Saved: 1- Battered And Bruised

I was fourteen when that police officer came to my house. I hadn't been to school in weeks. Hell, I hadn't even seen daylight in weeks. When they found me, I was bound to a chair, dehydrated, starving, and barely conscious. And even then, I remember that day better than most.
After my father left, my mother had gone off the deep end. She sheltered me to the extreme, never letting me from her sight. If I tried to get away or if she was distracted at all, I'd be tied up. That particular day, I'd fought with her. I tried to get out the front door, but when she caught me,  she grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. Then she proceeded to beat the life out of me. It was easy for her to overpower me, since I hadn't eaten in two days. She threw me to the ground and kicked me over and over. When she finished with that, she picked me up, only to hit me over the head from behind with what I believe was a heavy skillet.
When I came to, I was tied to a chair. I was completely bound; my arms were tied behind the chair, my wrists tied together. My legs were the same. My waist was even bound to the chair. I could hardly move at all. But she forgot one thing: my mouth.
When the police officer knocked on the door, she answered it politely and answered his questions as if nothing was wrong. But I knew that this had to stop, and that this was my only way out. I took a chance and screamed for help. The police officer knew that that was his call to action. He burst into the house, my mother screaming wildly at him to stop where he was. When he got to the doorway of my bedroom, he wasted no time. He immediately turned around and slammed my mother into the wall, cuffing her. He even went so far as to cuff her ankles so she couldn't try to harm either of us.
He then walked towards me and began to try and untie the insanely tight ropes that held me captive. He looked up at me and asked how I was, if I'd been taken care of in the least, when the last time I ate or drank was, the typical questions you would ask someone in that situation. The last thing I remember was him picking up his radio and calling for an ambulance and backup. Then I blacked out again.
This time when I woke up, I was staring at a ceiling, fluorescent lights buzzing all around me. That awkward sterile smell was everywhere, which indicated to me that I was in the hospital and that I was safe. First I assessed myself: my head injury had been wrapped and there was an I.V. in my arm. I could feel bruises all over my body, and my whole being just hurt. I looked around the room to find that I was alone. Except for one person.
The police officer. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, and it appeared that he'd nodded off. "Excuse me, sir?" I said quietly. This seemed to surprise him, as he jumped awake and looked over at me with a smile on his face.
"Well I'll be. Looks like we found you just in time, kid," he said. This was the first time I actually got to study him. He seemed to be in his mid to late twenties, maybe about six feet tall, probably a few inches taller. He had green eyes, but not the typical emerald green most people have. His were almost lime green, almost fluorescent in a way. His hair was dark, not black, but that deep brown that most people mistake for black. He had no facial hair aside from his stubbly sideburns that came to about his jaw. His nose was one of those awkward kinds that's kind of long and big, but not like a beak nose. Well groomed eyebrows, and a scar on his right cheek. All in all, he was pretty attractive. "I'm Officer Miller, but you can call me Curt. Do you know where you are?"
I nodded. "I'm in the hospital. How long was I out? Do you know?"
He nodded. "Been here the whole time. No need to worry, you were only unconscious for a few hours. You're lucky I got there when I did; any later and you might not have been able to call for help. Your vitals were going crazy when we got you here, probably from the lack of nutrients in your system. As soon as they hooked you up to the I.V., though, you came through."
"So you're the one who saved me right? And you said you've been here since? That's kind of creepy, don't you think? A guy your age creeping a fourteen-year-old. You can get in trouble for that, you know." It was a joke, of course. After all, I truly did appreciate that he stayed by my side to make sure I was okay. We laughed for a minute, even after the doctor entered the room.
The doctor joined in on our little chuckle as he sat down on the foot of the bed. "Sounds like someone's feeling better, huh?" I was still chuckling a little, for no real reason, but as soon as I went to nod, my entire chest started to hurt. The doctor laughed a little bit. "Looks like you were having such a good time laughing, you forgot about all the bruising. It's good to do that sometimes, smile through the pain, but just remember, you are still hurt, so don't take it too far." I nodded, smiling weakly. "Other than just taking it easy and resting up, I have no other suggestions. You'll stay here a week or so to give the bruising time to heal up, as well as that cracked rib, but otherwise you'll be free to go sooner than you know." That seemed to strike a nerve, and the doctor seemed to understand. "I'll leave you two alone for now. I'll send a nurse with some food soon." And with that, he got up and left.
"Curtis…Where will I go?" I said softly, on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry, what? Sorry, you're mumbling."
I looked up at him, tears now starting to roll down my face. "I said 'Where will I go?' I can't go back with my mother, and all my other relatives live in other countries. So where will I go?"
My crying seemed to make him a little uncomfortable, as he noticeably tensed up.  "Well…" he started, "You'll…you'll probably wind up in…in state care." He looked away toward the floor. "I'm sorry…I wish there was something else I could do."
I looked over at him, still crying and asked him why. After all, I was only another case for him…right? And either way, we'd only known each other for a few minutes, so why would he care? "Because you…you're special to me…"
I blushed quite noticeably. "Sp-special? What-wha-what do you mean 'special'?"
He looked back at me quite intensely and simply said, "I don't know."
This made me almost angry. "What the hell do you mean?" The anger quickly turned to sadness. "Whatever. You confuse me. All adults do…" I rolled away from him and looked up at the sky through the window.
And then I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Do you really want to know?"
I looked up at him and firmly said, "Tell me."