The Kids From Yesterday

11:38 am

Portland, Oregon

Courtyard Marriot Hotel

December 18th, 2004

Elliot awoke groaning in pain. Her side was on fire. she took in her surroundings. She was in a hotel room. She was in a bed, and she had one fleeting image of getting there which was being carried into an elevator.

“Humph,” she whines, and coughs her throat was scratchy and her sinuses hurt. Gingerly, despite all her pain, she maneuvered herself out the bed so she could pee. Her noises of discomfort woke Frank.

“Elliot? What’s wrong,” he asked groggily.

“Nothing,” she breathes out, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“It’s the door closest to the bed,” he replies sleep so evident in voice she was sure he was sleep-
talking.

She clambered out of the bed as gracefully and as gently as she could without her side cussing her out like she was a murderer. She wished Hell on Earth on the men that did this to her silently with a sour look on her face.

She opened the door and peaked inside. Mikey was at the sink brushing his teeth. He looked over at Elliot and nodded before finishing his dental hygienic routine.

“I’ll be just a moment,” he said and then rinsed his brush before taking his toiletries with him. From the humidity of the room she could tell he had just showered. A shower, damn, did that sound perfect to Elliot.

Elliot locked the door after he left, as well as the door that led to her room. She didn’t want, nor did she need grown-ass men walking in on her doing her morning business.

When she was finished she quickly went back to her room to get her bag, it was sitting near her bed in all of its black JanSport glory.

She dug through it to try and find something reasonably dry, but none of it was except for one pair of panties, and those were a tiny bit damp, but nothing she couldn’t fix without a hair dryer. She sighs in defeat and just comes to terms with the fact that she will have to wear the clothes she slept in until she could her clothes washed and dried.

But really, she wanted a shower. Shower, she hadn’t had a real one since she left home. Hopefully the hot air will help her congestion. She started the shower and while she waited for it to warm up, she stripped down and took her hair out its ponytail.

She stepped under the stream and could practically hear her muscles and skin sing their gratefulness for hot water and soap. She stood in the shower for a few minutes just taking in the fact that she was showering for the first time in six months. Sure she kept herself somewhat clean, but there’s only so much you can do with a Wal-Mart sink and a wash cloth.

She wet her hair and scrubbed it with the hotel’s lavender shampoo. She scrubbed her scalp till it was raw; she scrubbed her skin till it was red. The water turned grey at her feet and her feet were black on the heels, platforms, and toes. She scrubbed her feet and ankles and any other crevasse that was harboring dirt and grime. She was fucking filthy. She got shave for the first time in forever as well, and the hair that came off her little body was gross, and she only shaved her legs and underarms. However, when she finished she smelled like lavender, actually the whole bathroom did, and she felt like she was new person who had their shit together. Except she was an eighteen year old street rat that let a group of grown men take her to Oregon—she definitely did not have her shit together, but she could act like it.

She got out of the shower and grabbed two fluffy towels, one to put on her head to wrap her hair, and one to wrap around her body. She grabbed the hotel hair dryer and dried her underwear so she could put them on. After she put all of her clothes back on she unlocked the door leading to the other’s room, and then opened the door leading into her room so the bathroom could air out. She then brushed her teeth.

She looked into the mirror she finished brushing her teeth, the bruise on her face had changed from a deep purple to a blue-purple-early-tints-of-green looking thing. She lightly poked it, it was tender but nothing she couldn’t handle. She took her hair out of the towel so she could brush it. She sighed when she finished and looked back into the mirror.

She decided it was safe to take her shirt off again so she could further examine the giant contusion her side. The bruise started just below the hem of her sports bra and ended right at her hip bone. It was different colors in different areas, it was blue and purple in general area of her ribs and greenish-yellow near her hip and where it faded near her tummy.

The contusion prevented her movement in certain directions, and it hurt to bend over and breathe deeply. Basically, the bruise was making everything difficult. Including coughing, something she was consistently doing since she woke up.

Now the rain is going to make me sick?
She had lost a lot of weight since she left home, her collar bone stuck out in a bit of a sick way, her ribs too protruded, and she was almost sure her boobs had also gotten smaller as well.

Great, I’m already as short as a 12 year old, now I have the body of one too, fucking just awesome.

