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I stare helplessly, numb to the world around me. This is why Charlie can’t be on her own. Well, this and other reasons. She can’t stop herself from seeing what she sees, can’t control the way it rips through her body. She’ll come down from this and be okay. She always does, but it takes a lot out of her. Then will come the weariness of constantly having to be on guard, unable to trust or touch another person.
The ambulance arrives a few minutes later. The paramedics rush inside. They take one look at Charlie and work on her immediately. Their movements are quick and precise.
I watch them in a daze, barely registering what’s happening. All I can think about is Charlie lying there on the floor. Helpless and vulnerable. My mind returns to finding her in that dumpster earlier. The idea that she thinks this is what she deserves.
For weeks, I’ve told the world she’s my sister. While that’s a lie, I don’t lack any love for her. I’d be lucky to have her as a sister. I certainly would never let anyone hurt her. Not the way she’s been hurt in the past, not the way people want to hurt her now. I’m ill-equipped to care for her myself, but if she were my sister, I would do everything in my power to keep a safe roof over her head. As her caregiver, I’m determined to find her a safe home with parents who love her and will fight for her.
Knowing she’s not mine doesn’t make me worry about her less. She’s one of the worst cases I’ve come across. The amount of neglect and abuse she’s endured in her life is horrific. Most adults don’t understand her. They think she’s to blame for the accidents that happen around her. They punish her for what they don’t understand.
The paramedics wait until the seizure has passed before they move her little body onto a stretcher. They carry her out. I follow, my feet moving of their own volition. One paramedic stops me to ask questions about her. The lies slip out of my mouth easily—she’s my sister. No, I’ve never seen her have a seizure before. Our parents are dead and I’m waiting on the courts to grant me full custody.
These are the lies I tell to keep Charlie. Unfortunately, very few ask questions. Their plates are full enough without worrying about a sick orphan with a helpful sister. It allows us to slip under the radar. It’s the only way I can get her the help she needs. The paramedic takes my name and allows me to follow in my car. Here we go again.
I arrive at the hospital for my shift, bracing myself for the long day. Every shift is long. It’s harder, though, after a good night’s sleep. The restfulness will be stolen in a matter of minutes. I’m paged to consult on a seemingly easy case, which annoys me. Just because I’m the chief of surgery doesn’t mean I need to be consulted on everything that comes in. I swear, these new kids have no idea what the hell they’re doing.
I walk into the room and see a small girl in the bed. Something is vaguely familiar about her, but I’ve never seen her before. She has the kind of face I wouldn’t forget. It’s pale and haunted, with an air of wisdom much too old for her. Her dark eyes peer into mine, threatening not to let go. Like she’s challenging me to a battle.
Part of me wonders if I’ve been paged because this girl is spooky. I seem to be the first person who gets notified when a patient is slightly odd. I smile at the girl and take her vitals. She doesn’t speak to me, only stares with her dark, calculating eyes. She doesn’t smile. She’s definitely a tough nut to crack.
I look at the attending doctor with an expression of annoyance. Besides her demeanor, I find absolutely nothing wrong with the girl. Her vitals are perfectly normal, not even an elevated heartbeat.
“Dr. Talon, please update me on the state of Miss…” I look at her chart. “Smith.”
“Miss Smith was brought after collapsing at a diner in an active seizure. When I performed a routine check on her, I found nothing to suggest anything is wrong with her.”
I roll my eyes. Incompetent child. He probably only became a doctor to please his overbearing father. He clearly has no real medical skills.
“Miss Smith,” I say, addressing the young girl.
“Charlie,” she shoots back, not letting me finish my thought.
I smile at her wryly. She’s a spitfire.
“Charlie, then,” I amend. “Are you having any headaches? Tiredness? Muscle soreness?”
“No,” she answers simply and coldly, as if I asked her if she wants to eat a big bowl of peas.
“At least she’s speaking to you,” Dr. Talon whispers to me. “She’s been completely mute. Her caregiver isn’t here yet. Orphan,” he whispers through gritted teeth.
I can’t tell if Dr. Talon pities the girl or is disgusted by her. If my original assessment of him is correct, it’s probably the latter. He’s likely never experienced any level of inequality before this job.
“I’m fine,” she tells us, as if she heard his hushed conversation. “I’m not an orphan. My parents aren’t dead. They just hate me.”
At that moment, I hear the squeak of tennis shoes and turn to see a frazzled woman barreling into the room.
“That isn’t true, Charlie,” the woman says in a very tight, clipped tone. “I’m sorry about my sister,” the woman says, turning to Dr. Talon and me. “She tends to lie.”
A wave of irritation pulses through me as I see Dr. Talon look the woman up and down appreciatively. She is a beautiful woman, with wild brown curls piled in a messy bun and piercing blue eyes that seem to beg for… something. Help or hope, I can’t say. Those eyes unsettle me more than the dark, careful eyes of the little girl. I’ve seen them before.
“Well, Miss Smith,” I say to the woman. “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with your sister. I’m going to suggest Dr. Talon begins the process of discharge.”
She looks at me with panic in her eyes. As Dr. Talon approaches Charlie, the woman screams for him to be careful. She’s too late. The minute Dr. Talon touches Charlie, she begins convulsing, entering another active seizure. I move the man aside, to his gratitude. He’s clearly out of his depth. I move to hold her down so she doesn’t injure herself while she convulses, but the woman stops me.
“If you touch her, it’ll be worse,” she hisses at me.
I look at them both curiously, waiting for the episode to pass.
CHAPTERFOUR
