Chapter 4

I woke up in a white room. The world was spinning as I laid on a cot; pain cut through my skull. What had I done? Where was I going? I had heard about insane asylums — how they treated the patients like animals. Fear struck my heart, and I started to struggle. To my surprise, my arms and legs were strapped down. 

"No!" I screamed, pain tore through my body when I moved. "Let me go!"

The nurse beside me shook her head sadly. "You tried to kill yourself, Young Lady. This is protocol." 

"No, no, no, let me go!"

The older woman sighed and then smiled softly. "We care about you, you know that?"

If only they knew my pain, I thought viciously.

"Let me go!" I yelled again. "Let me go!" I took quick, ragged breaths in. My breath stuck in my throat. "Let me go," I choked out. I inhaled quickly, but no relief filled my lungs. I exhaled just as fast, struggling to make sense of what was happening. 

"She's having a panic attack," the nurse shouted into the hall, rushing to my side. 

What did that mean?

In 

Out

In 

Out

In 

Out

In 

Out

"Let me go!" I mouthed, not being able to form words. 

In 

Out

In 

Out

Nurses were rushing in, several already had their hands on my arm.

"You're gonna be okay."

"Breathe, everything is going to be just fine."

"You can do this."

Soft voices flooded the empty space, attempting to reassure and comfort me.

I struggled to keep conscious as my mind began to get fuzzy. Stay awake, I told myself. The lights were too bright and suddenly I felt a hand on mine. 

"Go away!" I screamed with the strength I had left, shaking my hand violently, trying to get it out of the restraint. 

I felt multiple hands over my body, holding my head and keeping my arms down. I tried to get away, but all my efforts ended with a pinch inside my elbow: a needle, I realized. 

After about ten seconds of hysterical breathing, I passed out. 

I woke up again to see my brother's face watching me from the corner of the room. 

"Kayla," He said softly when He saw me open my eyes. "I was so worried about you." 

I tried to smile, just for Him, but I couldn't. I looked around and saw flowers on my bed stand. They were fresh daisies, my favorite. 

"Who are these from?" I asked. 

At that moment, a little girl walked into the room; she clung to Lance's blue polo shirt. 

"Lance?" I said inquisitively. 

He waved at me, then set a bag of Doritos on the chair next to Him. 

The little girl went up to my side and started talking a thousand miles an hour. Something about the doritos and purple pandas. I didn't understand anything. I guess she was the opposite of Lance. 

Then someone else walked in. 

"Dad?"

But he didn't answer back immediately. His brow was furrowed, and an angry look adorned his face. "Why would you do something like that?" he stormed. 

"Dad!" He spoke up, calmly, but firmly. "KK has been through a lot, give her some time."

Dad just ignored Him. "You know what, you Damn Girl! You're draining all my money!" 

I flinched when he struck my face as a reminder of who he was. I didn't answer; after all, it would've gotten another bruise if I did. 

"Dad!" He yelled, rushing up from His seat to stop the next blow. 

"You're still the same rag doll," he raged. "Bitch, how could you do this to me?" 

"Mr. Dasheer!" Lance gargled, acid coating his deep words so that they were barely distinguishable. He ran into the hall to get a nurse, dragging the little girl with him. Seconds later a male nurse ran into my room. 

"Mr. Dasheer, this is child abuse!"

Two more nurses ran into the room, but it didn't stop the pummel of blows to my face. 

"Dad, please stop," I pleaded.

This only made the hits worse. 

Finally the nurses, along with Him and Lance, succeeded in pulling my father away. They dragged him out, but even as he was pulled backwards, his cold stare remained on me. After a minute or two, He and Lance returned to the room.

"You okay, KK?" He asked, kneeling beside my bed. 

I nodded, tears pooling in my eyes. 

"It'll be alright," He kissed my forehead, glancing up as a nurse entered the room. 

"Was that your birth father, Miss Dasheer?" she questioned. 

"Yeah," I whispered, as teardrops slid down my cheek. 

Another nurse brought in peroxide and bandages. 

"Don't cry, Honey," the older woman soothed, applying bandages to my face. She had soft blue eyes and plenty of wrinkles. Her vanilla perfume was almost overwhelming as she bent over me. 

Of course, Lance just sat dazed in the corner. My brother fidgeted with the bottom of His gray hoodie, still kneeling by my side. They couldn't have done anything while a man hurt someone they both adored. I was certain that they felt powerless.

Lance stood up with hurt in his hazel eyes. He waved half-heartedly, and nodded towards the door. 

I nodded as well. "It's okay, Lance. Go home."

Then he left. 

It was quiet for a while, He returned to His chair, gazing out the window into the outside world. I ended up getting lost in my head. What had just happened, I thought. How could my father not love me? All I had done was try to please him. I had gotten good grades, helped support my mother, and reached out to him every month or so. What more could I do? It's not like he still lived with us or even cared. For all I knew, he was still in southern New York working on cars with his new girlfriend.

He sighed. "I know what you're thinking, Kay. The truth is, he does love you. He just doesn't know how to show it," He tried to reassure me. For some reason, I didn't believe him.