Armand Thirteen: Healing Wounds

Guest Starring: Two Police Officers made by MrsOogieBoogie

I held onto the railing of the physical therapy bars while trying to move my legs at a normal pace. My doctor told me I hadn't woken up right away after my surgery to fix my internal bleeding, despite the fact that all my head CTs had come back clear. I had been kept under observation for a week to make sure I didn't develop a brain bleed from my dad kicking me in the head that night. After that, I still hadn't woken up, so they kept me in the hospital to make sure my ribs and wrist were healing, and to make sure my back wounds didn't get infected since some of the cuts were very deep. Finally, a month later, I opened my eyes. My body had physically healed from all its severe bruising, so my doctor sent me to a rehabilitation clinic. Today marked the day when I was supposed to get up and walk around so that I could relearn normal function. Laying in bed for a month had caused my muscles to become weak and even though they weren't completely atrophied, they were definitely tired and unwilling to support my weight without a bar to hang on to.

I can't really walk that well, and even standing seems to be a challenge. I am very glad my physical therapist Dylan is there to catch me when I undoubtedly fall. I wonder what Armand is doing today, and I wish that I could see him. I'm unsure though because as much as I want to see him, I don't want him to see me like this. I know that he's already seen me get bullied, so I'm not really afraid of him thinking I'm weak, since I'm fairly certain he already knows that. I just feel like with my newfound romantic feelings for him, it's making me really care about what he might want, and I don't want him to feel like I'm just a pain in his ass, someone that he has to fix because she's always fucked up. I know this is temporary and that I will regain full mobility since nothing is broken, and it's just a matter of my muscles remembering how to work again, but I still feel like if Armand saw me at this stage in my life, he would think less of me, like I was an inconvenience somehow? I'm having trouble finding the balance between standing up for myself and feeling defeated when I do. So far trying to do that has resulted in me getting beaten up twice.

"Okay, Desiree, that was really good, you walked pretty far for your first time. It'll get easier, I promise. We should do some stretches now, though."

My mother told me she visited everyday while I was in a coma, or so she says, since I didn't actually know what was happening around me. I believe her though, since I know that she loves me. She told me that Tracy and Samuel have been taken out of her custody because of what happened to me, and I have been feeling depressed about it. I caused my mom to endure the heartache of her children being taken away from her, all because I chose to disobey my dad. She keeps telling me that it's not my fault and that she's not mad at me, but I don't know that I believe her. After being punished so often, sometimes I wonder if it's even worth not submitting to dad like my whole family does.

Mom has been going through a custody hearing, where the law will determine whether she gets to keep raising Tracy and Samuel or if they'll permanently be placed in the foster care system. Dad has been going through a criminal hearing because the police said they had evidence that he beat me up so much I could have died. I don't know what will happen with that, but I know my family is permanently broken, and I feel completely responsible. I think I am at rock bottom today, and it's not a good place to be.

*Beep beep*

My phone made a notification sound just as I got done with my stretches, and I made my way over to one of the walls for support. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that the text was from Armand. A wave of panic came over me because of all the insecurities I had just been thinking about. I wanted to respond to him, but my fingers seemed to have forgotten how to work. Just at that moment, Dylan came over to take me back to my room. Responding to Armand was going to have to wait, and part of me was relieved.

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I stared at my phone, hoping that Desiree would answer my text. Sometimes I hated my phone app because I knew when she had seen the message, but then she wouldn't reply, and it would drive me crazy. Did she just hate me now or something because I kept pushing her to stand up to her father when she wasn't ready? Thanks, Mom, for teaching me to believe all these insecurities about myself. UGH.

"Are you waiting for those three dots to appear?"

Remy's voice knocked me out of my thoughts, and I suddenly remembered we were standing in front of the MuShu Dragon, our favorite Chinese restaurant.

"Yes. Do you think I should just give up? Maybe her not talking to me is a sign that she actually doesn't want to talk to me."

"I wouldn't give up on her, but I do think maybe you need a break, like something to take your mind off of the fact that she isn't talking to you. You know how when you need to find something, and you look and look, and you can't find it, but the second you forget about it and stop looking, it falls right in your lap?"

"Yes. I suppose you're right. I have kind of been obsessing, haven't I?"

"Yeah dude, a lot."

Remy laughed, and I chuckled along with him, knowing that he was right. I think my connection to Desiree was amplified because I felt like I was helping her the more I talked to her. Now that our connection had been interrupted, I felt like something was wrong. I don't know why I felt so strongly, I mean, it's not like I was her boyfriend or anything, but I did know she felt alone a lot of times, and I liked being needed, especially since my mom had made me feel so worthless all the time.

"I'm sorry if I've been a wierdo lately. I don't know why I'm so hung up on Desiree."

"Do you have a crush on her?"

