Page 115 of My Vows Are Sealed

“You can stop covering for him now, Darla,” my dad bit out, then looked at the police officer. “She’s still terrified, officer. She fell for his lies, and he coerced her away from our home and began physically and sexually abusing her. She’s only seventeen. They’re not engaged.”

“No,” I insisted. “Brendan was trying to protect me. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Okay, Darla,” the officer said as he glanced back and forth between me and my father. “Look, we’re going to get you and your dad to the hospital, and we’ll get statements from everyone involved. I’m going to call for medical assistance, okay?”

He got up and walked away, and my dad looked back at me, the hard, evil stare back in his eyes as he lowered his face to within three inches of mine.

“Say one more fucking word in that boy’s defense and I will cut that spawn out of you myself,” he hissed, low but deadly.

Was he just completely unhinged? He was literally snapping back and forth between playing the doting, devastated father while the police were watching and threatening me the second their backs were turned. I was about to get whiplash trying to keep up with his apparent mood swings.

“Help’s on the way, Darla,” the police officer said as he walked back over to us. “We’re going to get you and your dad to the hospital to get checked out. Sir, I’m sorry, but it is protocol to separate everyone involved in this kind of situation.”

“I’m not leaving my daughter!” my father barked.

“My partner’s going to stay with her. Let’s get you cleaned up and checked out, and we’ll get you both to the hospital.”

“No,” my father growled at him. “I’m. Not. Fucking. Leaving. Her. I just got her back from that monster.”

“Please,” I said weakly, too exhausted and afraid to say anything else.

My father caught my eye again with the same murderous look in his eyes. And that one look told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t going to let me be alone with these officers or the doctors or medics or nurses for a single second. He knew I’d tell them everything as soon as I was alone with anyone, and he was going to do everything he possibly could to keep that from happening. He was going to use the fact that I was two weeks shy of my eighteenth birthday to prohibit them from questioning me alone, and he was going to use his profession as a well-known local minister to charm his way out of any accusations Brendan or I made against him.

“Sir, can I get you to back away from her so I can check her out, please?” I heard a woman’s voice saying.

I looked in the direction the voice had come from and saw a woman who looked like she was in her mid-twenties dressed in a paramedic’s uniform.

“I’m. Staying. With. My. Daughter,” he repeated as he turned to glare at her.

Her eyes widened, almost like she was terrified, and she took a couple of steps back from him.

“You don’t have to leave this room. Just give me some space to work,” she said, her voice shaking just a little. “Let my partner take a look at you while I help your daughter.”

With one last warning look, my father finally let go of me and stood up.

“Can I get a towel to clean this vomit off of myself, please?” he bit out, shooting me another warning look.

“I’ve got something in my bag,” a new voice said. “Come with me, sir.”

The medic who had gotten him to back away knelt down next to me.

“Darla,” she whispered. “Do you remember me?”

I tried to think, but I was in so much pain that my brain was just a jumbled mess. I shook my head.

“My name’s Allie. I used to go to your dad’s church. You were about twelve the last time I saw you.”

Oh, my God. I did remember her. I remembered she was always nice to me, even though she was five years older than me, and she’d suddenly left church when I was in middle school. I tried to swallow down more tears, but I couldn’t, and a fresh sob tore out of my throat. I just wanted Brendan, but he was gone and I’d probably never see him again.

“Can you tell me what hurts?” she asked me.

“My right arm and the left side of my ribcage. And I’m pregnant. I’m scared for the baby,” I choked out.

She lifted my arm and it fell limply at an odd angle as another jolt of agony shot through me, so she gently set it back down and grabbed what looked like a plastic splint out of her bag, sliding it under my arm and putting some gauze rolls on either side of my arm to immobilize it.

“How far along are you?” she asked as she wrapped my splinted arm up.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I just took the test yesterday.”

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