His finger glided over the red button as the call to 911 ended.

"Where are we going?" I asked the middle-aged man sitting across the car seat.

"Hospital," The answer was also steady as his eyes focused on the road.

"Take me home," I calmly demanded while looking out the window.

He looked over at me while shaking his head and returned his vision to the front, "Look at the wounds on your arms. No one's going home until you see a doctor".

Honestly, If I hadn't just escaped a possible kidnapping and didn't just leave my mother in danger. I wouldn't have minded going to the damn hospital.

"I'll just sterilize them at home," I reasoned.

"But, you need professional help-"

"I've got a friend who's in medical. I'll just call him over," I justified again.

He huffed, "Okay, but I'll stay until it's properly treated" He pointed to the scratches on my arms with his eyes while taking a sharp turn.

I looked out the window noticing the descending familiar streets.

                                                                                    *******

"Where's he?" 

"He's coming!" I sighed heavily to show my irritation while folding my hands; the thousandth gesture I've changed in the past 40 minutes.

And just as I was about to let my eyes drop close the doorbell rung through the house.

I stayed still on the sofa, fully knowing I wasn't required to open the door.

"Mr. Nielson?" A confused voice echoed while nearing.

"Yes." The teacher deadpanned, "Now, look at her" He ordered Max, who was equipped with a first aid box in his hands. 

The blue-eyed boy looked towards me, his face immediately softening, in presumably concern.

"How'd this happen" He gently asked while sitting on his knees and taking the injured article of body in his hands.

I shrugged before closing my eyes, leaning back in the cosy sofa and voluntarily drifting off to much needed sleep.