She let her fingers skim over the top of her bruise; she contorted her face, it was tender like the one on her face, but it hurt a lot worse.

She looked up into the mirror; her eyes met Frank’s horrified, albeit still sleepy, ones.

“Shit Elliot,” he whispered and was at her side instantly, “What happened?”

He gulped and looked at it, it was a monstrosity of a bruise and-no surprise- Elliot was keeping quiet.

She hurriedly tried to put her shirt back on but Frank yanked it from the sink before she could.

“I’m only going to ask you one more time, and unless you want to go to the hospital to get hounded for answers, you better fess up.” Frank said lowly, “What the fuck happened?”

“It’s nothing, I was kicked, I bruise easily,” she mumbled and tried to grab her shirt back from Frank.

Frank wasn’t buying it. Getting kicked didn’t leave a bruise of that magnitude.

“No, when you get kicked it leaves a bruise the size of a quarter or an apple if it’s bad, this wasn’t caused by a single kick,” Frank folded his arms as he spoke, giving Elliot the look of bewilderment.

“So I was kicked a few times,” she mumbled again not looking up.

“A few times, really?”

“Well obviously enough to bruise my entire fucking side,” she huffed out pissed off; “Can I have the shirt?”

He said nothing but handed her the shirt reluctantly.

She tried to act like she wasn’t in pain when she had to put it back on.
Frank watched intently. He didn’t like the way her shoulder blades stuck out, he didn’t like the circles under her eyes, he didn’t like the fact she was bony, he didn’t like the huge bruise on her side, and he particularly did not like the fact that she looked like she would break like a tooth pick if you pressed to hard.

“I know when someone is in pain, don’t try to cover it up, it’s okay to be in pain,” Frank said when she let the shirt fall to her hips.

She turned to the mirror and braced her arms against the sink. She hated how much pain she was actually in, last night she was running and adrenaline was pumping through her so she couldn’t really feel anything, but now that she’s not in any immediate danger what so-fucking-ever—her entire body hurt. She had crap in her lungs, she had been coughing all morning, she was shivering, she was congested and she felt like she had been thrown into the ocean five miles out and forced to swim back to shore.

Shit, she’s been swimming her entire life, never making it to shore.

She couldn’t even breathe through her nose to even try to calm down. She was shaking, and goddammit she was not going to cry.

“Hey, are you okay?” Frank asked when Elliot didn’t move, “Elliot?”

She shook her head, her hair falling in her face.

“Maybe we should take you to the hospital,”

“No! I could come up missing or some shit, they could send me home,” she gulped, “I don’t want to go home,”

“We don’t know if you have any broken ribs, they could puncture a lung-”

“I think I would know if I broke a rib,” she says contemptuously.

“Well you can’t move without the pain making you cringe,” he sent her an arrogant smirk, “You don’t know shit,”

“Ugh, I would know if something was broken!”

“You can’t move! Something is obviously wrong!”

“What the fuck is up with the yelling? It is noon thirty; some people are trying to sleep!” Ray yelled from the room.

“Look,” Frank says in a soothing tone, “you’re going to the hospital; you need to get checked.”

“What happened to ‘you’re eighteen Elliot, I can’t tell you to do shit’ bullshit?” Elliot argued.

“There’s no winning with you, is there?”

Elliot smirked and shook her head.

“You’re going to the hospital, that’s that, I don’t care if you’re eighteen, you’re hurt, and goddammit Elliot, you could be facing something that could potentially kill you.” Frank had a tone of finality in his voice that Elliot figured she shouldn’t even try to argue with.

Elliot deflated, she was done. Fucking Frank could go fuck himself, but why did he have to so fucking right?

“Elliot?”

“Okay, fine, you insistent prick,” she gave in.

“I’ll wake Gerard; he’s good at this stuff,” Frank grinned, and walked into the room through the door in the bathroom.

Well shit.
=---=-=---=--===--
2:27pm

Memorial Hospital of Portland

Portland, Oregon

December 18th, 2004

“So you fell?” Asked Elliot’s nurse, as she examined the mess on her side.

After nearly two hours of waiting, Elliot was called into the back to be examined. She was adorned with five bracelets, one with her social security number and all of her other information, and four that said she was allergic to Codeine, Morphine, Penicillin, and strawberries.
Her nurse introduced herself as Nurse Abby, she was young and she had green eyes that reminded Elliot of grass in the middle of spring.

