Page 6 of Jack

“Eat up, girl. You need your strength. No telling what craziness will burst through the doors tonight.” Nina pushes a plate in front of me.

“Thanks.” I twirl my fork into the sauce and noodles. “You don’t have to keep bringing my dinner.”

“Oh yes, I do.” She gets four slices of garlic bread from the mini toaster oven and joins me. “You won’t eat if I don’t. Besides, I always have extra.”

She’s lying. Nobody makes this much food when they live alone. I’m grateful she’s helping. There would be many nights I’d only get to eat junk food from the vending machines if it wasn’t for her. I’d love to prepare my meals for work. I don’t have the time. All I’m able to do is grab a bag of snacks and rush out the door. I usually clock in less than five minutes before my shift starts.

Nina sets the plate of garlic bread between us. She doesn’t reach for her fork. Her eyes practically bore a hole into the side of my head. Tonight, we worked together with a couple of patients in the ER. I knew this moment was coming. I reach for my bottle of water and take a sip. Finally, I slowly lift my eyes to meet hers. Sure enough, she’s staring at me.

She reaches toward the left side of my face but doesn’t touch it. “How long are you going to put up with this?”

“It’s nothing.” I drop my head and glance around the lounge. Thankfully, we’re alone.

“That’s not nothing. Makeup doesn’t hide it as well as you think.”

Nina has been a nurse for over ten years. Half of that time, she’s worked in the Emergency Room. She’s seen a lot of horrors come through those doors. If this were a small town, maybe we wouldn’t treat so many serious cases. As sad as it would be, a sick child in the middle of the night would be better than what we see. Every week, it’s a never-ending cycle of car accidents, street fights, gunshots, stabbings, and abuse of every kind. I swear, Los Angeles doesn’t sleep.

“It’ll be okay.” I break off a small piece of garlic bread.

“That’s not true.” Nina’s voice lowers. “And it only gets worse.”

“I can handle it.” I close my eyes, knowing it’s a lie.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Nina sighs. “Let me help you.”

“There’s nothing anyone can do.” There’s not, and I know it.

Joel’s father is a cop. He’s told me several times that there’s no help for me.

“You’re a nurse. You know we’re in a position to report stuff like this.” Nina watches the door. No one enters.

I grab her wrist. “No. Please don’t do it. Please,” I beg.

Nina’s the only friend I have here. If Joel knew about her, he’d make me stop talking to her. All my friends from medical school have drifted away. They buy my excuse that I’m working or going out with my boyfriend.

“You know domestic abuse cases end badly if the woman doesn’t get help.” Nina’s eyes plead with me to listen.

She’s right. Most abuse cases end up here or worse. We treated a woman an hour ago. A fight with her husband brought her here with a broken arm. She needed surgery to reset it. The doctor on duty called the cops. Her husband was arrested when he showed up at the ER to check on her. She was already on the elevator heading to the operating room and missed his threats of finding her when he got out of jail. Hopefully, with the cops hearing him, he stays behind bars a little longer.

As a nurse, I’ve seen several domestic cases over the last three years. I know some women get away from their abusers. They always need help to escape. Most only make the break after being sent to the ER. Some women don’t make it out. Most that do go back to their boyfriends or husbands, and the cycle repeats. It’s what I do. Only I don’t seek medical help. It’s better to treat myself in the bathroom and cover up the bruises with makeup. They’re getting worse, and I know it. As Nina said, makeup isn’t hiding them completely anymore.

My biggest fear about leaving is what will happen to me when he finds me. Joel works at a law firm. He’s still in college andhasn’t sat the bar yet. His dad’s a police officer here in Los Angeles. He has me bound in every legal way possible. We’ve lived together for a year and a half. The first six months were great. The last year has been a nightmare.

“Nobody can help me. Please don’t say anything?” I plead.

Nina is trained to notice the signs of abuse. She let it slip one night that she volunteers at a women’s shelter. A shelter won’t help me. I rarely work with the same nurses in the ER. It’s one of the reasons I asked for this position. The ones I see more than a couple of times a month seem content with minding their business. Nina is in her late thirties. She’s been around a while and doesn’t often look the other way.

Nina reaches over and gently squeezes my hand as two nurses walk in. “If I could, would you let me?”

I squeeze back and whisper, “It’s not possible.”

“You’re wrong, but I won’t push tonight.” Nina picks up her fork and twirls it in the noodles.

I drop my eyes to my plate. I’m too emotional to look up with other people in the room. The two nurses are caught up in their stories about going out next weekend with their friends. I miss those days. I have no one to hang out with except for Joel. Joel Clark only hangs out with his lawyer friends, college buddies, and his family. Sadly, that’s the only places I get to go if I’m allowed out at all.

Could Nina be right? Is there help for someone like me? Can I hope? I don’t dare. It’s why I don’t talk about my personal life with anyone. Hope’s a dangerous thing. It can get you killed if you’re not careful. No, there’s no help or hope for me. Sadly, I’ve accepted my fate. I stay as quiet as I can and don’t cause waves. Sadder yet, there’s only one way out of this for me.

Chapter 4

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