Page 29 of Finding Gwen

The doctor had been present at one point, letting us know they had finally gotten Gwendalyn’s blood work back and confirmed my suspicions that she had been drugged. She had started sobbing at that point, nearly hyperventilating again. I had sat with her and effortlessly pulled her into my lap, breathing with her until she had calmed down and was ready to continue. Much to his credit, Jason stayed professional throughout the entire thing, not even throwing a knowing glance in my direction. She had recounted everything from last night in even greater detail while never leaving my arms. I refused to let her at this point. This was where she belonged.

“Alright, Ms. Brookes,” Jason said, “so from my understanding there was no penetration by the assailant’s genitalia?” Gwendalyn shook her head, stiffening slightly in my arms. She had been completely relaxed against me up to that point, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. I kissed her hair and rubbed her back, small gestures to help ground her.

I peeked over Gwendalyn’s head, Jason’s gaze finding mine. He raised his eyebrows, a silent question, and I gave my head a slight nod. This next bit would be hard, but luce mia had more strength than she knew. He looked back to her and softened his face. I have seen him do this hundreds of times, and it still surprised me how good he was at it. “So the next step would be to obtain a sexual assault kit to gather evidence. It’s by no means a requirement as we cannot force you to undergo such an invasive exam, but it could help in the future. It’s entirely up to you. Is that something you want to go forward with?”

I looked at Gwendalyn, wishing I could read her mind. She turned to look at me and I saw it in her eyes, the question of what she should do. “I support you, whatever you want to do,” I said, losing the internal battle to keep myself composed when a tear slid down her cheek. “I promise you, no matter what you choose to do, I will find that fucker and he will pay for putting his hands on you.” Her eyes went wide, and she turned her head to look at Jason, presumably because she expected him to chastise me for threatening someone’s life in front of him.

She didn’t know him like I did, though, what he did in his free time. Gone was the calm, concerned expression of Detective Kregler. Replacing it was the uncontrollable anger that I had been trying to keep hidden from Gwendalyn since I found her in that parking lot last night. Jason simply nodded his head.

Gwen’s eyes returned to mine, still wide, as if trying to connect the dots. Bringing one of her hands to my lips, I gently pressed my lips to her knuckles. I watched as her expression softened and she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “I just want to go home,” she whispered.

I pulled her back against my chest, kissing the top of her head while it laid on my shoulder. “Of course, luce mia,” I muttered into her hair. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Twenty

Gwen

Looking at the radio clock, it felt like it should be much later than two in the afternoon. I was thankful for the quiet drive home as the streets weren’t yet busy with rush hour traffic. Leaning my head against the window of Anthony’s truck, I watched the downtown streets morph into suburban roads as the events of the last 24 hours ran through my mind. After Detective Kregler had shaken hands with Anthony, he had left and the nurse had returned one more time with discharge papers and a set of scrubs. She had helped me change while Anthony had walked his partner out, even though I could tell he wanted to protest. Honestly, I didn’t want him to see the bruises. If the one on my face was any indication, I preferred to keep those to myself for now.

I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, a feeling of uncertainty attempting to settle in my stomach and making me nauseous. Anthony’s hand laid on top of mine, comforting me with little brushes of his thumb. I had gotten away. I was safe. Repeating those words in my head over and over, I focused on the motion of the car and the warmth of Anthony’s hand. The combination soothed the nerves in my body and I could feel myself beginning to relax. Listening to the song softly playing on the radio, everything else drifted away.

When I opened my eyes, Anthony had me pressed against his chest, his scent enveloping me as he lifted me out of his truck and into the house. I wanted to protest, but smiled to myself, remembering his insistence on not letting me walk, both in the hospital and when we left. He wanted to take care of me and I was too exhausted to fight him. I felt how I imagined being run over by a truck must feel like and just wanted to go back to sleep.

I lifted my head as we ascended the stairs, confused where Anthony was taking me. “Where are you going?” I asked, looking up at his face while trying to read his expression. He kept his eyes forward and avoided my gaze.

“Your bathroom doesn’t have a bathtub and you can’t take a shower with your stitches,” he answered. As much as I wanted to argue for him to just take me to my bed, a bath sounded nice. There was a layer of dirt on my skin that I wanted to wash off.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Anthony stepped into his room and went to his master en suite. There had never been a reason to come in here, and my jaw dropped at the sight of his bathroom. Across from the double sinks with a beautiful marble countertop was a massive clawfoot tub. Behind it was a glass shower with a waterfall shower head and black tile. I was speechless, Anthony’s chuckle letting me know he found it amusing.