Elliot was fucking freezing, hospitals were cold, she had a fever, and Nurse Abby made her take everything off except her damn underwear. Meaning Elliot was a bit hostile to the sweet heart type nurse.

Elliot nodded answering Nurse Abby’s question, not even trying to cover up the fact that she was shivering. Nurse Abby had taken her temperature; Nurse Abby knew that Elliot had a fever.
I fucking hate hospitals, I hate them so much. Fuck this Nurse Abby, fuck Frank, fucking fuck everything.

“How do you fall and end with a bruise like this?”

“It’s a talent,” Elliot nearly growled, “Can I please put my clothes on? I’m freezing,” she wrapped her arms around her chest.

Nurse Abby looked at her, “I’m sorry Elliot, but I need to make sure of some other things…”

“Like what?” she squeaked. She started to bounce on her toes a little to get some blood flowing.

“Are you sure you fell, neither one of those guys out there didn’t do this to you?” Nurse Abby looked at her with sympathy, “I mean that bruise on your face is pretty suspicious too.”

“Hold up,” Elliot almost laughed at the Nurse Abby’s stupidity, “you’re not letting me put my clothes back on because you think my cousin beat the shit out of me? Why would he take me to the hospital if he was the one who did it?” Elliot was pissed.

Gerard was her cousin, they were hiking the day before and Elliot fell. That was their story, and they were sticking with it.

“Okay, well you need to get some x-rays done, so I’m sorry you’re going to have to deal with a hospital gown and your sweats,” Nurse Abby almost cringed, Elliot intimidated her slightly.

“Fine,” Elliot mumbled and tried to pick her sweats off of the floor, her side protested.

“Here,” Nurse Abby picked the sweats off the floor sat down on the chair that was provided for her and helped Elliot into them, like a mother helping their child into their clothes. The whole ‘hold your mom’s shoulders so you don’t fall while putting your pants on’ type of help. It was a bit embarrassing however, Elliot filled with gratitude for Abby, she was young and not yet a registered nurse so she had to deal with people like Elliot all day, helping them in and out bed, in and out of their clothes, spoon feeding the really helpless.

Elliot realized it wasn’t just the people who had to be at the hospital because of injury or ailment, but maybe the people who worked there too hated the place. Elliot decided she would be nicer to the nurse, to at least make it a brighter day.

“Sorry,” Elliot mumbled when Nurse Abby was fastening the clasps of her gown, “Sorry I snapped at you, I got a little too defensive, I’m sick and it hurts to cough, my side is making me frustrated, and
I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” she confesses.

“It’s okay, I just had to make sure for precaution, and I would get my ass skinned if they found out
that we were sending you back to somewhere dangerous,” Nurse Abby said and double checked to make sure Elliot’s back wasn’t peeking through the gown, “You’re going to stay in here though, we’ll send your cousin and his friend in while I take you to Radiology,”
Nurse Abby called the triage to get the other two back into Elliot’s room. During examination they were asked to stay in the waiting room.

“Alright, thanks Katie,” Nurse Abby smiled into the phone and hung up, “Okay Elliot, let’s get you to Radiology.”

--==-===-

45 minutes later Elliot was back in her room, on her bed thing, bundled up in hospital issued blankets. Frank was at the foot of the bed, facing her, sitting Indian style; he was observing her now that she had some pain medication in her. She had just devoured a plate of hospital food saying it was the best thing she had ever eaten, and now she was going a bit loopy.

“Frankie!” she practically yelled and crawled over to him and petted his hair, smiling, “I feel great, do you feel great? Because shit, I feel like I could take on fucking Godzilla or something,” she laughs and sat back on her knees smiling, her pupils were huge.

She is so stoned right now.

She was funny when she was on Motrin, and Motrin wasn’t even that hard of a drug. But she was loopy. It was great.

“I feel pretty good,” he tells Elliot.

“How about you Gerard?” she asks loudly.

Gerard was sitting in a chair near the door; he too was watching Elliot with an amused face.

“I’m pretty damn good Elliot,” he grins at Elliot.

She just giggles kicking her feet out and rests them a few inches away from Frank’s knees. Her sock clad feet wiggling about. Her side—she had forgotten about her side.

