Author's note: Well, I guess waiting for my stories is like buses - you wait forever for an update, and two come along at once! Sorry about that, it's a busy old life being at University. The only reason I've updated now is that I'm making a concerted effort to avoid studying (that and doesn't inspiration strike at all the wrong moments in life?) I hope that it still makes sense, please let me know if not!
Chapter 7: Liars
"Hello again, Miss Lockhart,"
Her heart was heavy, and she was unusually filled with a trepidation that chilled her.
"Andy,"
She acknowledged him sharply, snatching up the chart almost viciously.
"So Miss Lockhart, Abby, can I call you Abby?"
She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the paper in front of her and away from the patient.
"What's your relationship with baby brother? I assume you know,"
"He's a friend,"
Her sentences were delibarately clipped and final. She wasn't sure just how true her answer was, but it was the easiest.
"How much has this "friend" told you?"
"More than enough,"
"His side of the story,"
Andy surmised. He was bright, keen but cold. She didn't want to be having this conversation.
"Sounded pretty convincing to me. He wouldn't lie,"
She tried to stop her voice from rising, attempted not to sound too impassioned.
"He might embellish,"
Andy was trying to provoke a reaction, and she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of getting one.
"Andy. I've seen domestic abuse in my time. It's rarely the victims who lie,"
She stated the blatantly obvious, as firmly as possible but avoided any hint of anger in her voice. She could be as cold and brittle as Andy. something she intended to prove.
"He was 13 and defiant. He had spirit and he refused to behave,"
He sounded desperate to excuse his actions, to justify what he did. Abby refused to bite, refused to rise.
"So you decided you'd break him by beating it out of him? Looks like you failed,"
Andy's eyes were blank, shocked by her defiance. He had failed. He hadn't broken his brother, he'd made him stronger.
"If he wanted to, he could still have you prosecuted you know,"
"And you'd be the first to support that wouldn't you?"
Andy recovered himself enough to respond to her challenge. He didn't look a haunted man, or threatened by the thought of retribution. Chillingly, he looked normal.
"If it helped him then yes,"
Her chin was up, eyes proud and blazing, but aside from Andy's gaze. She hardly knew him but instinctively hated him.
"You sure you're only friends? Your eyes tell a different story,"
She was aware she was under scrutiny and it felt cold. She couldn't hide from the suggestive tone, it caught her with a worrying force.
"What do you know?"
She fired back quickly, without faltering.
"Well, if he's anything like me, he'll be able to appreciate a pretty woman,"
On anyone elses tongue, that would be a compliment. On Andy's, it sent a shock down her spine that made her shiver.
"He's nothing like you,"
"You defend his honour so well, but why?"
"Because you are a violent tempered, over-bearing, control freak who beat up on kids. He, for all he's egotistical, is a nice person."
She didn't even pause to question why she was so quick to his defence, why she was involved. It seemed irrelevant now she was, but would undoubtedly appear odd. Even he was probably questioning her motives. She saved people to avoid being saved. That's the pop psychology explanation, anything deeper she worked hard to avoid. The vitriol rolled off her tongue before she could stop it.
"Weren't you ever taught it isn't nice to judge?"
"Yeah. I can't help it if I say what I think. It's a flaw,"
The tone dripped self-deprecation sarcasm, and bit hard, deep into the rooms suffocating atmosphere.
"So you're judge, jury and executioner? My death warrant should already be signed,"
"You did a fairly good job of making sure that somewhere it is,"
"It's not my fault he never got over it,"
"He never got over it because he still thinks it was his fault,"
"You ever establish it wasn't?"
"It's never the victims fault."
The exchange left her breathless, she shocked herself at how angry she was. Her clinical tone bit hard but had no effect on the black-hearted patient. The same blood flowed in his veins as in Daves. It barely seemed possible that brothers could be this disparate.
"That's what he is to you now. A victim? What was he before?"
