Curled Up and Hidden

AUTHOR: Sylvia
RATING: PG. <Language and Violence>
ARCHIVE: Please please please email me!
DISCLAIMER: You people know the drill... These are not my characters, they are NBC, Warner Bros.... yadda yadda yadda...I just borrow and return...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I was bored. Really really bored. And I started typing. I have no clue where this one came from. It probably just picks up in some random place randomly. Anyways if at least one person emails me wanting a prologue fic or an epilogue fic, I'll do it!!! It's summer break remember?...
SUMMARY: Abby relives a childhood memory...

She had never felt more alone in her life. She had been through so much already, but this was the worst. She was locked up in the psyche ward. The room was painted a deathly graying-blue. Bars covered the windows. Cameras in two of the four walls, watching her every move. But that's the catch: she didn't move. All that was seen was the steady rise and fall of her chest, her body curled up in the most natural, most comfortable position. Her legs were pulled up to her chest, like a baby in its womb, head tucked in. Tears streamed her hopeless face. Lost brown eyes looked for something to care about. She didn't talk. Not even a motion. What was going through her mind was completely different. "He said he hated me. He said he wished I had died." The one person she thought she could believe in, the one person that said he would never leave. Not a surprise.

She heard the door click and felt a presence in the room with her. She knew they were talking to her, but she didn't care. The words were jumbled and she didn't feel like sorting them out. She began to close her eyes, and immediately the surroundings attacked her. Maggie had been in a similar place. Maggie. Mom. Mother. Mama. Ma. Mommy. She wasn't a mother. Maggie had never tried to fix her. She hadn't cared enough. Hid.

She walked into her room, the scent of alcohol emitted from her, who stood 10 feet away. Or even more. She cradled her brother, Erik, in her lap. She was 7 years old, he was 2. A crying baby. He wouldn't shut up. Please Erik Please! Shut up! She saw her mother's face. The dark circles, musseled hair, and streaming blood and tears. Her voice clearly violent and demanding. "Abby! You worthless bitch! Shut him the hell up!" Her shhh's and soothing songs did nothing. Abby knew he would get hurt soon. "Erik... Erik.. Shhhh..." She saw a bright light, then the pain engulfed her. Maggie's hand aiming for Erik, Abby's fragile body guarding him. The bruises she could see forming, even in the pale moonlight. She was getting madder by the minute. Her blows made Abby lightheaded and she couldn't hold herself up. Maggie's hand delivered one more blow, rendering her defenseless. Maggie ripped her out of the bed, onto the hard wooden floor, and kicked her in her already painful back. She saw her throw the blankets off the bed, and take Erik by his arm. She yanked him out and threw him against the dresser. "Shut up! Shut up!" Erik finally passed out. His little fragile body couldn't take it anymore. Maggie still wasn't done. Abby began to carefully pick herself up and limp along to the bathroom to see the extent of her injuries.

"Abby! Abby!" Running through the kitchen, Abby saw her loving mother grab a knife. A butcher knife her father used to cut up dinner veggies and meats with. "Abby! You bitch! Come here or I'll kill you!" Abby had seen this before. If she didn't take her meds, her artwork wouldn't flourish. Abby hid behind a curtain. It was a cat-and-mouse game now. Her mom finally found her. Her heart beating a thousand times per second. "Come to mommy, Abby!" She felt her arm begin to sting. Her mother's nails digging deeply into her skin. "Bitch! You don't deserve to live!" The knife grazed her skin, her mother's grip becoming tighter. She saw her short life flash before her eyes, the knife's blade digging into her skin. She felt the blood rushing down her throat, onto her chest.

Finally she turned to her last defense. She kicked. She aimed for every part she could reach. Her mother screamed out in pain, letting Abby go. She ran. Ran like her life depended on it. It did. She hid in a small cramped closet, locking the door behind her. The knife grazed her three more times, its blade going through the cheap wooden door. She stayed there. Curled up much like she was right now. She couldn't deal with it anymore. She felt like she locked herself in her own closet again. No one can hurt her when she's shut out. Alone. She didn't need anyone. She was so lost in her own world, her own thoughts, that she never noticed the hand on her shoulder, the quiet soothing voice... "Here, give me the needle..." Abby felt a small prick at her arm. She turned her head around, and looked into his brown eyes. She saw his dark musseled hair and strong arms. "Luka, please... Nothing.. I don't want anything..." She saw his expression change. From serious to compassion and pain. "Abby, your white count is still elevated. Your blood's not clotting." She had given up all hope. "Please. I don't want anything." He looked like he was going to cry. "I just gave you Haldol. Now here, take these." He handed her the two pills. "One is an antidepressant. The other Tylenol." She swallowed the Tylenol. Handed the blue pill back to him. "Abby, Carter's here. He wants to see you." She looked at him in disbelief. What was she supposed to do???

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