I hope they don’t send her home with any of this. Something weaker would be fine considering she’s a giggly mess.

She had color in her cheeks, a twinkle in her eyes- she was radiant, all hyped up on pain killers. Frank liked the vibe she was giving off, even if it was drug induced. She was acting like the person that she had buried under her hard ass exterior.

He smiled silently at her, her eyes were half lidded and a silly grin plastered on her face as she sat there sort of limp but happy nonetheless.

“Frankie?” She whispers.

“Yes Elliot?” He answers in a normal volume.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to say your name, I like the name Frankie, it’s so… Frankie,” she mumbles, “You can call me Ellie if you want, everyone calls me Ellie.”

“Ellie it is then, we’ll call you Ellie, right Gerard?”

“Ellie… I like it,” Gerard agrees.

“Okay,” Ellie smiles.

-

“Alright, Elliot,” a woman came in.

“It’s Ellie,” Ellie said immediately.

“Alright, Ellie, how are you feeling,” the woman asked.

“Fucking great,” Ellie pipes up, “how are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, thank you,” the lady smiles, “I’m Dr. Elias; I’ve been overseeing your case,”

Ellie stopped smiling the second she heard the doctor’s name. She went stone cold sour, it was weird.

What the fuck, Elliot? You were just smiling and laughing two seconds ago!

Dr. Elias didn’t notice Ellie’s sudden shift in mood and just kept talking.

“I examined your x-rays and you’ll be happy to know that nothing was broken, not a single thing fractured—you did bruise your 6th and 9th ribs,” the doctor informed, “So for the next couple of weeks, refrain from anything that could make you fall, such as contact sports, dancing, running-”

“Walking, maybe breathing?” Frank interrupts trying to get a smile from Ellie who was still scowling at the doctor.

“Funny, but anything you may deem dangerous is a total no-go, running will expand your rib-cage which will irritate your bruised ribs which will further your recovery time and could possibly even fracture your ribs,” Dr. Elias ranted, “Elliot, consider yourself very lucky, something should be broken,” her eyes skirted over to Frank who was still seated at the foot of Ellie’s bed, “I’ll prescribe you some pain meds and I’ll send you on home,” the doctor smiles.

Ellie nods and stays silent.

Another hour later, Ellie was dressed, medicated with something that wasn’t Motrin, and exhausted after spending nearly five hours inside of a hospital.

Elliot hated hospitals with her entire tiny being, the vibe, the smell, the over-whelming feeling of just death. She tried not to blame doctors for death, but someone must be blamed.

“I had Ray wash your clothes,” Frank told Ellie when they were in the elevator on their way to their floor.

“Oh, um thanks, he didn’t have to do that,” Ellie was surprised, a little peeved that a stranger when through her stuff, but grateful at the same time.

“Eh, your clothes needed to be washed, and dry,” Frank shrugs.

They arrived to their floor and walked to their rooms.

“Meet us in my room when she gets settled,” Gerard says and enters his room.

“Yeah,” Frank says and leads Ellie into their room.

The light was off—Ray was probably with the others.

Frank flipped the light on. On top of Ellie’s bed and was a small pile of clothes, all folded and her bag was placed on the ground where she had left it. It was closed, meaning Ray probably didn’t snoop around in her stuff.

Elliot flushed pink when she realizes that Ray handled, washed, and folded all of her clothes, including bras and underwear. She laughs lightly and goes through her clothes: 8 socks, all mismatched, 3 pairs of jeans, 5 t-shirts, one black jacket, one black hoodie, one pair of sleep shorts, 3 bras, 5 pairs of underwear, and then the bra and underwear she was wearing. All of it was accounted for. She sets aside a long-sleeved shirt and her sleep shorts and puts the rest of it away in her bag. Her bag was dry, but it smelled like it also needed to be washed. She puts her bag on the ground and then made her way to the bathroom to change.

“Want to come with me to the guy’s room? They got food, I’m starving, and you’re probably starving,” Frank asked as soon as she walked out of the room.

As if on cue, Ellie’s tummy growled.

“Ha, yeah,” she nods happily.

“Hey!” Everyone cheers when the two walk in from the bathroom.

“How are you feeling Elliot?” Ray asks.

