Broken Doll

Broken nose. Broken ribs. Broken toes. Broken wrist. Black eye. Gunshot wound to right shoulder. More cuts and bruises than anybody cared to count.

It was no wonder why she was still aching and sore after spending the last week in the infirmary. Her right arm was resting in a sling, her right wrist was stuck in a black splint, and she had stitches in her shoulder where the bullet had punched through skin and muscle. There were bandages around her head, legs, arms, and torso from where she'd rolled around in the glass, her left foot was in a black medical boot from her three broken toes. There was an ice pack resting on the dark bruises on her bare midriff where she'd pulled her shirt up, and if all that wasn't enough, she was being forced to wear a nose splint for another whole week. If she didn't, her nose would heal crooked.

Kayla stared up at that blank infirmary ceiling with a lone spark running down her finger. She was back in her own clothes now, no longer in a hospital gown. They were finally letting her go back to her dorm today, and she'd be returning to classes as soon as possible. Even if it hurt just to breathe. Even if she couldn't close her eyes for more than an hour without waking up in a cold sweat.

None of her injuries were as bad as the nightmares.

Even after seven days of rest, Kayla Croft was still exhausted.

She rolled a charred and bloodied pinball in her fingers, still staring up at that white tiled ceiling. That grumpy expression everyone knew so well was gone, replaced by a pale forlorn mask. The casts, splints, bandages, and dark bags under her eyes just made her look like a broken and battered doll that someone threw away.

But now something in her eyes were burning, and someone was opening the infirmary door.

If you were to ask him directly, he probably wouldn't seem slightly concerned about Kayla. Like Hell, he had already seen a lot of shit go down in his family, a few broken bones and sprains wasn't really shit at all. As long as the shortie was alive, then there wasn't really anything to worry about. ... But he did worry. Slightly. Like fuck you'd ever hear him admit that himself though, and sure as fuck never aloud.

He'd heard that the mission she'd gone on had turned out to be a real disaster. There was no details or big explanations that he'd heard, and he'd been too stubborn to ask for anything else, but whatever had happened; it couldn't exactly have been a walk in the park for anyone that went; especially not for his roommate.
The Autumn had visited her a few occasions that week, but every time she was either passed out or too doped up on medication too probably remember him showing his face ever in the first place. Some part of him wondered if that was for the best, but he wasn't one to put all that much thought into it.

"Glad to see you finally showed up." The nurses assistant mused, a bland look on his face as he flipped through several stacks of paperwork. Preston didn't seemed phased. It was true he was running a little late, only by an hour-and-a-half, but he'd needed time to drop off a friend and go wash the lipstick off his collar. That shit left stains, you know.

He shrugged. Pres couldn't imagine that the girl was in any sort of rush anyways. "What do you need me to do, Doc?" The brunette asked, shoving his hands into his pocket. The Winter didn't answer directly, simply pointing out to a folded-out wheel chair in the corner of the room.

Thankfully, he got the hint.

Not a few minutes later, Preston was walking into the infirmary room without a single knock, pushing in the wheelchair in front of him. "Hey there, Shrimp." He called, grabbing for her attention. She looked even worse when she was awake, he thought. "Don't you look like a million bucks?"

She didn't respond to the click and creak of the opening door. At least, not at first. When she heard that familiar voice though, she slowly turned her head, tearing her gaze away from the ceiling to look at the tall boy at her bedside.

That unhappy expression shifted into a tired half-smile that bordered on a smirk. It was a familiar smile, but for some reason it felt unnatural on her face. One blurry glance at the clock over his shoulder told her that he was late, but she'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed. Time moved strange inside the infirmary.

Still, this was her first real (clear-headed) interaction with another person since she got back from Japan. The entire week, she'd either been alone or with a nurse or too doped up on painkillers to even talk. "So that's the first thing you're gonna say to me?" she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse and faint, and she wondered if this was the first time she'd spoken since the whole incident. Trying to think back, she couldn't even remember. "Try to act a little worried, at least. Maybe try and cry a bit."

