Hospitals, it always ends in a hospital. Any time he gets lonely, I end up in the hospital, and this time, anemia keeps me frozen stiff. The unsettling white coverings that are all over the room infect my mind, and keep me awake. A combination of lack of sleep and anemia keep me in a strange caffeine driven daze. Any time a nurse asks me what I want, I want coffee. The one explanation I offer, is that I am afraid to sleep in a hospital.

"Keep her pinned!" I hear shouted above me as I am held to the ground by two brute hands. I try to fight back, and one of the hands is removed from my wrist, only to slam against my cheek. I hear the charge before I feel it. The cattle prod sends several thousands of volts through my body, burning my neck where it is being applied. In the early years, I would have pleaded for mercy, but today all I have is cold acceptance. I know the routine. I will be beaten within an inch of my life if I am lucky, or he will rape me. I feel my pants being clawed at, and I fear it is the latter.

I jolt from my shallow daze with a chill bursting down my spine. "Why..." I mutter to myself, "why is it always that dream... that... memory..." I rub my wrist, remembering the chains that held me the last time, and the burns that were inflicted there.

"Why don't I speak up?" I ask myself. I already know the answer. If I were to speak up, he would be even worse to me. The door opens.

"Oh good, you are awake. Can I get you anything miss Parker?" the nurse says.

"Coffee." is my one word response. I must have more caffeine in my system than the combined amount of all other fourteen year old children on the Earth.

"Miss Parker, I think you have had enough caffeine for the rest of the week." the nurse responds.

"I don't want to fall asleep again... the nightmares are too much." I manage to say through choked back tears.

"I understand. Would you like anything to eat with that?" she asks as I continue looking down.

"I guess so... do you have any pickles?" I ask. I am not sure why I say pickles, but it is the first food that comes to mind.

"Yes, I will bring you some pickles with your... coffee." the nurse responds. What am I, crazy? I just asked for pickles and coffee. I need therapy. The nurse exits the room, and I run my fingers through my long mess of hair. I wish my mother had survived the plane crash, everything would be so much easier with her around. Wishful thinking has never gotten me anywhere, and it wont help here, either. I try to sit up, but collapse back down to the bed in exhaustion.

I feel a solitary tear roll down my bruised cheek as he stands over me, looking at the bloodied mess he has created while he zips up his pants. My hands are chaffed by the cuffs, and my scalp is throbbing from the previous yanking of my hair. I get all this for trying to tell him enough is enough, I get all this for doing the smallest thing wrong. I don't understand. I don't understand how someone can treat their own daughter this way. I feel blood pooling under me from a large gash in my naked side, and consciousness flees from me.

"Dammit!" I slam my fist into the side of the hospital bed. I dozed off again. It hurts. My hand throbs from the sudden impact, and so does my head. The door opens, and the nurse walks in, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of pickles. She sets the tray down, and I thank her. I immediately take a large gulp from the coffee, and, even though the taste is bitter and revolting, take another, feeling the caffeine stimulate my senses. The head ache eases. I pick up one of the small pickles, and stare at it. Why the hell did I choose pickles? Pickles do not go with coffee at all. I bite into the pickle, the sour taste burning my slightly scorched taste buds. I finish my coffee, and not a minute later, the nurse returns.

"The test results are back." she sighs.

"Tests? What tests?" I ask.

"Well, the doctor said there were signs of sexual assault, so he took the liberty of running a pregnancy test. I hope you don't mind." she looks slightly awkward.

"It's fine... the last thing I need is an unexpected child." I murmur. "What are the results?" I am nervous, but show it only slightly.

"Negative, you are not pregnant." she sounds relieved, as if it is her first time reading the results herself.

"Good... the last thing I would ever want are his kids. Damn rapist." I mutter darkly. My hair falls into my face, dramatizing the entire conversation.

"Oh... would you like to talk about it?" the nurse's look of pity pierces me, and I feel self pity well inside.

"No... I wont... I can't..." I manage to say, choking back tears again.

"I understand. This happens more than you think."

"I understand, but this happens more than you think." I hear him whisper in my ear as he beats me to the ground. Ever since my mother died, he has progressively become more and more of a monster. He says he gets 'lonely' and needs me to 'comfort' him. Not by my consent. His heavy foot crushes my hand, and my head is yanked up by the hair. I cry out in pain. He shouts something I do not catch, and my face is dropped back into the cold hard ground, busting my lip open. I cry out in pain as blood fills my mouth.

