Page 96 of I Can't Even

“What all happened again?” Garrett asked in horror. “She looks… bad. And for it being a week since this all went down… She looks so bad.”

Oh, boy.

“Broken face. Broken skull. Broken ulna,” I heard Quaid recite. “She has a fractured sternum. Multiple organ lacerations. Blood loss. High blood pressure. Possible right kidney failure.”

“From him kicking her?” someone asked. Auden maybe.

“From him kicking her,” Quaid confirmed.

“The wound she sustained to her stomach is bad. The knife wound ripped through all the muscles and things in her belly. There are fancy words for them, but for the life of me I can’t remember what they are.” He paused, sounding exhausted. “The baby is fine. But as of right now, they’re worried most about possible infection. Though she wasn’t disemboweled, she came really close. She was cut from hip to hip. Muscle, tendons, parts of her bowels, and her uterus were exposed to the environment for a solid ten minutes before we found her. Then there was me pressing my hand to them to keep them inside of her when I turned her onto her back.”

The pain that I’d sustained. Nothing compared to that one.

I got kicked in the face multiple times. I had my arm practically snapped in half when he stepped on it. He punched me for what felt like an hour.

Then, I’d done something so freakin’ stupid.

I’d said, “Don’t hurt the baby.”

And he’d gone… nuts.

If that was even possible seeing as he was pretty freakin’ crazy as it was.

But it was like some light switch had flipped in his brain at the mention of me being pregnant.

The last thing I saw before he threw a solid right hook at my face was him pulling out a knife.

I don’t remember much after that but pain. I couldn’t recall what happened beyond that. Didn’t remember seeing Quaid save me. Didn’t remember the hospital or the last week.

All I could remember was Dr. Brewn pulling that knife out followed by searing pain.

“And the baby?” I heard Hollis ask.

“He’s healthy,” Quaid murmured. “A fuckin’ miracle seeing as the rest of her is so broken.”

“He?” I croaked.

There was silence in the room, and then I felt Quaid get closer, smelled the coffee on his breath as he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Are you awake, baby?”

“He?” I repeated.

“He,” Quaid confirmed. “Are you with me?”

“I’m with you,” I said through dried, cracked lips. “Why can’t I open my eyes?”

Quaid made a sound in his throat that sounded an awful lot like he was about to cry, and that made my stomach drop.

I tried to lift my hand, but it didn’t move, either.

“Your eyes are taped shut,” he explained. “You kept opening them while you were asleep, and they were worried that you would damage them further. And you are strapped to the bed, too, because you kept trying to get up.”

I inwardly winced. “S-sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he promised. “I’ll take the tape off.”

I felt a light touch on my face, then the feeling of tape being pulled off my eyes.

When my eyelids were finally free, I blinked them open, and stared into eyes of my favorite color green.

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