Trying to joke around now, after everything that happened, felt strange — like she was trying to imitate how a different person talked. Still, she carried on, like nothing was wrong. Her gaze traveled to the wheelchair. Was she too weak to even walk on her own now? "So they forced you to be my chauffeur?" She reached over with her trembling uninjured arm and removed the ice pack from her stomach, before leaning forward to try and sit up... only to fall back onto the bed again with a muted grunt. Her chest and stomach ached like someone had rained rocks down on her. Damn it...

"That's actually the fifth or sixth thing I've said to you all week." Preston mused, frowning a bit as he straines to hear her. For a moment, he hoped he'd heard what she was saying right and that it didn't loom as if he were pulling words straight out of his ass. "You were too high off your ass too remember though, eh?" He stepped around the chair and to her bedside. Pres gave her a little, mocking pouty face and ran the tip of finger down his cheek, as if tracing the path of a tear, before smirking and laughinh under his breath a little. "You're alive, aren't you?"

He stood back and watched as Kayle moves, her entire body trembling as she struggled to pull herself up. It was a pathetic attempt. "Something like that." It was more of reluctant agreeance. They'd asked him too originally a week ago and he'd blown the idea off at first, but had changed his mind with a little persuasion once he'd seen her in her hospital cot that first time. "Just let the big, strong guy handle it." He smirked, moving his arms out and under her slowly, under her legs and above her shoulders, scooping her up and carrying her over to the wheelchair. He helped her settle in, for the most part, gently. Pres didn't wanna take it slow and chat. He hated hospitals... Infirmaries... Whatever.

Was it? Honestly, she was surprised that Pres had visited her at all before this, so she just smirked. "Yeah, I guess," she murmured. The whole week had burned past in a haze. The only sign of passing in this sterile, white-tiled room were the changing of nurses and the weather outside her window. Today was the first time she felt clear-headed and sober in the slightest, and even still, she almost felt like just shutting her eyes and trying to sleep the pain off. That was all she'd done since she'd gotten back from Japan. Sleep and think.

Kayla couldn't help but laugh at his mock pouty face though. A laugh, huh? It was stupid, but she was pretty sure that was the first time she'd laughed in a long time. Mostly. She was bandaged up all over and couldn't even sit up by herself, but yeah, she was alive. That smile flickered when he stooped down to pick her up. "No, I'm fine, I don't need any—..." His arms slid around her legs and shoulders, and then he was scooping her up bridal style. She gave a feeble kick with her uninjured leg, stabs of pain shooting up her abdomen. "O-ow! Hey!" Kayla snapped, but she was helpless to resist as he carried her over to the chair and set her down.

She fell back against the chair, glowering down at her lap with a defeated look in her eyes. "I can walk on my own, you know." To be honest, she wasn't even sure if she could stand, but it was embarrassing to be in this shape... Kayla gripped the pinball tighter.

Preston scoffed at her feeble, little attempts to fight him off, squirming around stubbornly in his arms, and seemingly even more annoyed when she was set down into her chair - or maybe he just assumed she was annoyed. He couldn't see her face that well anymore, not while she stayed staring down into her lap. Walk on her own? She just proved she couldn't even sit up on her own. "Bullshit." Was all he said on the matter, stepping around to push the chair outsude. "Lets just get back home before someone sees us." Pres sighed, taking Kayla out of the room and out of the infirmary without a single glance at the nurses.

Once they were roaming around outside, he realized he could never appreciate how many useless floors the school's buildings had. At least they'd had the decency to install little elevators for this situation and provided him with a key to them. Made his life easier, and Kayla far less prone to being tipped over a flight of stairs.

"Don't get used to this." The Autumn warned her. This whole chaparoning thing, he wasn't used to it. He was half tempted to ask how she managed to get beat around like an old rag, but that could probably wait.

Kayla wanted to argue it, wanted to fight it, but she knew she couldn't. He was right, as much as it stung to realize. If he wasn't, then she wouldn't have waited around an extra hour-and-a-half to leave. If he wasn't, she would've been able to sit up first before he even had a chance to pick her up like a little kid. She sighed, dropped the pinball into her lap, and rested her cheek on her hand as he finally wheeled her out of the infirmary and into the hallways.

