A/N: I'm back! XD I'm sorry for leaving this story for so long. I just couldn't think of how to continue it. This chapter may seem a little weird, and I apologize if it does, but I think that any of you who have been through this will understand, once you start talking about this, it is really hard to stop. Anyway, I'm going to try and update this more often, I'll try and aim for a chapter a week, but no promises. Reviews would be great, and any ideas you have for how this can go forward are more than welcome. Have a good week! XD
After a few moments of silence, Serena decided that the questions could wait until after she had dealt with the immediate problem of the still bleeding cuts. After a moments consideration, she decided on what she thought to be the best plan of action. "Zosia, some of these need stitches. Let's go back to my office and I can sort them out, okay?" Serena spoke quietly, trying to calm the young doctor down. At first, Zosia didn't respond, but then have an almost imperceptible nod, which Serena nearly missed. "Okay, well if I go and get what I need to sort out your arm, will you make it to my office, or will you disappear?" Serena could see Zosia thinking about her options, and sighed. "Come on, we'll go together." She stood and walked towards the door, watching Zosia follow slowly.
As they entered her office, Serena closed the door, and this time, she decided to lock it. Not only because she wanted answers, but also because she didn't want anyone walking in on them. It was obvious that Zosia wasn't up to talking, so Serena sat her down and pulled a chair opposite her. As gently as she could, she rolled up the young doctors sleeve and took another look at her arm. There were layers of cuts and scars which revealed years of pain. Serena took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She had to deal with the open cuts and stop the bleeding before she could comfort the broken woman before her.
Zosia was terrified. She had no idea why she had shown Serena what she had done to herself. She glanced up at the consultant, and saw her busying herself with cleaning her arm and getting ready to stitch up the deeper cuts. She was confused. Where she expected to see disgust and hate, she saw pity. So, for a reason she wasn't sure of, Zosia began to talk.
"I was 14, the first time. I can't remember exactly what made me think it would be a good idea, but I can remember why. I never had many friends, even then. People just don't seem to like me. That year, at school, it got worse. It went from people ignoring me, to my life being made hell. I was bullied. Relentlessly. So when I got home one night, I just snapped. I trashed my room, throwing things about, hitting everything I could. I hit my mirror, and smashed it. The next thing I remember, I was sat on the floor with a piece of it in my hand, and blood running down my arm. I was calm, I could think clearly. It was wonderful. I've tried to stop, so many times. But I always start again. I was 17, I'd been clean for 3 months, when some girl at school saw my scars. She laughed and told all her friends. By the next day, the whole school knew about it. By the end of the week, I'd got so fed up of people telling me to 'just go and kill myself' that I did. Or I tried at least. Colette found me.y dad had found out that him and Mama had to work all night, and he'd sent Colette round to keep an eye on me. She stitched me up, and I made her promise not to tell anyone about it. She agreed, as long as I told Mama about the bullying." Zosia paused as a mug was held in front of her face. She suddenly noticed that Serena had finished her stitches and had bandaged up her arms. She took a long drink out of the mug, the hot tea burning her throat as she swallowed.
Serena sat back down opposite the young doctor. She hadn't said anything, as she didn't want to frighten Zosia, or stop her talking, however she felt like she should do something to try and comfort her. So she had made tea. Old, but effective. After a few seconds, Zosia continued.
"I kept trying to stop, but it was just too hard. I'd be clean for a few days, weeks even, then something would happen and I'd be back to square 1. The longest I was clean was 4 months and 2 weeks. Then Mama died. It was hard, coping with the pressure of medical school, and then after that... I haven't been clean since."