Blood Bond
Have You Seen Me?
It was really awkward, but Daryl didn’t give away any hint that he knew what we had--and more importantly what we had almost—done. The first place we stopped at was the hospital.
Oh, boy! Peroxide and dead people in the making!
Pretty much everyone knew about my fear of hospitals. There’s a name for that, I know… Hospital-o-phobia? No… it was called Nosocomephobia.
Anyway, at the hospital I refused to let go of Daryl’s hand. I saw all these needles, ill people, dead people, and people crying and I couldn’t take it! A few nurses stared at me and asked if I was okay. Daryl had whispered something to them and they had all nodded, smiling and looking at my tummy for some reason. Then they had said, "We'll see you in a little while!" I looked to Daryl, freaking out, and he shrugged, putting his arm around my waist, smiling gently. Daryl told me that we would make it in and out quickly and practically dragged me to the receptionist.
"Excuse me. Excuse me. Hey!" Daryl finally got her attention and she didn’t seem very happy. She glared up at him after hanging up the phone. She looked at me questionably. I looked rather pathetic with Daryl’s arm holding me tightly as I just stood there acting paranoid, afraid to speak, holding onto him as if clinging to life, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes.
"Honey, what’s a sweet little girl like you doing with a jerk like that? I doubt he’s your brother. And he wouldn’t pass for a guardian. Are you okay?" I just shook uncontrollably. Daryl laughed.
"Brother! Yeah, right! I’m not even in her bloodline! We actually came to find her brother." To me he whispered "At least, not in your bloodline yet." She either overheard him or I blushed, maybe both, because she scowled at him.
"Blood is thicker than water. And her brother is the blood. You are the water," she remarked. Daryl smirked and I knew what he was going to say.
"Yeah, but water can break, if you know what I mean. Blood would be wrong and gross. Who would do that with his sister?" Daryl smiled wickedly. I knew the nurse was watching me, but I didn’t look up. I was used to it, but it was scary to think of after what almost happened...and what already had happened. I was aware of how pathetic I must’ve looked; head down, no look of defiance, eyes dull... They probably thought that if he tried to make out on the floor then I would have let him. They thought, but I knew. He’d probably say, "It’s that or you can meet me in my room after dark." They probably assumed we had already done that.
What was that assuming line again?
"I can only assume." She shook her head.
"Assuming makes an ass out of you and me," Daryl responded. "Now then, as for her brother…"
"Go to the third floor and talk to the receptionist there. She’ll help you. I cannot." Daryl smiled, knowing she meant there was no way in hell she would, and grabbed my hand. "You’ll end up here anyway. You might as well leave her here. I mean, she is your property, right? I don’t think she wants to walk in this hospital. She’s already fragile enough." That stung. Was I property?
"Fine, but keep a leash on her. My little bitch can be quite a handful." He played along. "Don’t want her wandering away. We have to do something tonight."
"Do not speak about her that way! She deserves your respect! She is not yours to do as you please with!" She scowled.
"I’ll do as I’m damn well to." He just waved and left. I looked up and watched him leave. I reached out for him and he turned around. "I'll be back." He pulled me close and kissed me before letting go and getting on an elevator. I turned to the nurse that was shaking her head. She reminded me of how my mother would act, not yelling, just sympathizing. I’d feel tears and run to her. I looked her in the eyes and my lips started quivering, so I rubbed my eyes. She walked over to me.
"You poor baby. Only fifteen or so and you have to deal with that? Come here." She held out her arms. I couldn’t stand it: after years of having no mother’s shoulder to cry on and a father who wanted nothing to do with me and then to be given the opportunity was too much. I stumbled over to her and she wrapped her arms around me as only a loving mother could. "It’s okay."
I hadn’t cried since Justin--and Jeremiah—left. I thought I had forgotten how to, but it came easily. Too easily. She pulled back, holding my shoulders. "I can only guess that your mother left. Maybe your father had a drinking problem."
"Yes," I replied softly.
"At least you can talk. Most people in your situation feel no need to and forget how. Sweetie, it’s alright. You can talk to me. You need someone to trust and I’ll be damned to not give you that—Oops! I’m so sorry! You hear plenty of those awful, unflattering words, I’m sure." I didn’t respond. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. What if he was listening? I just looked down at my feet. "Baby, are you okay? You seem traumatized."
"No. Yes. Should I be? I don’t know. Please tell me," I pleaded, though my eyes didn’t show it.
"I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I would if I could, believe me. I would like for you to be okay, but I’d think that is impossible."
"Then I’m okay." I didn’t want to upset her. She smiled. She didn’t believe me. I frowned and slouched, eyes dropping.
"Oh, don’t be so sad! Cheer up, kiddo! You are too young to face adult problems! Here, go buy yourself a soda." She handed me a dollar and shoed me over to the pop machine. I flattened the dollar and put it in, but it kept coming back out. I just kept on putting the dollar back in mindlessly.
