Chapter 5: In A Former Life
A flash, a picture from another time. From another life, long buried. A hospital much like this, only he wasn't a doctor. He was a nobody watching his older brother weave a web of lies to suffocate their family. He stood at the end of the bed, Erica a tiny figure against the pillows, her face bloodied and turning a dull purple, her arm in a sling. Her eyes were still dazed, misty, but above all scared.
Andy was on a charm offensive, sweet-talking to young female doctor, a square jawed redhead with untarnished pale skin. A knot tightened in his stomach as he watched the medic fall hook, line and sinker for every word that left the snake-like tongue. He was 13, not quite grown out of the scrawny child he had been, awkward in his own skin. He didn't dare say anything, couldn't bring himself to challenge Andy, so instead helplessly he implored the medic to notice something, to say something.
He screwed up his courage, knowing that confrontation would bring Andy's wrath down on him, but unwilling to see his little sister so afraid again. When the medic left, Andy's demeanour changed.
"You're a liar,"
Andy's head snapped up, eyes fixed him in that uncompromising, lethal glare. He pulled himself straight and squared his shoulders.
"What did you say?"
"You lied to the doctor,"
The words were someone elses, but it was his voice.
"What did you want? The truth? You want to be thrown into care?"
The words and the impact came together and knocked the breath from his lungs. Strong fingers gripped him round the throat, bruising sensitive skin. He struggled to draw air into constricted lungs. Andy held him, his entire body tense, until in pure desperation he shook his head.
"Then keep it shut,"
He fell forwards to the floor, fingering his bruised throat, chest heaving to replace lost oxygen. Andy scraped the plastic chair against the lino and sat by Erica's bed, calm as you like. There had been no raised voices, no obvious signs of violence. But he could feel the vice like grip as he could hear Erica's screams in their tiny apartment.
The scene was gone as suddenly as it appeared. He was surprised to find a hand subconsciously raised to his throat, still able to visualise the red welts left by his brother's fingers. Why had no one ever noticed?
There had to medical records. Did someone, anyone, not recognise them? Mind you, they were forgettable kids. He was a scrawny, average, olve skinned youngster, dark haired and dark eyes, quiet. Erica was diminuitive, vulnerable, paler skinned with blue-green eyes and plain brown hair straight to her shoulders. Nothing that marked them out from any other accident prone children. So they were forgettable. Forgotten.
He hadn't ever forgotten any child he had treated. He had an empathy with frightened children he was sure his colleagues must have noticed. Suspected abuse raised his hackles, he fought for those kids, determined they wouldn't be forgotten, anonymous silent victims as he had been.
He placed two hands flat against the glass and rested his forehead between them, fighting the familiar fist forming low in his stomach. He had come down here in a righteous rage, bitterly wanting to have this out with his brother. But the flashback had stolen his rage, his strength and replaced it with fear.
"Hey,"
A hand came down on his shoulder, the muscles tight and knotted beneath the skin. He jumped, though the size and weight of the hand identified its owner as female. Instinct he guessed. Deep rooted survival instinct, vestigial from his childhood.
"You OK?"
He shifted his weight away from the glass, drew his hands into his sides, rolling his left shoulder to remove the knots. Only then did he, slowly and delibarately, meet the brunettes eyes and answer with a deeply insincere
"Fine,"
She knew he was lying, but he walked away before another word was uttered.
There was only one other person who knew Andy was his brother and it was her. That knowledge burdened him more than if it had only been him involved. He wondered what she thought of him, what she thought the reasons behind the animosity were. He wondered if she'd ever given the information a second thought since she'd pushed him hard enough to break his wall of silence earlier.
Weren't many people who broke that wall. They usually didn't care enough. Erica was the only other person and he hadn't seen her since he was 18. Where was his baby sister? Had she could through her ordeal in better shape that him or had Andy managed to destroy her whole life? He was shamed that he had deserted her, but the flight instinct was primal and he could never bring himself to return.
