The trauma ward is packed to the brim with patients and nurses buzzing about. I see a few of them clocking in meals and medication schedules as we walk inside, following Claudia closely. 

She has on a white apron and a head cap tied tightly around her head. Her thick black hair rolled into a neat bun at the back of her neck. She has a stocky build and squarish shoulders which she straightens when junior nurses nod her way.

Claudia has been here for as long as I can remember. The last I heard she became head nurse a few years ago. Must be why the staff part for us like the Red Sea. 

There are moans of pain coming from all directions. I try to focus on the path ahead but ever so often my eyes will stray and I wish that they didn't. We pass by an elderly man who has half of his head covered in bandages, covering his left eye. I notice the bandaged portion has sunken in, looking like a part of his skull is missing.

It makes my stomach squirm and I catch Luke watching him as well. 

The man stares at us passers by with his one good eye and I quickly look away, feeling guilty for staring in the first place. 

Thankfully, mum is in a room by the back, giving us some privacy. The lighting here is white, dimmed by the mustard yellow curtains framing the window. There are three beds here, one occupied with the curtain drawn, one empty and one with mum lying on it. 

I rush to her bed, noticing that she's finally awake. Mum blinks a few times, as if staring at me through a lens when I near her bed. For a second I'm blinded by the fear that she's forgotten me due to some head injury but then she smiles, opening up her arms for a hug. 

I know she's hurt but I hug her tight enough to crush ribs. 

"Sayang. I'm fine, don't worry." She pats my back, comforting me even though she's the one who got hurt. 

Those damn tears fall down my face again, this time like a waterfall. They stain her gown but I can't seem to stop. All that panic, all that worry, it's a shot of the worst type of adrenaline rush and now that she's okay I feel exhausted, tired, drained. 

I lean back when Claudia gently pulls me away, probably afraid that I am squeezing my mother to death. Knowing my mother, even if she was in pain she'd never admit it. It's an admirable trait that I absolutely despise about her. 

It's only when I take a step back does she notice Luke standing by the door. He's outside, far enough to give us some privacy but her eyes narrow his way even though his back is currently facing us. 

I catch him nodding at a nurse politely before taking a sip of the coffee we've been holding on to for hours. Somehow the little gesture he makes flips my stomach, twisting it into knots. Either that or I'm having gastric because I missed a meal. 

"Who's that?" Mum asks and I study the injuries on her face. Her lip is swollen and her front tooth badly chipped. I'm guessing they couldn't attach the broken part back. Is she going to walk around with that tooth from now on? It looks horrible, I doubt she'd be able to live with it.

We'd probably have to visit a dentist and that would only cost more money. Money none of us have. I grit my teeth, cursing inwardly at my father. 

"A friend. He helped bring you here." I finally answer and my mother's face darkens. I know she must be embarrassed. I was embarrassed as well when he first got involved. We Nio girls have dealt with our issues by ourselves for years, I wonder if she's mad at me for bringing him here. 

"Why did he help?" She wonders skeptically. She frowns and then winces when her lips move, she has to mumble her next few words. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Her question brings colour to my cheeks and it just so happens that Luke turn around to look at me, just as I do. Our eyes meet and he gives me a small smile before turning around to mind his own business. His relaxed demeanour is the only thing bringing me some calm at this moment.

"No, he isn't." I tell her, interlacing my fingers and looking down at the pale white sheet covering her legs. 

"Hmmm," Is all she replies but then she whispers. "Does he know how I got hurt?" 

Her eyes are filled with so much panic. Why doesn't she feel that same panic right before dad hits her? 

"Yes, he does," I mutter, clenching my jaw so hard that it starts to hurt. 

"Danielle," She sighs in disappointment. "You can't be airing our dirty laundry to the whole world. This is so embarrassing. What if he says something to your friends in college? What if he reports?" 

Her eyes go wide with fear, as if someone reporting the abuse would be the absolutely worse thing to happen to her. For the life of me I can't understand it. 

I lean in so that the patient behind the curtain and Luke can't hear us. "Would it be the worst thing is someone reported this? Don't you think this has gone on for long enough?" 

Claudia must take this as some sort of cue because she chimes in softly. "There's a social worker talking to a battered wife outside. I can arrange a meeting if you're ready. Don't worry I'll make sure you get some privacy." She gestures to the covered curtain next to us and whoever is on the other side. 

She's said those words to my mother many times before. Claudia has seen this pattern too many times and I suspect she has submitted reports herself, warranting an investigation but the timing was always wrong. 

Whenever a woman claiming she was a social worker paid an impromptu visit to our flat, my mother and father would be on their best behaviour. There would be no visible injuries on my mum and everything would just look so perfect and peachy. 