Oh, boy! Peroxide and dead people in the making!
Pretty much everyone knew about my fear of hospitals. There’s a name for that, I know… Hospital-o-phobia? No… it was called Nosocomephobia.
Anyway, at the hospital I refused to let go of Daryl’s hand. I saw all these needles, ill people, dead people, and people crying and I couldn’t take it! A few nurses stared at me and asked if I was okay. Daryl had whispered something to them and they had all nodded, smiling and looking at my tummy for some reason. Then they had said, "We'll see you in a little while!" I looked to Daryl, freaking out, and he shrugged, putting his arm around my waist, smiling gently. Daryl told me that we would make it in and out quickly and practically dragged me to the receptionist.
"Excuse me. Excuse me. Hey!" Daryl finally got her attention and she didn’t seem very happy. She glared up at him after hanging up the phone. She looked at me questionably. I looked rather pathetic with Daryl’s arm holding me tightly as I just stood there acting paranoid, afraid to speak, holding onto him as if clinging to life, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes.
"Honey, what’s a sweet little girl like you doing with a jerk like that? I doubt he’s your brother. And he wouldn’t pass for a guardian. Are you okay?" I just shook uncontrollably. Daryl laughed.
"Brother! Yeah, right! I’m not even in her bloodline! We actually came to find her brother." To me he whispered "At least, not in your bloodline yet." She either overheard him or I blushed, maybe both, because she scowled at him.
"Blood is thicker than water. And her brother is the blood. You are the water," she remarked. Daryl smirked and I knew what he was going to say.
"Yeah, but water can break, if you know what I mean. Blood would be wrong and gross. Who would do that with his sister?" Daryl smiled wickedly. I knew the nurse was watching me, but I didn’t look up. I was used to it, but it was scary to think of after what almost happened...and what already had happened. I was aware of how pathetic I must’ve looked; head down, no look of defiance, eyes dull... They probably thought that if he tried to make out on the floor then I would have let him. They thought, but I knew. He’d probably say, "It’s that or you can meet me in my room after dark." They probably assumed we had already done that.
What was that assuming line again?
"I can only assume." She shook her head.
"Assuming makes an ass out of you and me," Daryl responded. "Now then, as for her brother…"
"Go to the third floor and talk to the receptionist there. She’ll help you. I cannot." Daryl smiled, knowing she meant there was no way in hell she would, and grabbed my hand. "You’ll end up here anyway. You might as well leave her here. I mean, she is your property, right? I don’t think she wants to walk in this hospital. She’s already fragile enough." That stung. Was I property?
"Fine, but keep a leash on her. My little bitch can be quite a handful." He played along. "Don’t want her wandering away. We have to do something tonight."
"Do not speak about her that way! She deserves your respect! She is not yours to do as you please with!" She scowled.
"I’ll do as I’m damn well to." He just waved and left. I looked up and watched him leave. I reached out for him and he turned around. "I'll be back." He pulled me close and kissed me before letting go and getting on an elevator. I turned to the nurse that was shaking her head. She reminded me of how my mother would act, not yelling, just sympathizing. I’d feel tears and run to her. I looked her in the eyes and my lips started quivering, so I rubbed my eyes. She walked over to me.
"You poor baby. Only fifteen or so and you have to deal with that? Come here." She held out her arms. I couldn’t stand it: after years of having no mother’s shoulder to cry on and a father who wanted nothing to do with me and then to be given the opportunity was too much. I stumbled over to her and she wrapped her arms around me as only a loving mother could. "It’s okay."
I hadn’t cried since Justin--and Jeremiah—left. I thought I had forgotten how to, but it came easily. Too easily. She pulled back, holding my shoulders. "I can only guess that your mother left. Maybe your father had a drinking problem."
"Yes," I replied softly.
"At least you can talk. Most people in your situation feel no need to and forget how. Sweetie, it’s alright. You can talk to me. You need someone to trust and I’ll be damned to not give you that—Oops! I’m so sorry! You hear plenty of those awful, unflattering words, I’m sure." I didn’t respond. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. What if he was listening? I just looked down at my feet. "Baby, are you okay? You seem traumatized."
"No. Yes. Should I be? I don’t know. Please tell me," I pleaded, though my eyes didn’t show it.
"I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I would if I could, believe me. I would like for you to be okay, but I’d think that is impossible."
"Then I’m okay." I didn’t want to upset her. She smiled. She didn’t believe me. I frowned and slouched, eyes dropping.
"Oh, don’t be so sad! Cheer up, kiddo! You are too young to face adult problems! Here, go buy yourself a soda." She handed me a dollar and shoed me over to the pop machine. I flattened the dollar and put it in, but it kept coming back out. I just kept on putting the dollar back in mindlessly.