Categories > Original > Drama0 Reviews
She was always a little... off. But you? You pulled the trigger. Cut a little to deep. Pused her over the edge.
By now you’ve walked from your car, to the parking lot, to the main entrance, and nothing terrible has happened…
“Excuse me, Ma’am.” Calls an accentual voice to your left. You turn to see a man, slightly younger than you, most likely in his thirties. He has dark brown hair and very visible bags under his eyes. “Is your name Sherry Therrien? “
Why would a complete stranger know your name? At least, he seems like a stranger... you recognize something in his facial features…
“No. It’s not.” You lie. Ha. You feel smart now. You’ve outwitted a potential criminal.
“Bullshit.”He growls, surprising you. “Follow me, I need to show you something.”
He turns and begins to walk into the maze-like structure of the hospital, and even though you really shouldn’t, you follow him. It’s a hospital. What’s the worst that could happen?
He’s walking fast, but not quite running, and it’s hard to keep up with him. You stopped paying attention to where you were going after a while, which really was a bad decision considering that you’re following a stranger through the strangely vacant corridors of the hospital.
The stranger stops at a door. He opens it slowly, and signals for you to come closer. You do, hesitantly, and try to look where he’s looking.
It’s… a girl? Yes, a girl, you decide. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. She’s sitting Indian style on the mattress the bed sheets are on the tile floor underneath. Her light brown hair, although it may be just very dirty blonde, is matted and falls over her face. It’s an understatement to say she’s a mess. If she was laying down, one would have thought she was dead. Bandages are wrapped around both of her forearms, and you don’t want to think about what was probably under them. She’s whimpering and violently wringing her hands together.
She turns her head, looks at you with wide, wet eyes.
So this is why you recognize the stranger.
“Do you know who this is?” He asks without showing any of the hatred you know he possesses towards you.
“No. I don’t.” You lie for the second time since you got here.
“Stop lying to yourself.” He hisses. “Bitch.”
You gasp you haven’t been called a bitch since, well, then.
“I-I-" You start, even though you know there’s nothing you can say.
Letting put all the emotions he’s kept bottled up so well, he pushed you hard enough to almost knock you down.
“You know,” He yells before taking a step back into the room. “This was all your fault!”
As he slams the door, you turn and run.
No. No. You’re not that person anymore. You reassure yourself, but the memories keep coming back. The yells. The abuse. The burning. All you put that little girl through.
When you reach your car, you silently sob against the steering wheel.
She’s always been a bit… off. But you? You pulled the trigger. Cut a little too deep. Sent her over the edge.
“I’m so sorry.” You shudder.