"Don't worry my little girl, I will never let anybody hurt you..." he says as he begins to peel my clothing off.

"Miss Parker? Are you all right?" the nurse asks me.

"I-I'm fine... just... flashbacks to the last time I heard those words." I say, putting my finger to the scar on my lip.

"I'm sorry... should I schedule something with your counselor for you?"

"N-no... that... wont be necessary."

"Now, what seems to be the problem, miss Parker?" the counselor asks me. I am staring at my hands when I reply.

"My father..." my hands twist and contort the piece of paper.

"What about him?" the counselor pushes.

"I... don't want to talk about it." the paper tears.

"Are you sure?" the counselor seems a little too curious.

"It would only cause unneeded pain." I explain bitterly.

"Miss Parker, you do realize I am quite good friends with your father." the counselor more of states than asks.

"N-no... I did not know that..." I am shocked.

"That means you also would not know that I fully endorse what he is doing." the counselor's eyes darken. I feel my eyes shoot wide as saucers. The counselor pins my to the chair with his burly arms, and begins to tear both of our clothes off.

"No!" I scream in defiance.

"Miss Parker? Are you sure you are ok?" the nurse presses a little.

"Yeah... well, no, not really. I am in some deep shit." I blurt out.

"I kind of figured." the nurse sighs. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you're a cop." I murmur, taking a few minutes to realize how screwed I really am.

"Well, I am not a cop, but if there is anything I can do to help, please tell me." the nurse places a comforting hand on my slumped shoulder. I feel a tear roll down my cheek, followed by several others.

"My little Kendra... have I ever told you how much I love you?" she says, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Don't go, mommy." I sob. She walks to the entrance of the plane.

"I'm sorry, sweety, but I have to. I'll be back in two days, be good for daddy." she waves as she climbs into the small vehicle of flight.

"Bye bye mommy." a tear drop wells out of my eye. My father's cumbersome hand pats me on the head. It hurts.

"I-It's been a long time... since anyone has actually been nice to me..." tear drops continue flooding out of my eyes. The nurse wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace.

"I don't know the circumstances, but I can tell you one thing; I have never met a fourteen year old who has been through half as much as you have." I hug her back. It feels nice, to be cared about.

"I... can't thank you enough..." I continue to sob, as we keep hugging.

"Seeing you smile would be good enough for me." she says. It is weird, she is very similar to my mother, but younger. A buzzer goes off, and she leaves the room, muttering her goodbye. I doze off.

"Are you sure?" I ask as he leads me into their bedroom.

"Yes sweety, I am sure." he says as he pushes me onto the bed. It hurts a little, but I expect him to be rough. I had a nightmare earlier, and my father is comforting enough tonight, even though he has been going through a rough patch since mommy died. I slide under the covers and begin to doze, and he hits me for the first time. His fist flies into my side, not hard, but hard enough to fling me off the bed.

"Ouch, daddy... why did you do that?" I sniffle. He says nothing. I am roughly pulled back onto the bed by my arms, and he throws me across it. I fly head first into the bedpost, and he begins to tie me to it.

"Daddy, why?" I cry out as his hand pushes roughly on my back. It is then I notice the inhuman glean in his eyes. He begins to frantically slide my clothes off.

I awake from the slumber in a cold sweat, and tears pouring out of my eyes. I am shaken by sobs of grief. I have always had terrible nightmares whenever I sleep, but have never had one of the fist time, until now. I cringe as the dream passes back through my mind, every excruciating detail painstakingly clear. Suddenly, I feel my mouth is extremely dry. I look around the room for something to drink, and see nothing. I push the call button on the bed. A couple of minutes later, a different nurse than the last time comes in, and asks me what I need. I ask for water. In a couple of moments, she is placing a glass of water into my hand, which I gratefully sip. My hand is shaking as I set the glass down on the table next to my hospital bed, and I fall back into the cushion of the pillows. The ceiling is quite crumbly. My eyes strain to stay open and, after a couple of moments, I succumb to sleep.

"Quick, hide the evidence!" I hear whispered as my bloodied body is heaved atop someone's shoulder. My father scurries to the area where he and the one carrying me had previously raped and beaten me, and cleans it up of all the blood and utensils. My back stings where I was lashed, and my naked body is being tossed into the street to be run over by one of the many passing cars.

"Just... kill me." I manage to mutter as I am placed gently on the asphalt.

"No. We want to... need to have more fun with you." my head throbs as what my previous therapist said processes trough my drugged brain. My consciousness begins to slip just as I hear the sirens approach.

