He's an old guy. Charming and kind. He is perfect for treating Flo. 
He took an emergency MRI scan of her ribs and found multiple cracks in her ribs. Thank god the bones weren't completely broken or else Flo would've punctured her lung. 
Charles asked me and Massimo to speak in private a few moments ago so now we wait outside her room as he collects all his papers. We left Dom and Lucien with her, both of them have been worried sick since she's passed out. 
Dominic is a nervous wreck and Lucien refuses to take his eyes of her, making sure she continues to breathe. Massimo has been pacing and I have been waiting and watching her EKG monitor like a hawk. 
"Boss," Charles clears his throat as he stands infront of us with a solemn look on his face. "We need to talk about how Ms. Young received the cracked ribs and all of those scars." 
That is another thing we have been stressed about once Charles said she was in the clear. Knowing that the immediate danger was gone we finally relaxed enough to really think about how she ended up on that hospital bed in the first place.
"She has scars that look like belt marks running down her back. They look roughly about two to three years old. However some of the scar tissue looks recent enough to be less than six months ago." 
Who would do that to her? Why? I can't wrap my mind around how someone could do such a terrible thing to someone so pure and adorable. 
"It looks like you have more." Massimo clears his throat. His voice is hoarse and the look in his eyes are anything but calm. He looks angry, destructive, and saddened. My face mirrors his. Plans on how to torture the person that put their hands on her alreading forming in my mind. 
"Yes, unfortunately. The cracks in her ribs look like they would be from a blunt force trauma. It could be anything like a sports injury or in a more severe case, it looks like someone has been repeatedly kicking at her ribs. That along with the belt lashes and scars on her body sounds more realistic than a sports injury." 
"Who would do that to her?" My voice cracks. The thought is unfathomable.
"Her ribs, they look like they have been repeatedly cracked, many not fully healed before re-injured. By any chance could it be from a family member or someone she has lived with in the past?" 
My blood runs cold. The colour from our faces drain. The only reasonable explanation could be Elizabeth, our mother. She was never violent except one time when Massimo and I were twelve and ten years old. We were both running around the house playing tag. Dad was off at work like usual and Elizabeth was drinking bourbon or whiskey. Dominic was having a nap and Lucien was only two at the time so he was napping too. We were running and we both slipped on the recently mopped floors. I reached for something to help break my fall and grabbed onto an expensive Italian vase that is worth more than a yacht. I took it to the ground with me and it shattered into a million tiny shards. 
When Elizabeth heard the shatter and Lucien started screaming in his sleep after being woken up by the loud noise, she came storming over to us. She proceeded to slap me so hard I managed to spit out a loose baby tooth that was bound to come out one way or another. She then grabbed Massimo and screamed at him so loud that it woke up Dominic. She slapped him too, she slapped him so hard her ring cut his cheek. He has a scar there now, however, it is covered by his stubble.
 After that we were wary of her and extra protective of our younger siblings, we always emphasized the importance of staying away from her when she was drinking. She was violent when she was intoxicated. Massimo and I always took care of Florence. We made sure she was fed, changed, and cleaned. Elizabeth didn't mind, less work for her and more time to drink her heart away. 
That was the only time she was really violent. However, if she was drinking when Flo lived with her that could explain everything.
For one, it could explain the hefty checks she had us pay her every month. The unlimited amount of cash flowing in would definitely feed her addiction. But also it could explain Florence's body. The scars, the ribs, the wounds. Hell, even the silence might be a part of it. 
"Do you think she was abused?" I ask Charles, however I am already one hundred percent sure just from the information I have that she was. I just need the doctors clarification. 
"I hate to say this but yes, yes I do." 
Even though I already knew after we discovered her injuries that she was abused, it is still the most heart shattering thing to hear. My sweet Florence has been through hell. The things she must have faced in that home must be unbearable. I mean, when Elizabeth slapped us we were terrified of her. After that we saw her in a new light, she was no longer our mom but some woman who we needed to fear and protect our baby brother's from. She was scary to us, but we had each other. We weren't alone.
Florence was alone. She faced the beatings by herself and she spent ten years of her life fearing the one woman who was supposed to love and protect her. 
"Thank you Charles, we owe you." I shake his hand, I can't stand here anymore, I need to take a breather. So, without a word I leave Massimo and the doctor in the middle of the hallway and push through the double doors of the hospital wing. I dont miss the concerned looks of our people as they bow their heads. I don't acknowledge them. I pick up my pace as the double doors to the garden come into view. 
In no time I am sick and hunched over the perfectly cut grass heaving. Although my body is heaving, nothing is coming out. A hand is placed on my back. 
"Emilio you need to breathe." Mass says calmly to me, I almost miss the hint of concern in his voice. I do as he says, I breathe in and out for a few minutes until my breathing is steady enough to stand. Facing my older brother by two years, I can't help but notice the sadness in his eyes. "She never stopped."
I shake my head, and swallow the lump in my throat. "She was worse," I pause. "Way worse."
We stand for a few moments. We watch as the sun dips under the horizon, the last of the yellow rays gone till the morning. The sky is filled with a palette of watercolour like pink and blue hues. I think Florence would like this view. It is beautiful, she finds the beauty in things. That is what makes her special. She deserves to see the beautiful streaks of colour in the sky and she deserves to speak her mind, without the fear of punishment. That must be the reason why she is scared to communicate—even through writing. She's afraid of punishment.
"When she wakes up things need to be different around here." Massimo breaks the silence. 
I turn my head sideways to face him. "Like what?"
"We need to prove to her that she can trust us. That we are not like..." He trails off only to swallow the lump in his throat. "Elizabeth. She needs to know that she is safe. That she can be who she is."
"How will we do that?"
"We will show her—" the double doors to the base open, cutting the mafia boss off.
"She's awake."
-
Hey everyone!!! 
I hope you are all having a great day. I have strayed away from how I planned the beginning of this story, so I want to get back on track with what I have planned. That means chapters might be slower paced for a while now. More filler chapters and shit. 
I hope that is alright. 
Also just an update about me: for some strange and unknown reason my dumbass selected for grade 11 next year, that my first semester will be  university level functions and then second semester will be grade 12 university level advanced functions. 
I don't know what I was thinking, plus I have university bio and chem 😭. Anyways I just needed to express my dumb decision to all of you. 
Love you all! 🤍