke curling from the cigarette in her mouth. "What?" she spits, catching the attention of the other three in the room. My father grunts, wiping underneath his nose.
My voice stutters, "Um…. Y-you called m-me?" My palms are sweating, and my heart pounds under the stares of the adults.
The blank look on Mom's face shows me just how foggy her mind is. She pushes herself up off the couch, and staggers over to me. She bends down, her breath making my throat tighten, and the little wisps of hair tickle my forehead. "I what?"
I take a step back, "Nothing, I'll go back upstairs. "
Starting to turn back around, I'm stopped. "Roberta, get over here." I take a shaky breath, but turn, and walk over to him. The front of his shirt is stained with God knows what, and his body odor resembles that of a wild animal. When I get within arm's length, he grips my shoulder tightly. I struggle to keep a neutral face. "Do you want to try that again?"
My mind races, trying to come up with an acceptable response. "Yes, sir?"
His hand comes from his side, and slaps me across the face. Laughter erupts from the audience in the room. "I think you owe your mother an apology for speaking to her that way." I try to turn around to apologize to her, but his grip tightens so much that I shrink to one side, reducing my yelp to a whimper. "Try again." I look at his fiery eyes, and try to move his grip off my shoulder, but instead, his slap turns to a punch. "Wrong answer." And then another. And another.
The Next Day
My entire body aches. It throbs and pain cruises up my spine. Groaning, I turn over on my side, slowly realizing that I am in my bed. The light streams through the torn part of the shade, and I attempt to shield my face, but with the flash of pain, I put it down.
I don't remember much about last night; just that I went downstairs and…. Now I'm here. My parents are silent, and I stifle a cry of pain as I sit up in bed, catching my reflection in the mirror. My left cheek is a mosaic of black and blue, an undertone of green around the outside. There is a small cut right above my collar bone, and underneath my shirt, I know that there are many more bruises yet to be seen. One thing is for certain, though. There is no way I can go to school today.
Erin-
She's not here. That's the first thing I notice when I walk into the fifth-grade classroom Tuesday morning. The seat in the back of the room is empty, with no sign of Robbie in the entire school.
Much to my dismay, last week's introduction to Jay did not go as planned. I wanted Robbie to open up to both of us, not just build her already high walls, even higher. After we left, Jay agreed with me, though. Something is going on with Robbie, we just need to put a finger on it.
After a long class of continuous glares from Anthony, I am glad when the bell finally rings. I watch as the students exit, thankful to have one more class under my belt. As I put my final folder into my bag, Mrs. Johannsen starts towards the door, but I hurry to catch up to her.
"Mrs. Johannsen! Can I talk to you for a second?" She pauses just as her foot is about to cross over into the hallway.
"Of course, Detective! What can I do for you?" The teacher sits down on top of the desk.
I follow her lead, and lean up against one of the chairs. "I was wondering what you can tell me about Robbie."
She nods sadly. "And I was wondering when you were going to ask about her." Despite the situation, I laugh.
"Is it that obvious?" Her looks confirm that it is. "Anything you can tell me would be great, I'm just worried about her, that's all."
Mrs. Johannsen looks down at her clasped hands. "She is absent quite frequently," she starts, refusing to look me in the eye. My heart starts beating faster. It's about time we got somewhere. "And, sometimes, she comes in with bruises." I try not to glare at her, but it is so hard not to. I grew up with teachers that didn't care enough to say anything, and look where I ended up before Hank took me in. I don't want that to happen to Robbie.
"And have you done anything about that?"
She bites the corner of her lip. "I made a report at the beginning of the year. The principal said she would send it to DCFS, but I don't know if she ever did." Mrs. Johannsen takes a moment, and then says, "You think there is something going on with her parents, don't you?"
I scratch the spot where my neck meets my head, "Mrs. Johannsen, all I know is that something isn't settling with me right, and I need to check it out," she nods in agreement. "Would you be able to give me her home address so I can go check on her, just to make sure?"
The teacher looks into the hallway, before hurrying over to her computer. She lifts the top, and types in a few things before coming with an address: 558 Harrison Ave.
It takes me a minimum ten minutes to drive to the other side of town. I contemplate putting my sirens on, but then decide against it, seeing how I don't even know what kind of situation I am walking in to. When I pull up to the address, I am shocked at how disheveled the house looks. There is siding missing, and most the roof isn't covered with shingles. The grass is overgrown, and the only spot that seems to affected by a human presence is a small spot underneath a first-floor window. The blinds are open, and from my car, I can see a flash of movement from inside the house. Good enough for me.
I lock my car, and walk up to the house, flipping my phone in my hand as I do so. When I get closer to the door, I look back into the window, and see the small girl sitting on her bed, an ice pack pressed against her cheek. I knock lightly on the door. In a moment of seconds, the door cracks open. Through the part of the door that can be open with the chain lock on it, I can see one eye widen, and the door closes again. I hear the rattle of the chain, and before I know it, Robbie is standing outside with me.
My mouth drops open. The left side of her face is unrecognizable under the swelling and bruises, and a cut on her collar bone has dried blood around it. The worst part about her appearance, though, is the fury in her eyes.
"What are you doing here?!" She half whispers – half shouts at me, crossing her arms protectively over her chest, while looking back at the house. Robbie doesn't give me a chance to answer, before she says, "You need to leave, like, now." The once shy fifth grader is gone, and has now been replaced with a defensive girl who is acting much older than her actual age.