Freedom. It should've been freedom anyways, but she still felt shackled down in her battered state. She couldn't even move around with a chaperon. How long would it take until she was fit to use her own two feet again? Was she going to have to rely on this asshole roommate of hers for long?

She gave Pres a pointed look, regaining a slight half-smile, as he sighed and wheeled her out. "Why? Would you be embarrassed if people saw you not being a douchebag for once?" Kayla's small smirk widened. "You're helping the crippled. It's touching, really." The word 'crippled' had a bitter tinge to it, but she tried not to let it show. "Try and look happier about it. That kind of thing makes girls swoon."

It only occurred to her once they got outside that she didn't want anybody to see her like this either. Maybe that's what he meant when he said that. Her mind jumped to the stalker in the woods, and the pompous bitch from the mission, and everyone else she'd butted heads with since she got here, and wondered how they'd point and laugh if they saw her getting wheeled around looking like this. Kayla became all too aware of the nose cast that took up half her face, and the big black eye, and everything else that she'd received as a Japanese souvenir.

This really is bullshit. All she'd done for the past week was sleep, but now she just wanted to plop down on her own bed and shut the rest of the world out.

Kayla scoffed at his warning. "I don't plan to," she snapped back at him. "I don't even know how they got you to do this in the first place anyways. Just make sure you don't slack off." She almost added "while I need you", but her pride choked the words in her throat before they escaped her lips. The Autumn allowed herself a small mocking grin. "That means making all my food, taking me outside, helping me in and out of bed... you're pretty much my butler now, you know."

Preston scoffed, saying nothing at first as he continued to push the Autumn girl down the hallway. Oh, yeah. Nothing more enticing than seeing some hot guy push a helpless little girl around. "Like how I took the broke, starving girl out for a free lunch that one time?" He mused, rolling his eyes and turning another corner into the main hall of the Autumn dorms after a quick walk. Elevators really did make things seem ten times faster than usual. "It doesn't work like that, Shortie."

By the time she'd made the lame Butler joke, they'd reached the room to their dorm and Preston let out an audible groan. "I'm thinking you're forgetting who should be the thankful one here." He muttered, reaching over and poking her cheek. "Talk to much shit and I might forget to leave you dinner tonight." The young man stepped around her, unlocking the key to the dorm and shooting her a mischievous look, wondering how serious she would take him in the first place.

"That's exactly how it works," she shot back as they wheeled around the corner and into the Autumn dorm hall. He'd gotten free food out of that Valentine deal too, so it wasn't like he could complain. Sure, they'd gotten kicked out at the end, but the whole buffet had been more than worth it, right? It wasn't like he had anything better to do anyways. Somewhere in another dorm, Taimi was slitting her wrists.

She scrunched up her face against his poke, electricity crackling near her cheek. Was he really going to play that game? Kayla didn't doubt it for a second, but he should've been smarter than that. A hungry roommate was a dangerous roommate. "Oh, don't give me that shit. You'd just leave a poor sweet girl to starve? After so gallantly helping her around campus? You really are a monster."

It really was pathetic to think that she had to rely on another person for something as basic as food. Back in the infirmary, they'd spent the whole week spoon-feeding her oatmeal and medicine. That was how she survived. Laying in bed, trembling and aching too bad to even feed herself. Behind her joking and smirking facade, she felt strangely fragile. Kayla pushed those dark thoughts to the very back of her mind. Just play it off. So she continued on, brushing it off.

"I haven't eaten a real meal in too long." She watched the door as he unlocked it. "But I'm guessing you won't put on an apron and cook for me. Even if I gave you directions." All he seemed to eat were chips, soda, and all the other heart-stopping shit you could find at any convenience store. Typical nerdy gamer-fuel. Kayla wasn't judging, but he didn't strike her as the type who knew anything beyond how to push the buttons on the microwave.

Despite what you'd think, she wasn't a bad cook herself, but the truth was that she wasn't fit enough to do anything in her condition. Accidentally burning or cutting herself and getting wheeled back to the infirmary would really send her over the edge. "Are there any take-out places around here? Or am I just stuck with all your Hot Pockets and Mountain Dew?"

