Page 204 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Dad brushing my hair from my sweaty forehead wakes me up, and that light attacks me again.
“That’s something you’re best discussing with the psychologist.” The doctor smiles sadly.
“Will he ever be okay? Physically? Mentally? There are just so many fucking cuts, scars. His hand, is that a burn?”
“It is. We believe a fire caused it. There are more on his shoulders and back. We have treated and dressed the affected areas. We don’t believe he needs a skin graft.”
“Is that why he’s on fluids?”
I eye the little bag above me, half-full with liquid.
“We want to maintain his blood pressure now that we’ve managed to elevate it. It was very low when he was brought in.”
“God. This stuff should never have happened.” The growing sadness in Dad’s voice weakens whatever walls I’ve built around my heart. Heat flushes my cheeks, and I fight the tears clawing at the side of my eyes.
His dry knuckles scrape over my heated cheek, and the little monitor at my side picks up the faster speed of my heart monitor with a little beep.
“Look at all these. Look at what’s happened to his fucking face.” Dad’s words hurt. They make me feel ugly as he looks away from me.
The doctor leaves my side, moving to his station before heading to my father with a tissue in hand.
Dad’s fingers drop to my neck, the thickest of all my scars right below the touch. It sets my hair on edge.
I swallow, the feeling different since my injury.
“This—it looks like?—”
“It looks like his throat was slit.” The doctor hands the tissue to Dad as he silently sobs over me. “And if I were to guess, I’d say it’s been professionally stitched. Given the severity of this gash, it’s healed well.”
Dad pats his eyes, drying them only slightly. Another tight smile is given to me before he turns to my doctor. “Have you heard him talk? Can he? Like, will that scar impact his speech? When he said his sister’s name, there was no sound.”
“It’s possible. We have yet to hear him attempt a conversation. We’ll have to run some tests to be sure. I would also like to run some other tests.”
“What kind of tests?”
“I feel it’s best you take a seat, Mr. La’Darragh.” The doctor offers the chair that my dad has ignored for everything other than holding his brown leather jacket.
“What? Why?”
“Please,” the doctor offers again with an extended arm.
Dad sinks into the chair.
The doctor continues, “When he was brought in, along with your daughter, they were filthy, wet, and cold. When changing their clothes, we noticed some trauma?—”
“Ambrose? Where’s Ambrose? Where is he?” Dollie’s voice pulls me up on the bed, fighting the protests of my aching body and head.
Dollie…
My heart races.
I need her.
“Ronan?” Mom’s voice comes into the private room. A rattle of knuckles follows, then the heavy door pushes open. I catch a glimpse of police officers, some in uniform, some in suits with badges on their hips. All of them at the door as Dollie chargesin, her hair clean and glowing gold under the bright lights that I can’t stand.
“Oh, princess!” Dad turns into her path as she runs to me, pulling her into his strong arms. “God, you’re so tiny. What’s happened to you both?” He takes her small, burned fingers to his lips and kisses her knuckles.
“Ouch.” Dollie winces when his stubble gets her.