He walked over to the edge of the tub, sitting me down so I was perched on the edge. Keeping his hand on my waist, he reached over me to turn on the water. I wanted to cling to him and envelop myself in his warmth, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face into his chest once again. He gave me a little squeeze before placing a kiss on top of my head and leaning back.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he whispered. I nodded my head as he stepped away, leaving the bathroom. Immediately, I missed his warmth and wrapped my arms around myself. Not knowing what else to do, I looked around the bathroom, admiring the massiveness of it all before catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. If I thought I had looked bad before, I was a disaster now. The nurse had gathered my hair back into a low ponytail, understanding my need for my hair to be out of my face, but also being mindful of the stitches. I pulled the ends in front of my shoulder, my fingers running over the streaks of dirt and dry blood speckled throughout.

The bruising on my face had gotten progressively worse, turning a dark red and purple. Standing up, I took a couple steps forward and carefully pulled the scrub top up slightly to look at my hip in the mirror. The top of a massive bruise that disappeared under my pants was beginning to form. I knew if I looked, there would be similar bruises on my thighs as well.

“Gwen…” Anthony’s voice came from behind me. Startled, I dropped my shirt and turned on my heel. His hands moved to brush away tears from my cheeks that I hadn’t realized had fallen. “Luce mia, you’re safe now.” I took a deep breath, leaning into his touch. I had gotten away. I was safe. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we’ll get you into some comfy clothes. Can I help you take these off?”

Panic rose in my chest, and I frantically shook my head. I didn’t want him to see. This was all too much. Hugging myself with my arms, I hang my head, avoiding Anthony’s eyes. “Gwen, talk to me, please.”

“The bruises… I… I… don’t,” I stammered, unable to even finish the thought.

“Luce mia, look at me,” Anthony said. I shook my head, but he didn’t accept that answer. Placing his hand on my chin, he gently lifted my head until I was looking at him. “Gwendalyn, those bruises do not define who you are. What defines you are the things you do every day, despite what you’ve been through. I may not know everything about you, but what I do know is that you are an incredible woman who has opened up her heart to my son, treated him with more love and respect than he has ever received, all because you believe there is good in everyone.” A few stray tears fell when I blinked up at him.

“Please, let me help,” he whispered, drying the wet trail left on my cheek with a swipe of his thumbs. His hands moved to the hem of my shirt and I pulled away. Every nerve in my body was screaming to run. But Anthony wasn’t forcing himself on me. He was relaxed, his eyes soft as he waited for my consent. I had gotten away. I was safe.

Closing my eyes, I stepped into his arms and focused on breathing, too scared to see his reaction to my body. My hands rested on his chest, focusing on the rise and fall of it once Anthony had maneuvered the top over my head. I forced my eyes closed even more when his fingers grazed my bruised hip. The lingering touches caused goosebumps to flood my skin. My jaw clenched as he quickly untied the scrub pants and let them fall to the floor.

I was anticipating words of disgust, a gasp, anything. Instead, warm hands cradled my face.

“You are beautiful, luce mia,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. “Nothing will ever change that.” Anthony pulled away, and I opened my eyes, expecting sympathy. Relief washed over me when what I saw was along the lines of admiration.

He wasn’t lying. My heart pounded in my chest, not sure what to be feeling. His hands covered mine, pulling them to his lips to kiss my knuckles before he led me toward the bath. Carefully, I stepped into the water, letting my body adjust to the warmth of the water as it lapped at my calves.

Sitting down, I pulled my knees as close to my chest as possible before resting my chin on top of them. My shoulders tensed and my body trembled slightly as it adjusted to the water. Anthony grabbed a couple washcloths from under the sink and sat them on the edge of the tub before kneeling next to me. He gently worked the ponytail holder from my hair, being careful not to tug the stitches. My hair hung in clumps against my shoulders.

He reached for one of the washcloths, dunking it in the water and wringing it out. Carefully, he wiped away the evidence of last night from my hair, being mindful of the stitches. The knot in my stomach slowly unfurled as he worked, my eyes closing as the tension left my shoulders. I found it easy to just sit there in the warm water as he took care of me.

A comfortable silence fell over the room, the occasional sloshing of water when he cleaned out the washcloth the only sound. It was rarely this quiet in the house, even when Ollie was taking a nap. There was always something making noise.

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