No, that entire evening was a problem. Sure, who didn't love free food, but at what cost? Half the girls who saw him afterwords thought he had a new girlfriend, and the other half thought he'd been hiding another little sister from them that entire time. Getting kicked out wasn't exactly good for his image either. He hadn't even gotten that waitresses number...

A monster, she called him. Even worse, she had cared herself a poor, sweet girl. It was almost laughable, really. Kayla had to be one of the least innocent girls in the entire school, or at least, that's how he thought of her. Weren't girls supposed to be dainty and cute and always smiling, or at least frilled up to all hell and back - like his Queen of a sister? "Please, if anything after this you owe me." He muttered, peeking around the chair and giving her a bland smile. "I ended up volunteering because nobody else wanted to risk surprise shock therapy." In all honesty, Preston was just giving her shit. It wasn't the first time he'd been put in a situation like this. After she'd healed up, the only thing he'd really ask would be for her to stop drinking all his god damned soda. The rest was worth forgetting.

The Autumn swung open the door and pushed her inside, locking it behind him and taking her near the couch. "Lucky for you, I already have a shitload of leftovers." Preston mused, lifting her up out of the chair and putting her nimbly by the arm of the sofa. It was amazing how to-go boxes piled up when there was no one there to sneak it out from under you. "What do you want? Pizza? Chinese? Mexican?" His blue-green eyes glinted as he smirked. "Feel special. I'm letting you have the first pick."

"Owe you? I thought this was charity." She gave a little snort and glanced back at him from her chair. "Alright then, if you ever end up in a wheelchair, then I'll play butler to you too, if that's what you want." It didn't phase her in the slightest that he was her only volunteer. If anything, she was glad. Better Pres than the bland nurse assistant in glasses, or worse, some school faculty member. He swung open the door, wheeled her inside, and Kayla got her first look into her 'home' since she'd gotten back.

It was as messy and modest as ever, but after the infirmary, it felt like paradise to her. That familiar couch, that TV, that soda-stained carpet, she'd missed it all more than she realized. Kayla grit her teeth again as he scooped her out of her wheelchair, letting out a small pained sigh when he'd put her back down on the couch. The word 'leftovers' made her perk up. Even after everything she said, she'd been half-expecting him to just leave her to starve. "Really?" she asked, reaching up with a slightly shaking hand to remove her hat and set it on the couch beside her. Her hair had been left down since she got back from Japan; nobody else was going to be bothered to put her static-mussed hair back into a ponytail when she was hurt too bad to do it herself. "You really are being too nice to me now. I guess Chinese is fine with me." Pizza, Mexican, hell, anything sounded good right now, so she chose the first thing that came to her mind.

Preston took a few steps back from the couch, watching as she slowly took the ratty baseball cap off of her head and set it down beside her. "I'm holding your ass to that." He mused, turning his back towards her and walking into the kitchen. "Even if you'd probably do a shittier job than me at it." The Autumn threw open the fridge, grabbing a soda out of the door as soon as he did so before looking on deeper inside. A few white cheesy chinese boxes were shuffled off to the side. Greasy, salty piles of noodles, rice, and deep fried vegetables were exactly what a healing girl needed, right? He pulled them out and sent them straight to the microwave, turning the thing on with a few buttons.

He couldn't be bothered to say anything else about her little comments. As he stood there, watching the plate inside start to turn the little boxes, he thought again about the soda in his hand and the girl in the other room. Pres let out a little sigh, reaching inside the fridge and grabbing another soft drink before walking back into the living room, leaning against edge of the sofa where he sat. He cracked one of the cans and handed it off to her. "Just count yourself lucky and don't spill it anywhere." Preston muttered, waiting until she took it before grabbing for the remote, flicking the TV to find something to watch.

There was already something playing. A certain old anime about pocket monsters.
Actually, no strike, that really happened. /shot

She gave a small snort. "Oh please. I'm used to taking care of useless mouths." It wasn't a lie, really. "Just don't break a leg while I'm still in a wheelchair, alright?" Kayla watched him from the corner of her eye as he rooted through the fridge, pulling out a few white take-out boxes and a can of soda. Hey, greasy to-go Chinese leftovers weren't exactly a five-star buffet, but right now it sounded like the best meal a girl could have.