A flash, a picture from another time. From another life, long buried. A hospital much like this, only he wasn't a doctor. He was a nobody watching his older brother weave a web of lies to suffocate their family. He stood at the end of the bed, Erica a tiny figure against the pillows, her face bloodied and turning a dull purple, her arm in a sling. Her eyes were still dazed, misty, but above all scared.
Andy was on a charm offensive, sweet-talking to young female doctor, a square jawed redhead with untarnished pale skin. A knot tightened in his stomach as he watched the medic fall hook, line and sinker for every word that left the snake-like tongue. He was 13, not quite grown out of the scrawny child he had been, awkward in his own skin. He didn't dare say anything, couldn't bring himself to challenge Andy, so instead helplessly he implored the medic to notice something, to say something.
He screwed up his courage, knowing that confrontation would bring Andy's wrath down on him, but unwilling to see his little sister so afraid again. When the medic left, Andy's demeanour changed.
"You're a liar,"
Andy's head snapped up, eyes fixed him in that uncompromising, lethal glare. He pulled himself straight and squared his shoulders.
"What did you say?"
"You lied to the doctor,"
The words were someone elses, but it was his voice.
"What did you want? The truth? You want to be thrown into care?"
The words and the impact came together and knocked the breath from his lungs. Strong fingers gripped him round the throat, bruising sensitive skin. He struggled to draw air into constricted lungs. Andy held him, his entire body tense, until in pure desperation he shook his head.
"Then keep it shut,"
He fell forwards to the floor, fingering his bruised throat, chest heaving to replace lost oxygen. Andy scraped the plastic chair against the lino and sat by Erica's bed, calm as you like. There had been no raised voices, no obvious signs of violence. But he could feel the vice like grip as he could hear Erica's screams in their tiny apartment.
The scene was gone as suddenly as it appeared. He was surprised to find a hand subconsciously raised to his throat, still able to visualise the red welts left by his brother's fingers. Why had no one ever noticed?
There had to medical records. Did someone, anyone, not recognise them? Mind you, they were forgettable kids. He was a scrawny, average, olve skinned youngster, dark haired and dark eyes, quiet. Erica was diminuitive, vulnerable, paler skinned with blue-green eyes and plain brown hair straight to her shoulders. Nothing that marked them out from any other accident prone children. So they were forgettable. Forgotten.
He hadn't ever forgotten any child he had treated. He had an empathy with frightened children he was sure his colleagues must have noticed. Suspected abuse raised his hackles, he fought for those kids, determined they wouldn't be forgotten, anonymous silent victims as he had been.
He placed two hands flat against the glass and rested his forehead between them, fighting the familiar fist forming low in his stomach. He had come down here in a righteous rage, bitterly wanting to have this out with his brother. But the flashback had stolen his rage, his strength and replaced it with fear.
"Hey,"
A hand came down on his shoulder, the muscles tight and knotted beneath the skin. He jumped, though the size and weight of the hand identified its owner as female. Instinct he guessed. Deep rooted survival instinct, vestigial from his childhood.
"You OK?"
He shifted his weight away from the glass, drew his hands into his sides, rolling his left shoulder to remove the knots. Only then did he, slowly and delibarately, meet the brunettes eyes and answer with a deeply insincere
"Fine,"
She knew he was lying, but he walked away before another word was uttered.
There was only one other person who knew Andy was his brother and it was her. That knowledge burdened him more than if it had only been him involved. He wondered what she thought of him, what she thought the reasons behind the animosity were. He wondered if she'd ever given the information a second thought since she'd pushed him hard enough to break his wall of silence earlier.
Weren't many people who broke that wall. They usually didn't care enough. Erica was the only other person and he hadn't seen her since he was 18. Where was his baby sister? Had she could through her ordeal in better shape that him or had Andy managed to destroy her whole life? He was shamed that he had deserted her, but the flight instinct was primal and he could never bring himself to return.