15. I’m Dying!
fifteen
I’m Dying!
Tulip: 2010 Age: 13
“ H elp!” I yell into the darkness, beating my hand on the bars.
“Tulip, shut up. What the hell are you doing?” he rasps loudly.
“I’m dying, B,” I sob, still beating my hands on the bars, trying to get someone's attention.
“Calm down. Why do you think you’re dying?” he asks, reaching from his cell, holding out his hand for me.
Recently, he’s been letting me hold his hand when I get scared. It helps, but this is different. I need a doctor.
“I’m bleeding, B. I’m dying. My insides are decaying. I can feel it. Help!” I shout, blinded by my tears.
“Calm down. It’s okay. You’re not dying. You got your period,” he tells me calmly.
“I don’t know what that means. But you’re wrong. Someone help!” I yell, using up all my air.
The tinkling of keys, matched with rushed footsteps, echo in the darkness. “What the hell’s going on?” Hazel yells once she’s a few steps away from my cell.
“It’s fine. She had a nightmare. She’ll be quiet,” B rushes, trying to cut her off.
She stands outside my cell holding a flashlight pointed at my face. “Have you gone crazy? Shut up. Everyone’s sleeping.”
“I need to see the doctor. Please,” I beg, pressing my wet cheeks to the crusty chipped bars.
She laughs. “Go to sleep, or I’m taking your ass to the chair for waking me up.”
“No, please. I’m serious, Hazel. I need a Doctor right now,” I plead, fear making my voice shaky.
“No,” she deadpans, starting to walk away.
“I’m going to tell Bolton everything!” I scream, panic taking over my brain.
“What did you say?” she hisses, spinning around, shining the light in my face, blinding me again. “You little bitch,” she rasps. “You’re no better than your worthless bloodline. All of you think you’re so superior.”
“Leave her alone, Hazel. It was me. I did it. I scared her and made her scream,” Brock shouts, beating and shaking his cell bars, trying to gain her attention.
“I’m dying!” I shout. “Get me out of here. I don’t want to die in this dirty cell,” I shout, rattling the bars with all my might.
She starts searching through her keys. “You’re going to wish you were dying,” she sneers, quickly finding the right key.
“Fuck you, Hazel! Take me. Leave her alone!” Brock shouts angrily, practically climbing his cell door.
“I’ll get to you later.” She fists my hair, dragging me from my cell.
Once we’re in the aisle she shoves my head down, forcing me to bend over, walking me like a dog. I can still hear B shouting at the top of his lungs when she opens the door at the end of the hall.
“Please, I need to see the doctor,” I sob, panic and fear taking over.
I’m unsure where she takes me because she’s forcing me to stare at my feet. A door opens, and suddenly, I’m being shoved into a room. A dirty wooden chair with straps sits in the corner, a single light hanging above it.
“Get in the chair,” she orders, stalking towards me.
Hands out in front of me, my head shaking. “No, please. I need the doctor. I’ll be good. Please,” I beg, starting to sob harder.
“Lying little bitch. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Your family humiliated us. Now it’s your turn to be humiliated,” she rasps evilly, getting closer.
“Tobias, restrain Hazel,” Dr. Bolton’s voice orders loudly.
Our heads snap to the forgotten doorway, and I watch Tobias drag Hazel, kicking and screaming, from the room.
“I’m sorry, Tulip. Let’s go to my office and talk.” Dr. Bolton tells me softly, trying to settle me down.