Page 38 of Riding the Line
“You have some good friends,” the nurse said, giving me a friendly grin. She turned on a small overhead light, and opened my shirt to look at my stomach. There was a neat row of stitches that stretched from one side to the other, another small set on my shoulder and, judging from the itchiness in my leg, probably another set there.
I was Frankenstein’s monster.
“Any itchiness, soreness, fevers, or chills?” I gave her an incredulous look and she patted my knee. “I meant around the suture sites, dear. Any soreness there specifically?” She had clearly been doing this a long time, reading me like a book.
“My leg itches like there’s something crawling in my skin, and my stomach feels tight when I move, but other than that, nothing.”
She nodded. “Good, that’s to be expected. The itchiness is from your body trying to build new tissue, bridging the gap between one side to the other. That tightness is just proof that it’s working away. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why it feels like someone scooped out your insides with a rusty spoon?”
“I have a few questions, actually.”
“Absolutely. The doctor is on his way, and he’ll be able to answer everything. Right now, I’m going to go find you a few extra pillows, and something to drink. Just water, for now, until you’re cleared for other fluids. I’ll be right back.”
She shut the door gently behind her, and I looked at the two men who had never taken their eyes off me.
“It was bad, huh?”
Dalton suddenly found the ceiling tiles very interesting, blinking furiously and refusing to look back at me. Mac’s voice, usually so calm and cool, was ragged as he said, “You died in my arms. Then again on the table. These past three days, watching you fight to live while I could do nothing but… sit here. Just fucking sitting here and praying to a god I barely believe in, hoping you would come back to me.”
I stared at him. “Three days? I was out for three days?”
Before he could respond, the doctor came bustling into the room and flipped on the light, absolutely blinding me. The same nurse from earlier followed, putting a pitcher of water and some pillows on the counter.
“Alright,gentlemen, why don’t you wait in the lobby while I have a talk with my patient?”
They both looked at the doctor, but didn’t budge.
“It’s okay,” I reassured the doctor. “They can stay, I don’t mind.”
The doctor looked between the three of us and sighed. “In that case, let’s get started.”
He walked me through the details of my condition when I got to the hospital, which could be summed in a few words—really, really fucking bad. As he talked, I ran my hands over my body, noting the bruises that were in the shape of teeth and the wounds that would scar. More for my collection. I could almost feel the ghost of hateful hands on me. I started shaking, realizing just how close I had been to dying. Before he could finish with the whole recovery how-to, I jumped to my feet—or tried to. I must have blacked out before my feet even hit the ground, because the next thing I knew, I was back in bed.
I don’t know if it was seeing myself in the light for the first time, or the clinical way the doctor spoke, or just the trauma of the whole thing hitting me at once, but I started sobbing. Each broken gasp for air sent a lightning strike of pain through my entire body, making me cry even harder. Mac and Dalton were damn near frantic, the doctor yelling at them to calm down, which I’m sure only made it worse. When Dalton reached for me, I couldn’t help but flinch. I barely registered the flash of hurt across his face. Over their shoulders, my eyes met the nurse’s, and with one look, she understood.
“Enough, everyone. All of you, out. Dr. Jaques, respectfully, that includes you. Ms. Moore needs a moment to herself.”
Mac and Dalton protested, but she fixed them with an unwaveringly stern look.
“You may wait in the hallway. Surely you can see all this yelling and hovering isn’t what she needs right now?”
My sobs had dissolved into hiccups, and I was hunched in on myself, trying topretend the pain away. Mac looked at me, and Dalton took a step back, giving me space.
“Vixen, baby?”
I couldn’t look at them.
“Please, please go.”
Like kicked puppies, they finally left the room, and I watched them through a small window as they disappeared down the hallway. I vaguely heard the doctor instruct the nurse to let him know when I was ready to go over everything else. Then it was just me and her in the room. She approached me slowly. Her voice was gentle and soothing.
“Oh, sweet girl. You’ve been through so much, but you don’t have to be so strong. It’s okay to cry.”
I did so, burying my head in my hands. She came up beside me, and didn’t try to touch me but said, “You woke up not even an hour ago, honey. Your body has barely had time to process the amount of pain you must be in. Then some stranger comes in and tells you how he had to cut you open to keep you from dying. And all from a man putting his hands on you when he had no business to. I’m sure you must feel overwhelmed.”
I hesitated to admit it but somehow, it felt like she—out of all people—would understand.
“I hadn’t seen the bite marks before. I didn’t realize, I had no idea—can I ask, he didn’t…” I could barely get the damn word out, afraid of the answer. “Did he rape me?”