"Robbie, what happened?" My voice cracks, and tears threaten to spill out of my eyes, but I know that if I cry, I might as well lose all hope in finding anything out.
She looks back at the house, and suddenly grabs my hand. She pulls me through the long grass until we are at the side of the house, in between a strip of woods and the wall. "You need to leave. Now." My mouth parts as I try to find the right words to say to her, but they don't come. "It's one thing for you to stalk me at school, and it's another thing for you to bring your…your friend to come interrogate me! But you cannot come to my house! You. Need. To. Leave. Me. Alone!"
Robbie tries to go around me to get back in the house, but I side step in front of her, blocking her path. "Sweetie, you need to tell me who did this to you."
"No. I. Don't." That line is so familiar with me, I almost wonder if it was me who said it since I've said it so many times before: to my teachers, to the police, to Hank. "But you need to leave!"
I shake my head. "Not until I know who did this to you." Robbie looks between me and the house, mentally figuring out how she will be able to cross the yard without me stopping her, but none of her approaches will work; I know this game far too well. "And please do not try and tell me that you walked into a door, because we both know that is not the case."
She runs her tongue over her lips, "It was Anthony."
My eyebrows crunch together, "The boy from your class?"
The girl shifts her weight from foot to foot, "Mhmm." She doesn't look me in the eye, automatically telling me she is lying.
"Robbie, regardless of who did this to you, we need to bring you to the hospital."
She full out laughs, "That's hilarious!"
I grow serious, "I'm glad you think that this is funny, but I wasn't joking."
Her expression matches mine, "You can't make me."
"Robbie, we are either going to the hospital, or I will bring you into the station for truancy and your parents can come pick you up. Your choice." I know I might be exaggerating a little about the truancy charge, but this girl needs to be checked out by a doctor.
She doesn't know what to say. "I don't want to go to the hospital."
"Robbie, I understand that you are scared, but I will have you know that I am friends with one of the doctors and-"
"-Great, more of your friends."
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Kiddo, please. I just want to make sure you are alright." She shakes her head in disbelief, running her hand through her hair.
"The doctor can look at my face. That's it."
The drive to Chicago Med is long and silent, with Robbie sitting in the back of the car silently, her head pressed against the cool window. She is running the pad of her thumbs over her fingers, her leg bouncing up and down. I don't bother to try and make conversation, knowing that if I start asking her questions, she will shut down even more than she already has.
I put the car in park, and unbuckle my seat belt. Robbie does the same, and quickly exits the car, not bothering to wait for me. I have to run to catch up with her, and even then, she stares straight ahead, walking straight through the emergency room doors.
"Robbie," I reach out and gently touch her shoulder, but she flinches away. My heart sinks.
"Don't touch me."
I hold my hands up in surrender. "Robbie, my friend, Dr. Halstead is Jay's brother. He's a doctor here."
She rolls her eyes, "Is this whole city in cahoots with eachother?"
It's funny how true her statement is. "Come on." I lead her over to the nurses' station, "Hey Maggie, is Will around?" With one look at Robbie, who is franticly looking around at the hustle and bustle of the hospital, she gestures to the opposite end of the desk, where Jay's brother is leaning over a computer dressed in maroon scrubs.
I bend down in front of Robbie, "I will be there with you the entire time. You can trust Will, I promise."
We go over to the opposite side of the emergency room, but before I can say anything, Will notices us. "Hey, Erin, what's going on?" I don't have to answer, for he looks down at the girl standing off to the side, flinching every time someone passes her. "You must be Robbie."
Robbie glares at me, "You already told him about me?"
Again, Will beats me to it. "Robbie, you came here a few years ago. I treated you for a pretty deep cut on your arm. Do you remember?"
The flash of realization that crosses her face confirms that she does, but she doesn't say anything besides, "Let's get this over with." Without any permission, she goes over to one of the beds and sits down, crossing her arms over her chest.
Will turns to me, "You found her."
"That I did."
The examination is uneventful. Robbie sits on the bed with a stoic expression plastered on her face, the right side of her mouth twitching in pain every time Will pushes on a tender area. She refuses to look either one of us in the eye. Finally, Will tells us there isn't anything broken, and there are no signs of a concussion, but she should still take it easy over the next few days. Robbie stands gratefully, mumbling that she will meet me in the car.
I watch sadly as she weaves through the ER and out the automatic doors. Will looks at me with a defeated face. "Those bruises are from being hit, Erin."
I bite my lip, "Yeah, I know."
"With one more blow to her head, she would not be conscious right now, Erin. That kid is in serious danger."
"I know," I say again.
He runs a hand through his short hair. "You need to get her out of whatever hell she is living in. Can't you just take her out of the house?"
"Even if I did, she would deny everything. She's not admitting to anything, Will. She doesn't trust me."
"Then make her trust you. Show her that she isn't alone in this."
I smile sadly to myself, before an idea pops into my head, "Will, you're a genius. Thank you!" He looks stunned, but I run out of the emergency room, and towards the parking lot, where I see Robbie leaning up against the side of my car.
"Can I go home now?" She asks.
I shrug, "How would you like to have dinner with me and my father?"
I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please don't forget to review, favorite, and follow the story! Next Chapter: Robbie meets Hank and it's going to get personal.
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Until Next Time,
KDanceWriteDream