Her eyes followed him as he walked over and handed her a can. Kayla accepted it with a gracious smile and stared it down. It felt awkward in her left hand, and it shook a little, but that wouldn't be any trouble. Hopefully. Even if her body felt battered and broken, she could still drink from a can, right? That was the least she could do.

Kayla brought it to her lips, savoring the taste, the cold liquid going down her parched throat, and pulled away with a sigh. Some of it had dribbled from the corner of her mouth down her chin, but she wiped it away with the back of her hand and set the can down. Water could suck it. Sometimes you needed a good soda.

The click of the remote caught her attention, and she looked up just as the TV flickered to life. Some old cartoon was already on, and it wasn't until she heard that iconic 'pikapika!' that she realized what they were watching. Sparks went off near her head almost as in response, a muted chuckle escaping her lips. Kayla waited, and waited, expecting for Pres to flip to a different channel at any moment, but more than half a minute later, Ash Ketchum's face was still onscreen.

She wondered for a moment if he'd just zoned out, but before long, the puzzle started piecing itself together. Memories of Pres in a Raichu costume and a nerdy conversation about Pokémon started flooding back.

"Found your favorite show, huh?" she asked with a smirk, only half-teasingly.

He really couldn't think too much about that comment of hers. Truth be told, if he actually bothered to think about it, he hardly knew anything about Kayla at all - other than that she was a stubborn, hard-ass with a knack for Charge Beaming buildings and getting her ass thrown in the infirmary. It was only obvious then that he'd automatically she was going on and talking more shit about him. "Useless?" Preston scoffed again, "Like you're one to talk." Going and getting himself beat silly like her wasn't on his list of things to do anytime soon, so there neither of them had to worry about her being his maid before she finally graduated to crutches.

Preston let the remote fall back to his side as the TV quickly flickered to life, a little put off that the show had already been playing. His face twitched in mild annoyance. He could tell within seconds exactly what episode was on, how far into the season it was, and - well, it was too damn far. He'd thought he'd paused his binge watching before he'd left the dorm earlier that day, but apparently he'd fucked up. This was several shows ahead from where he was. He'd went and fucked up his marathon.

The microwave beeped from the kitchen. The young man tossed the remote away, out of Kayla's reach, before glancing back at her. "Shut up," He muttered stubbornly. It wasn't his favorite show... per se. It might've been pretty high up there, but... Eugh. Okay, yeah. It was. "This shit is classic, alright?" He'd figured she should've known that, since she'd gone all out and went dressed as Pikachu last Halloween, but every other time he came close to mentioning the franchise, she seemed clueless about it as ever. Whatever. He ruffled up her hair with his hand for a moment before disappearing back into the kitchen, grabbing the food finally out of the microwave.

She was almost surprised. Almost. So he wasn't even going to deny it, huh? "Classic?" Kayla tilted her head, gazing at the TV with an almost dazed look. How did that saying go again? 'Don't fuck with the chef?' She had already fucked with the chef more than once just in the last ten or so minutes, but who knew how serious he could be over a cartoon. It was jarring enough to know that he was still into that kind of stuff at his age, especially with how he acted. Was that Mr. Popular dark secret? Kayla always saw signs of 'visitors' after being away for a couple hours. Scrunchies, forgotten jackets, lipstick in the bathroom, whatever. 'Preston, smooth-talking womanizer, sister of two-time prom queen, actually a big Pokémon nerd!'

Somehow, she still didn't think that it'd affect his chances much. He didn't even bother to hide it from her, but maybe that was supposed to be expected. Pres seemed to treat her more like an annoying electric rat than a girl.

"So you actually still watch this? Like, for real? Se—... ack!" Sparks, his or hers, crackled in her hair as he ruffled her hair before walking over to the kitchen to fetch their leftovers. She moved her hand up to desperately flatten the static-charged stray hairs that stood straight up from her head. "Damn it, this always happens..."