>>5145409Slashing away at her phone, its synthesized voice answers your original question: “I didn’t remember anything of that night until Grandpa came to visit… with Bruckmann.”
Both names make you flinch a bit.
“Not who I’d like ta’ see after wakin’ from a coma…” Ly whispers.
“The latter informed me that I had been assaulted–and that while my damages were exceptionally heinous, the attacker would remain anonymous and would receive no punishment.” The red-haired girl glares at you as her body starts to tremble. “‘<span class="mu-i">Pre-Existing Psychological Conditions</span>’, they told me.”
The words stab your heart like a spear–so you got off free because-
“Because you had no recollection of the events either.” Christy confirms. “Your history of blackouts was confirmed when you were hired by several of your past medical examiners. Bruckmann informed me that their hands were tied.”
So, you mumble, still processing the details, what happened next?
“What usually happens in those situations.” The phone drones. “A downward spiral. Bruckmann informed me that my job was still on the table if I wanted it, then left. As for grandpa…”
You sigh–there probably wasn’t anything left of that hospital room, was there? Christy shakes her head.
“The room was untouched, but he…” She pauses to adjust her glasses. “He must have waited hours for my parents to arrive. I later learned that they were there in the hospital, but they didn’t want anything to do with him. Not then, and not ever.”
You bite your lip in response. Let me guess: they blamed <span class="mu-i">him</span>. Another nod.
“Grandpa was on-duty at that party–he’d been doing it for years.” The phone confirms. “It seems weird, I know, but Grandpa… if he doesn’t have structure or a purpose, well,” more typing. “He’d have broken down ages ago.”
Puzzle pieces fall like raindrops in your head. So when she was assaulted-
“He visited me every day during my recovery.” Christy adds, biting her lip as the phone continues to explain. “It was always the same routine: I’d hear the creak of a door, see him peering through the crack, and then he’d pull up a chair and sit.”
A soft sigh escapes her lips. “And for the rest of the day he’d just sit there–never speaking, never even <span class="mu-i">looking</span> at me.” The girl winces in pain as she swallows a lump in her throat. “My grandpa: the strongest, bravest, most caring man I’d ever known had been <span class="mu-i">defeated</span>.”
Tapping away at her phone, she pauses for a moment before letting it play. “And it was all because of <span class="mu-i">you</span>.”
>CONTD. 