"If you'll excuse me, I have other patients,"
She exited quickly and smoothly to avoid any further confrontation. She didn't even want to imagine the smirk on Andy's face, smug and self-satisfied. She didn't want him to improve. He barely deserved her time, let alone their effort.
Chapter 7: Liars
"Hello again, Miss Lockhart,"
Her heart was heavy, and she was unusually filled with a trepidation that chilled her.
"Andy,"
She acknowledged him sharply, snatching up the chart almost viciously.
"So Miss Lockhart, Abby, can I call you Abby?"
She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the paper in front of her and away from the patient.
"What's your relationship with baby brother? I assume you know,"
"He's a friend,"
Her sentences were delibarately clipped and final. She wasn't sure just how true her answer was, but it was the easiest.
"How much has this "friend" told you?"
"More than enough,"
"His side of the story,"
Andy surmised. He was bright, keen but cold. She didn't want to be having this conversation.
"Sounded pretty convincing to me. He wouldn't lie,"
She tried to stop her voice from rising, attempted not to sound too impassioned.
"He might embellish,"
Andy was trying to provoke a reaction, and she was determined not to give him the satisfaction of getting one.
"Andy. I've seen domestic abuse in my time. It's rarely the victims who lie,"
She stated the blatantly obvious, as firmly as possible but avoided any hint of anger in her voice. She could be as cold and brittle as Andy. something she intended to prove.
"He was 13 and defiant. He had spirit and he refused to behave,"
He sounded desperate to excuse his actions, to justify what he did. Abby refused to bite, refused to rise.
"So you decided you'd break him by beating it out of him? Looks like you failed,"
Andy's eyes were blank, shocked by her defiance. He had failed. He hadn't broken his brother, he'd made him stronger.
"If he wanted to, he could still have you prosecuted you know,"
"And you'd be the first to support that wouldn't you?"
Andy recovered himself enough to respond to her challenge. He didn't look a haunted man, or threatened by the thought of retribution. Chillingly, he looked normal.
"If it helped him then yes,"
Her chin was up, eyes proud and blazing, but aside from Andy's gaze. She hardly knew him but instinctively hated him.
"You sure you're only friends? Your eyes tell a different story,"
She was aware she was under scrutiny and it felt cold. She couldn't hide from the suggestive tone, it caught her with a worrying force.
"What do you know?"
She fired back quickly, without faltering.
"Well, if he's anything like me, he'll be able to appreciate a pretty woman,"
On anyone elses tongue, that would be a compliment. On Andy's, it sent a shock down her spine that made her shiver.
"He's nothing like you,"
"You defend his honour so well, but why?"
"Because you are a violent tempered, over-bearing, control freak who beat up on kids. He, for all he's egotistical, is a nice person."
She didn't even pause to question why she was so quick to his defence, why she was involved. It seemed irrelevant now she was, but would undoubtedly appear odd. Even he was probably questioning her motives. She saved people to avoid being saved. That's the pop psychology explanation, anything deeper she worked hard to avoid. The vitriol rolled off her tongue before she could stop it.
"Weren't you ever taught it isn't nice to judge?"
"Yeah. I can't help it if I say what I think. It's a flaw,"
The tone dripped self-deprecation sarcasm, and bit hard, deep into the rooms suffocating atmosphere.
"So you're judge, jury and executioner? My death warrant should already be signed,"
"You did a fairly good job of making sure that somewhere it is,"
"It's not my fault he never got over it,"
"He never got over it because he still thinks it was his fault,"
"You ever establish it wasn't?"
"It's never the victims fault."
The exchange left her breathless, she shocked herself at how angry she was. Her clinical tone bit hard but had no effect on the black-hearted patient. The same blood flowed in his veins as in Daves. It barely seemed possible that brothers could be this disparate.
"That's what he is to you now. A victim? What was he before?"
"If you'll excuse me, I have other patients,"
She exited quickly and smoothly to avoid any further confrontation. She didn't even want to imagine the smirk on Andy's face, smug and self-satisfied. She didn't want him to improve. He barely deserved her time, let alone their effort.