Page 53 of On Your Knees

Doctor Cartwright nods, his expression sympathetic. “Follow me.”

We walk through the sterile, brightly lit waiting room. The buzz of conversation and the occasional beeping of medical equipment fade as we make our way down a long, dimly lit hallway. The antiseptic smell of the hospital fills my nostrils, mixing with the faint, lingering scent of Eva’s perfume, which now feels hauntingly out of place in this clinical environment.

Doctor Cartwright leads me to the end of the hall and opens the door to a small, private room. The space is bathed in soft, muted light from a single overhead fixture. Eva is lying on the hospital bed, her face pale and covered in bruises. Her breathing is steadybut shallow, a rhythmic rise and fall beneath the white hospital sheets.

I walk slowly to her bedside, my heart aching at the sight of her vulnerable state. Her once vibrant eyes are closed, her usual bright spirit dimmed by the pain she must be enduring. The room feels too quiet, and I can’t help but feel a crushing sense of responsibility for what happened to her.

I pull a chair close to the bed and sit down, reaching out to take her hand gently in mine. “Eva,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I struggle to hold back my tears. “I’m here. I’m so sorry. I should have been there sooner.”

Her hand feels limp in mine, but I squeeze it gently, hoping she can sense my presence and the depth of my concern. I glance up at Doctor Cartwright, who is standing quietly near the door, giving me some space.

“Is there anything I can do to help her?” I ask, my voice trembling with urgency.

Doctor Cartwright shakes his head. “Right now, she needs rest. We’ll keep monitoring her closely and manage her pain. If she wakes up, we’ll do our best to get her to talk. But for now, just being here with her might be the most comforting thing you can do.”

I nod, feeling the weight of helplessness pressing down on me. I turn my attention back to Eva, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Just hang in there, Eva,” I murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I don’t need her to tell me who did this to her. It’s obvious it was Christopher. He must have recognized her from the club last night.

My blood boils as I think about all the ways I’d like to personally see to his demise. Watch him squirm as I sink my fingers into his eye sockets and push. I’d love to beat him to a bloody pulp, see how he likes being manhandled.

My anger flares up once more as I see Eva stir on the bed, her frail form shifting slightly under the sheets.

“Benedict,” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath. Each syllable is strained and laced with pain, and it cuts through me like a knife.

I tighten my grip on her hand, trying to offer what little comfort I can. “You’re safe now,” I say softly, my voice filled with a desperation I can’t quite hide. More than anything, I want to gather her in my arms, to shield her from the world and carry her away from all this horror. The thought of holding her close, away from harm, feels like a distant dream.

Doctor Cartwright, sensing the gravity of the moment, discreetly steps out, giving us the privacy we need. The quiet hum of the hospital room is punctuated only by the soft beeping of the heart monitor, and I slide closer to Eva, my heart aching at her suffering.

“It’s just me and you now, baby,” I whisper, my voice tender as I gently pat her head with my free hand. The contact is meant to be soothing, though I know it’s a small comfort compared to the pain she’s enduring. “You’re safe now.”

Her eyes flutter open briefly, and she manages to choke out a single word. “Christopher.”

My heart clenches at the name. I swallow hard, fighting the rage that surges within me. “I know,” I say, my voice steady but tight. “We’ll get through this. I promise you, Eva. We’ll figure this out.”

Her eyelids grow heavy again, and she seems to drift back into a fitful sleep. I remain at her side, my gaze never leaving her pale face. My mind races, full of unanswered questions and a deep-seated resolve to protect her from any further harm.

Chapter 26

Evangelina

It’s been nearly a week since I came home from the hospital, and Benedict has been my constant companion every step of the way. One week of him never leaving my side has been both a blessing and a strange comfort in the midst of this chaos.

To say he’s taking care of me is an understatement. Benedict has been my rock, attending to my every need with a patience and dedication that’s almost overwhelming. From the moment I was discharged, he has been here, ensuring I have everything I need and more.

He wakes up early to prepare breakfast, bringing me a tray of light, nutritious food to help me regain my strength. He’s attentive, always checking my medication schedule and making sure I’m comfortable. Even the smallest tasks—like adjusting the pillows on my bed or drawing the blinds to let in just the right amount of sunlight—are done with care.

His presence is soothing. He sits by my bed during the day, reading to me from my favorite books.

I’ve asked who’s watching his parish, and he told me they’ve brought in another priest from a nearby church.

At night, he remains close by, often dozing in a chair next to my bed. His hand is always within reach. I’ve noticed the way he looks at me. There’s a tenderness in his eyes that I haven’t seen before, a quiet strength that seems to hold the weight of both our fears and hopes.

There’s an undercurrent of tension in his demeanor. He’s been more focused than usual, his brow furrowed as if he’s carrying a heavy burden he hasn’t shared with me. I sense he’s fighting an internal battle, one that he’s determined to shield me from.

He’s been keeping things from me, and the weight of his silence is starting to eat away at me. I need to know what’s going on behind those intense eyes of his.

One sunny afternoon, as I sit propped up with pillows on the couch, I turn to Benedict, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer. “What are you not telling me?” I ask, my voice calm despite the growing tension between us.

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