While reading this chapter, please keep in mind that I have absolutely no medical knowledge whatsoever, so read this with a grain of salt. I tried, but I'm not sure about most of the medical situations in this chapter. (I don't *go* to doctors, so I'm not even sure what happens in the medical exam. You might need a minor suspension of disbelief here.)

Abbie's mother picked her up from school that day because she had a doctor's appointment. Abbie absolutely hated doctor's appointments. It wasn't particularly that she didn't like having blood taken or a stick pushed down her throat (even though she didn't); it was more that she didn't like having someone's hands all over her body, even if it was just a doctor, who did this every day. In her head, Abbie knew that she was safe, but her body didn't seem to realize this, and cringed every time the doctor touched her. It reminded her of him.

"How was school, sweetheart?" asked Mrs. Carmichael, leaning over to kiss Abbie's forehead.

Abbie made a face and wiped off the kiss. "Fine. I'm going to a sleepover on Friday."

"That's nice. It's good that you're making friends." She hesitated. "Their parents are going to be there, right?"

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom."

"And no boys?"

Abbie sighed. "Obviously not. Just me and Alex and Olivia."

Her mother nodded. "Okay, just making sure. Excuse me for caring enough about you to make sure you're okay."

Abbie turned away. "I can take care of myself."

"Well, we wouldn't want what happened two months ago to happen –"

"Shut up, Mom," snapped Abbie, reaching out to turn on the radio. "I don't want to talk about that. Ever."

"Don't talk to me that way, Abigail." Her mother sounded more hurt than angry. "You know I only want what's best for you."

"You don't know what's best for me," muttered Abbie. "You thought he was a good guy."

"I was wrong," said Mrs. Carmichael quietly. "And I'm sorry."

Abbie continued flipping radio stations until she found one she liked. "If you want what's best for me, never bring this up again."

Her mother knew enough to stay silent and they rode the rest of the way to the doctor's office listening to the radio. Abbie was trying to focus on something, anything but the images that continued to swim in front of her eyes, of him. She wished so much that she could forget.

Finally they reached the doctor's office. They went inside and Mrs. Carmichael gave their name to the receptionist. They sat down and waited for Dr. Picard to be ready for them.

"Are you okay, honey?" Abbie's mother asked her, gently squeezing her shoulder.

"I'm fine, Mom," said Abbie, pulling away. "You don't have to wait with me. Go grocery shopping. We need more pasta. And Caesar salad."

"Did you make me a list?"

Abbie rolled her eyes and pulled it out of her pocket. "You should really do this yourself."

Her mother planted a kiss on the crown of Abbie's head. "Love you, sweetheart. Text me when you're done."

Abbie nodded and waved her hand dismissively. "Adios." She was trying to cover up her insecurity with an air of nonchalance. She hoped her mother couldn't see through it.

Mrs. Carmichael left the doctor's office and Abbie crossed one leg over the other, clasping her hands in her lap and trying to pretend she wasn't nervous.

Dr. Picard came out a moment later and greeted Abbie with a smile. She'd been Abbie's pediatrician in Texas when she was a child, and she'd since moved to New York to be in private practice. So when the Carmichaels moved here, Abbie had gone back to her old doctor.

"You ready?" she asked.

Abbie tried to disguise her unease, even though she knew Dr. Picard would have understood. She was the first one who'd examined Abbie when everything had happened a month ago and she had been the first one to offer Abbie support. Abbie nodded and followed the doctor into one of the rooms.

Dr. Picard gave her a smile. "Let's start with the easy stuff, okay?"

Abbie nodded and got on the scale, then had her blood pressure and pulse taken. Dr. Picard looked in her eyes and her ears and inside her mouth, then felt her neck.

Then came the questions. They were intrusive, but slightly less so than if her parents had asked the same things, because Dr. Picard had known her since she was a child. And besides, she did this every day and she'd had lots of training on the way to ask questions.

"So, Abbie, how have you been sleeping?"

Abbie shrugged. "I haven't been."

The doctor frowned. "Did you take the sedatives I prescribed?"

Abbie shook her head. "I don't like putting foreign substances into my body," she said primly.

"It's the lesser of two evils, Abbie. You need to sleep."

Abbie sighed as the doctor wrote her out a new prescription. Dr. Picard's expression softened when she saw the look of exhaustion on Abbie's face.

"Here you go, sweetie," she said gently, handing Abbie the piece of paper. "Have your mother fill the prescription on your way out."

Abbie sighed again and shoved it in her pocket, too emotionally worn out to argue. "Okay."

"Have you been eating all right?"

"What will my punishment be if I say no?" asked Abbie sarcastically.

"I'll be disappointed, but unsurprised," answered Dr. Picard, and Abbie had to smile. The doctor knew her well.

Abbie ducked her head and shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, you know what I have to say about that." The doctor sighed. "Are you sexually active, Abbie?"

Abbie shuddered and shook her head, shooting Dr. Picard a look of pure disdain.

"I had to ask." Then she said gently, "Now here's the difficult part, Abbie. I'm going to conduct the physical exam. Can you take off your shirt so I can listen to your heart?"

Abbie really didn't want to. She looked up at the doctor and waited.

Dr. Picard sighed. "I know this is difficult for you, Abbie, but it's not going to hurt. It just won't work through your shirt."

Abbie nodded. Reluctantly, she pulled her shirt over her head and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Relax, Abbie," said Dr. Picard with a smile. "It won't hurt."

Abbie folded her hands in her lap, trying to hide how vulnerable and exposed she felt, even though she was in a doctor's office. The bruises on her ribs and back still hadn't fully healed, and even though she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, she was.

She flinched as the cool metal of the stethoscope came into contact with her skin, but didn't pull away.