And it doesn't help when my mother fills in the cause of injury as accident every bloody time. I notice she did the same thing today. Her chart claiming she fell off a stool while cleaning the fan and hit the edge of the table. 

The only thing accurate is the hitting the table part. 

It happens so visibly that Claudia and I can almost predict what is going to happen next. I watch with growing dread as my mother's shoulders slump defensively, curling forward like she's trying to fold in on herself. She looks at us accusingly, making it seem like we are the bad guys here. 

"Why should I report something when nothing happened? It clearly states that I fell off my chair while cleaning the fan." She points to the stack of papers on the table by her bed. "If I keep changing my story people will think I'm a liar. Do you want me to lose my job, Claudia?" 

Her statement makes no sense. Her defensiveness makes no sense. What is she trying to protect? A collapsed marriage, whereby her husband steals from her and then beats her up when she doesn't have enough money to give him? 

But the problem is, I can't speak for her and neither can Claudia. I notice Claudia backing away slowly. But I'm too angry to give up, too fed up to care that my mother's eyes are blotched with red. 

I press a finger to her chart, to the medical history that dictates the cause of her injury. I tap it so hard that the table shakes. 

"This. This is a lie." 

My mother leans back against the headboard, looking like she's afraid of me. 

"When are you finally going to tell the truth?" My voice breaks, like glass shards shattering with the rest of me. "If you won't think about yourself, then why won't you think of me? Think of what I had to grow up with."

I can feel the dark cloud surrounding her as she grows more and more defensive. "He's never hurt you like that. I always protected you." 

Just like today. 

"You shouldn't have to do that." 

Mum waves me off with a frail hand, sinking against her pillow. "Danielle, I'm tired and I don't want to talk about this anymore." 

My heart sinks when she closes her eyes. Another argument lost, yet again. 

"He should be the one protecting us. Instead we need protection from him." I mutter in disappointment and her eyes shoot open. 

She glares at me. She actually looks angry. 

"He's been fine ever since you went to college. We've been fine, Danielle. It's only when you come back...." She trails off, catching herself but I don't miss the bite in her voice. My eyes widen in shock, mirroring hers. She always gets defensive when we talk about this but she's never outright blamed me. 

"It's just worse when you're there," She explains quickly but the knife has already been buried. I felt the sharpness of it, the pain now flooding my entire system. All those times I used to go back home thinking I needed to be there for her. 

And now she's telling me that I'm the cause of her problems. The reason why they fight, the reason why my father hits my mother, the reason we're here today, is because of me. 

Me. 

I bite my lip so hard that I draw blood. My body shakes as I turn around and proceed to leave. I can't say bye, can't say anything without the fear of breaking down completely. I just need to be alone. 

"I didn't mean it like that," She calls after me. 

I walk out of the room and almost knock into a bouquet of flowers. Their fresh scent clashing wildly with the harsh stench of disinfectant. I have to rub my nose before taking a step back and then I look up to see my father staring at me. 

His face is plagued with guilt and he gives me a crooked smile. "How is she?" 

I can feel Luke by my side, he watches my father carefully, arms braced looking like he's ready for a fight. If I wasn't so hurt I might have smiled. Luke's protectiveness is cute but my father isn't dumb enough to cause a scene in a hospital. 

I want to block his path. Tell him to buzz off or something. But what right do I have when I'm apparently the cause of their issues. 

I ignore my father and walk away, weaving past a trolley filled with gauze and tape. Luke follows close behind but I'd rather be alone now more than ever. I catch nurse Claudia by the registration counter. She sees the expression on my face and walks over. 

"Thank you, Claudia. Really appreciate the help," My voice cracks when I speak. 

She squeezes my shoulder. "We can only save those who want to be saved, Danielle. Sometimes the only thing we can do is save ourselves." 

She releases me and I all but run out of the hospital. The fresh air outside doing nothing to calm the turbulence brewing inside of me. Luke must have noticed my change in mood ever since I talked to mum. 

He doesn't say anything as we drive back. When he stops outside my flat, I unbuckle my seatbelt but he puts a hand on mine, stopping me from getting out of the car. 

"Let me stay with you. It doesn't feel right, leaving you here alone." 

It will be. At least for the next few days. That's how my household usually operates. 

"I'll be fine." I tell him, brushing his hand away. A flash of hurt crosses his face and it makes me feel things I don't want to feel. It makes me want to invite him up, to curl up against his chest and lie with him till I sleep. It makes me want to lean forward and kiss away the hurt my words have caused him. 

It makes me feel weak. The image of my mother's battered face floating in my thoughts.

And then I realise that that is the last thing I want. To be beholden to my feelings because of a man I like. I never want to be in a position that could hurt me. Never want to feel that pain Liz went through or the delusions my mother has for my father. 

I never want to be in love. Ever.