I awake shivering. I pull the sheets closer to me to sooth my freezing body, and my dream begins to reprocess through my head.

"Why..." is all I manage to mutter before breaking into tears again. I don't sob, but the tears just keep flowing. I guess it is about time. My hand wipes across my face, and the nurse enters.

"Hello again, miss Parker. Do you need anything?" she asks me.

"Well, I would ask for more coffee, but I think you would decline me the luxury of sleep deprivation." I smile. My hands are slightly shaky as I adjust myself to an upright position.

"You are correct, miss Parker. I think the best thing for you now is to get some rest. The doctor says your father will be here to pick up your release forms in about an hour, so I suggest you get some rest before then." she informs me. I feel my eyes widen with fear, even though I try to control it, I feel another tear welling in my eye. I choke it back.

"Damn it... now that you told me that, I'll never get to sleep... which is a good thing, I guess." I mumble my response. I guess my face says what I refuse to, because it seems it all clicks to the nurse.

"You don't mean... oh no!" she says in surprise. I simply nod my answer.

"But you didn't hear it from me. I don't want to die." I plead.

"My lips are sealed, but you really should find someone to help... this problem wont solve itself. Have you considered contacting the police?" she asks worriedly.

"Yeah... and I did once... they didn't believe me. I've tried everything, to no avail. Everyone either disregards me as an over-dramatic teenager, or couldn't find enough evidence. I guess that is the problem with having a father with a forensics degree, there is no evidence." I dig my hands into the pillow behind me, trying hard not to cry.

"Wow... I've heard of father troubles, but nothing this bad... here," she says as she reaches for a piece of paper, and scribbles something down on it, and proceeds to hand it to me, "on this paper, is my home phone number, my cell phone number, and my e -mail. If you ever need help, or just want to talk, I will be there for you." she says, placing her hand on my shoulder. I feel tears trying to force their ways out of my eyes for the umpteenth time, but I manage to hold them back.

"Thank you... really, I don't know how to thank you enough." I say shakily.

"Just worry about recovering, I'll leave you to sleep. Oh, and you can change into your clothes now, I don't think you want to stay in a hospital gown all day." she says, walking out of the door. I shakily make my way to the restroom and change back in to my bloodied tee shirt and ripped pants. It isn't the best look for me, and the mirror proves it. I see a young girl with a still relatively swollen face covered in scrapes and bruises, tangled dirty-blonde hair falling down on her shoulders, extremely bloodshot innocent blue eyes, and a blood stained pale blue shirt. I exit the restroom, and slump back down into my hospital bed, exhaustion nipping at my eyelids, trying to force them closed. After several minutes of fighting, sleep overtakes me.

"Kendra? Why were you not in school for the past week? Where were you?" my second grade teacher asks me. I look down in shame.

"The hospital." I mumble.

"Where? Speak up, child." the teacher speaks stridently.

"I was in the hospital." I mumble again, only slightly louder.

"Why were you in the hospital, honey?" the teacher asks me in the same chiding tone.

"I...I..." I stutter, hiding my face in shame.

"Go on, child. We are all waiting." the teacher continues to chide, waving her hand towards the entire class, putting unbelievable pressure on a child as small as I. I am scared, and I do what children do when they are scared. I cry. I break into tears in front of my entire class, and in front of my teacher. She pats my shoulder in a meaningless gesture and leads me out of the room. I am shocked to realize that she is taking me to the bathroom. She guides me into a stall, and then begins to claw my clothes off.

I awake to some moderate noise in the hall, but I ignore it to regale myself on what just processed through my subconscious. It is strange, remembering that day... it is as if that memory had been locked away, hidden from my memory until now. I think it may be my way of informing myself to trust no one, not even my newly befriended nurse. There is a knock on the door, and then it swiftly opens to reveal my father, his face not displaying his mood. I can tell his mood whenever he wordlessly yanks me off the hospital bed, and out the door. Everything flashes by as I am dragged to the car, the doctors, the nurses, all with gaping mouths as I am dragged past them. We reach the car, and he tosses me in. He jumps into the drivers seat, and says the first sentence since he finished me last.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard." my father says to me, showing no emotion. Oh shit. Shit shit shit. This is not good. He is never this prompt to return. Something must be wrong. I'm going to die. I don't want to die! I know where he hides it, the gun I mean. I reach for the glove compartment as he leans over to me, dangerously veering into the other lane. I feel the latch in my hand. It pops open, and I am greeted by cold steel.

Bang.

It's over.