"Calm down, Abbie," soothed the doctor as Abbie shivered, her muscles tensing at the touch. "It's okay."

Abbie nodded and took a deep breath. She flinched every time the stethoscope moved on her skin, but she didn't move. After all, it didn't hurt. It was just uncomfortable.

"I'm going to feel your stomach now," said the doctor patiently. "Where your spleen is, okay?"

Abbie nodded and closed her eyes, reminding herself that it was Dr. Picard's gentle hands on her stomach and not his rough ones.

Finally the doctor told her she could put her shirt back on. "Your heart rate's perfectly normal," said the doctor with a smile. "You did fine, Abbie." Then she hesitated. "I think we're going to skip the rest of the exam, okay? We did that part a month ago or so, so you don't have to have it done again for six more months."

Again, Abbie nodded and sighed in relief. She took out her cell phone and texted her mother to come get her. "Thank you, Dr. Picard," she said politely. "I'll go sit in the waiting room."

"Wait, Abbie," the doctor said, holding up her hand. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Abbie didn't really have a choice, so she nodded.

"How is everything going?"

Abbie shrugged. That question was the most annoying question any grownup could ever ask just because it was so vague.

"Is it better here? Are you making any new friends?"

"Yeah." She knew Dr. Picard was asking partly because she was trained to help Abbie deal with the trauma that had befallen her and partly because she was a family friend and had known Abbie since she was a baby. She'd recommended a psychologist for Abbie to see to help her cope, and Abbie generally trusted her. "I'm going to a sleepover on Friday."

"That's good," said the doctor. "What about . . . I know you don't want to talk about this, Abbie, but have you been having any more flashbacks, nightmares?"

"You can't have nightmares if you don't sleep," responded Abbie, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the question.

Dr. Picard sighed. "I don't want to prescribe you too much medication, but –"

"Then don't," Abbie cut her off. "I won't take it, anyway, so you'll be wasting your time."

"Have you been talking to your therapist?"

"That's what she's there for."

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you, too, okay?"

Abbie nodded. "I know. Thank you, Dr. Picard."

The doctor accompanied her back out to the waiting room, where her mother was sitting in a chair. "Laura," said Dr. Picard to Mrs. Carmichael. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Abbie sighed and plopped herself down in the chair her mother had just vacated as she followed the doctor into her office. She tried to amuse herself with one of the six month old magazines lying around, but she'd already read it. Twice.

She folded her hands and tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. It was over and it had been easier than she'd expected. Granted, that was only because Dr. Picard had made it easy for her and not conducted the full exam. She'd have to come back in six more months. But that was a long time from now. By then, it would be summertime. Who knew what could change by summertime?

She wondered what Dr. Picard had been wanted to talk to her mother about. Probably just to tell her that Abbie wasn't coping as well as she might appear to be. Well, screw them. While she wasn't fine, and she knew she wasn't fine, it was nobody's business but hers.

Her mother came out a moment later. She sighed and put her hand on Abbie's shoulder. "Let's go."

Abbie flinched at the unexpected touch, then immediately got angry at herself for doing so. This was her mother. "What did she want?" demanded Abbie, to disguise her insecurities.

Her mother sighed again and planted a kiss on the crown of Abbie's head. "Nothing." She took Abbie's hand, but Abbie pulled away. Ninth graders didn't hold their parent's hands. At least, cool ninth graders.

"Nothing isn't an answer," said Abbie. "She obviously wanted something, or else she wouldn't have talked to you."

"She told me to fill the sedative prescription and make sure you take one before bed. She doesn't want you not sleeping. It's not good for you."

"Screw her," muttered Abbie, feeling an inexplicable resentment toward the woman who'd been so good so her, who'd made the checkup so easy for her, who'd tried to make her feel as comfortable as she possible could. Abbie Carmichael wasn't used to needing people – in fact, she wasn't even used to wanting them. And that was why it was so hard for her to accept the help she was being offered.

Her mother didn't respond to Abbie's comment, just stopped at the drugstore beside the doctor's office.

"You're wasting your money," Abbie warned. "I won't take it."

"Do you want to have nightmares, Abbie?" asked her mother.

"No, but I don't want to put a foreign substance into my body."

Mrs. Carmichael sighed. "It's not a foreign substance. You can go look up all the potential side effects, Abbie. It won't hurt you. Dr. Picard wouldn't prescribe you something that might hurt you."

But Abbie knew better. She knew that pain-inducing substances came in many forms. They could be pills or joints or disintegrated particles in your can of Diet Coke. They could be conspicuous or very subtle. They could even be unprecendented.

But she knew that if she hadn't ingested a foreign substance that night – a debilitating one that she didn't understand the danger of – what had happened never would have come to pass. It had been her fault for actually believing that that stupid little white pill was actually a Midol. What kind of guy keeps Midol in his bathroom? Sure, he said it was his sister's, but she should have known better. If she hadn't had one – or five – drinks too many, she would have been lucid enough to remember that he didn't even have a sister. She wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

But that night, the flashbacks that plagued her were so painful that her willpower wore thin. Checking to make sure her parents and brother were asleep, she crept into the bathroom where her mother had put the sedatives and forced herself to take the medication. As Dr. Picard had put it, they were the lesser of two evils.

But she wouldn't let her mother see that she'd won. Abbie Carmichael stuck to her guns, even when she was wrong – or at least, that was what she wanted the world to think.

I know this might have seemed like a bit of a filler chapter, but I think I had to give some hints about Abbie's past (even though if you've seen Punk, it's not really that much of a mystery, except that I changed the events from her freshman year of law school to her freshman year of high school). Review if you'd like chapter five!