She sneezes, and looks pointedly at Ray.

“Eh, better,” she lies and smiles, “Thanks for doing my laundry, and um folding it…”

“You’re welcome!” he replies completely oblivious to her uneasiness.

She just laughs.

“We got human food and rabbit food for Frank,” Bob says.

“Rabbit food huh?” Ellie smirks and looks at Frank.

“He’s a vegetarian, and he’s lactose intolerant,” Gerard enlightens.

“Lactose in-can tolerant,” Ellie corrects.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ellie diverts her eyes blushing lightly.

“He also has the immune system of a fucking peach,” Mikey cuts in.

“And I have issues?” Elliot crosses her arms and sticks out her hip.

“Ellie, you just got out of the hospital for a bruise the size of Montana on your side, you were nearly killed by some crazy pimps-in-training, you ran-away from home, you’re sick, you’re allergic to just about every routine pain medicine and strawberries, and you have a serious trust issue—Ellie, you have some problems too,” Frank laughs.

Elliot sticks her tongue out at him.

“We have pizza if you want some Ellie,” Ray perks up.

Frank and Gerard exchange a look, then they both look at Elliot who was grinning, they both then look at Ray.

“What, you called her it; I don’t think she would mind.”

“I don’t mind, you can all call me ‘Ellie’, I figure you all have your nick-names, so ‘Ellie’ is mine,” she says, “What’s Gerard’s?” she asks brightly.

“Gee,” Frank says.

“So Gee, Frankie, Mikey, Ray, and Bob?”

They all nod.

“Okay,” she smiles and accepts the pizza from Ray and sits on a bed next to Frank.
Half an hour later, Elliot was stuffed with pizza and was laying horizontally on the bed that Gerard and Mikey shared; Frank was lying next to her. They were watching the other’s play video games. Curses and empty threats filled the room, a soundtrack to the comfortable silence between the other two.

Elliot’s mind wasn’t silent though, she felt guilty that Frank and Gerard had spent one of their rare days off in the Unhappiest Place on Fucking Planet Earth.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot mumbled.

“For what?” Franked turned and looked at her.

“For making you and Gerard spend your day there, the hospital fucking sucks, I wouldn’t want to spend my day off there,” she admits.

“Ellie, all we were going to do was stay in the hotel all day and play video games and argue about who gets to make the next pot of coffee, we don’t exactly party on our days off because they’re meant to relax, don’t worry about us, worry about your injury,” Frank waves it off, “Relax, doze, don’t fret, okay?” Frank smiles and pats Elliot’s arm.

I’m just going to sleep.

She dreams of cotton balls and cars. Of a pair of shorts that were once jeans, the front yard of her house at home, the sidewalk, the humidity of Massachusetts in the middle of fucking May, her dread of another fucking day at a school she couldn’t stand, of the cross walk, of the screeching of tires.
Of her own screams…

And just like that, Ellie was asleep for the night.

-==-

An hour later, Ellie managed to fall asleep. Amongst the cheering, the yelling, the constant chattering, she was clocked out for the night. Frank just watched her sleep; she had curled herself into a small ball of limbs and blond hair. Her shirt had ridden up, exposing a sliver of skin—she was fucking whiter than he thought. Her face was relaxed, yet tense at the same time, her eyes under her eyelids rapidly moving.

She’s dreaming… I wonder what she dreams of.

“Is she asleep?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah,” Frank says looking away from Ellie’s sleeping face, “I’m going to take her to our room,” Frank mumbles before getting himself out of the bed, “Mikey, get the door please,” he whispers as he gathers Ellie into his arms.

She doesn’t even stir.

He walks through the bathroom and walks into their room. He sets Ellie down on her bed and tucks her in. He sighs, and lays a small kiss on her forehead.

As much as Frank would like disagree, he felt something for the girl. He just didn’t know what. He didn’t know if he should protect her or seduce her, it made their relationship, still in its infancy, a little scary because he knew almost next to nothing about the girl. But something was overwhelmingly there telling him that he knew nothing, however he knew one thing for sure…

Why did she freak out when the doctor introduced herself?

Why is she so small?

Why did she really run away from home?

Goddamn Frank, you know nothing, yet you know one thing for sure…

She is broken, and it’s up to you fix her.