"Not really. She's not my type, she's just a really good friend. I think I'm just wierded out because we used to talk a lot and now it's just tapered off. I think I'd feel the same way if all of a sudden you and I stopped talking with no explanation, you know?"

"Ahh yeah, I get that completely."

"How's the job hunting? Still looking like a desert?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking that I might actually open my options. Any time I look for jobs, I think I only look for what's interesting, so maybe I'm shooting myself in the foot. I need to stop being so petty about having a fun job. I think I'm jealous that you found something that fits you perfectly, and I'm over here just floundering."

"Oh, Armand, it's not a competition. It's okay. I like your idea though, just apply for a job somewhere you don't mind hanging out at all day. What about the comic book store? Maybe then you can bump into Desiree again, and you won't have to keep staring at your phone and obsessing over whether you'll see the three dots appear?"

"Wow, that's actually a really good idea, Remy, thanks for suggesting it. I don't know why I didn't think of it."

"Aww, it's okay, I'm just glad I could help. I know the comic book store lets you experience your artistic side, maybe working there will inspire you to paint even more awesome things."

I knew Remy was right, and I was going to take his advice the next day. My mom's voice was strong in my head today for some reason, and I heard her telling me I wasn't good enough at art and that's why I was not getting hired for any artistic jobs. 'Why are you such a difficult child?!' My thoughts drifted to the day I told her I hated her because she had taken me to a hair salon to cut my hair short. I know that's why I wear it long now, I am making up for what was taken away from me as a kid. In a lot of ways, I felt like I had a lot of growing up to do. I was definitely not feeling 22 in my heart, I felt like I was stuck with my mom lording herself over me. I wondered if I should see a therapist, but then again, I knew my parents had gone to counseling, and it didn't seem to have helped them worth a damn.

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Author's Note: The two officers here are supposed to be the same ones in the previous chapter, but their CC went missing in the five years I neglected both my game, and this story, so with MrsOB's permission, I was able to make the officers look decent again, but they do look a little different.

The New Orleans Police Department was a buzz as two officers and a prosecutor argued whether or not to charge Dale Butchet for the assault on his daughter. The two officers were the ones who had recently arrested the well known priest after an anonymous tip came in from an eyewitness to the alleged assault.

"I don't know if we have a case. He's a man of the cloth."

"Come on, Lauren. You can't be serious... Surely, you read our police report. I don't give a shit what his job is! The guy beat up his own fucking daughter on his own front porch in broad daylight!"

"It's not because I'm of the opinion that he should be pardoned. The man is scum. I'm just saying a jury might not turn on the community priest, so why waste my time trying the case when there are so many others waiting? I'd rather prosecute a case where someone actually got murdered."

"Wow. So you're just looking for a win, Counselor? Really?! It's our job to protect the people of New Orleans, and you're telling me that this person parading around in a priest's outfit can use his position as an excuse to be an absolute asshole?! Jesus Christ."

"Sorry, Lauren, I'm in agreement with my partner. It is true Butchet never killed anyone--"

"--That we know of."



"Jesus, Jake. Calm down. As I was saying, Butchet never killed anyone, but it's evident he's pretty unstable if he's willingly putting his own daughter in the hospital. Where's the justice for her? Does she have to die for you to care?"

Prosecutor Lauren Cazelton sighed heavily, thinking quickly of a solution that might give her a chance in hell of convincing a jury to convict a Catholic priest.




"You say in your police report that there was an eyewitness account, but that it was anonymous. Do you know why they tried to remain anonymous?"

"Obviously church gossip spreads, my guess is they didn't want to be seen as a tattle tale. No devout churchgoer wants to be the one who turned against their priest."

"Okay, is there any way you can find this witness?"

"Yeah, we can definitely do some research."

"It's a long shot, but if you can find me this anonymous witness, and convince them to testify, then I will charge Dale Butchet with aggravated assault."

"Aggravated assault?! He kicked his daughter in the fucking head! You don't kick someone in the head if you only intend to hurt them. You kick someone in the head because you want them off this planet!"

"How about aggravated assault with one count of reckless endangerment because he had no regard for what he was doing?"

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Unless you can get Dale Butchet to confess that he wanted to kill his daughter, I have no cause to up the charge to attempted murder. He didn't have a weapon, and the victim is his own daughter. The familial relation is the problem. People always have a hard time believing that family would actually kill each other, no matter how many times it happens. Juries are hard to convince, not to mention his priest status."

"Wait, there's one more thing, Lauren. Marilyn Butchet also gave us a statement saying that her and her two younger children were abused for years. She stayed in the marriage out of fear. You know, typical abusive spouse syndrome. However, if she can testify, that would help too, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, if she testifies to openly seeing her husband beat her other children, as well as prove that she herself was beaten then I can add child and spousal abuse to the charges."

"Looks like we got our work cut out for us, Jake."

"We better get on it, then."