Page 5 of After the Rain
Lights. Footsteps. A warm body. Safety. Oh my god! I passed out on the road after my crappy car died. It was so cold, and my mum was there? Wait. No, she couldn’t have been. She’s nowhere anymore. Then bright lights – headlights maybe – and heavy booted footsteps approaching me. Warm hands on me. That same calm, deep voice.
“I’m going to pick you up and take you back to mine. You can’t stay here, OK?”
I had nodded and then was lifted like I weighed nothing. I remember the wince of pain in my ribs as he adjusted his hold on me, and then my nose was somewhere warm that smelled delicious, like cedar oil and wood shavings. His neck? Ugh, how embarrassing. I nod to the doctor, letting him know I remember.
“OK, good. I’m going to shine a light in your eyes, and I want you to follow it as best you can, OK? It may hurt as your eyes are pretty swollen.”
Pain, like a branding iron being stuck intomy brain as he shines his tiny torch in my eyes. The pain starts to recede, and I do my best to follow the light.
“Good. Your eyes are tracking and responsive. Do you remember what happened? Were you hit by a car?”
“A psycho.”
A beat of silence goes by before the doctor repeats my words.
“A psycho?”
“Yep. My boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend.”
I’m semi-aware of the fact that I maybe shouldn’t be outing myself to these strangers whilst also throwing my shitstorm of drama at them, but I just hurt so much all over and am so tired that I can’t summon the energy to lie. I also should probably take advantage of the fact that this man is a doctor and get him to check me over.
“He, uhm, beat me up pretty badly and, uhm…”
I focus on the doctor’s face. I know I should tell him and get him to check me out, but I’m so embarrassed. What if he asks me why I stayed until this point? He doesn’t know me or my shitty life story. What if he thinks I’m just an idiot? But he’s got a kind face with a soft smile, and a furrow of concern in his brow. I have to trust him. Whatother choice do I have? I look over his shoulder and try to focus on the mountain of a man standing behind him, a black and tan coloured dog shadowing him closely. He’s a blur at first but eventually my brain kicks in and he comes in to focus, and – shit. Well, he’s every fucking lumberjack fantasy I’ve ever had come to life with his massive arms folded over his chest, testing the strength of the seams on his shirt, his dark hair, dark eyes, and even darker beard all adding to his intense stare. And is that a man-bun? Be still my beating dick.
“Uhm, I…” I swallow and focus back on the doctor. I cannot ask him to inspect my arsehole when that sexy wall of man hunk is standing right there staring at me. He probably just wants me to get out of his house as quickly as possible. “I think I need to go to a hospital for a, uhm, private assessment,” I whisper. The doctor’s lips form a straight line, and he winces a little before saying,
“I can absolutely take you to hospital if that’s what you want. It’s about an hour and a half away. Alternatively, I have a clinic in the village, but you seem in pretty bad shape, and I’d really rather check you over here before I move you too much. Is that OK?”
The prospect of sitting in a moving vehicle for an hour and a half and then spending however many hours I might be waiting in an A&E waitingroom is too much to bear. My eyes dart over the doctor’s – I know he told me his name, but I can’t remember it – shoulder again, and he glances behind him before looking at me again and winking his understanding at me.
“Uhm, hey, Aidan? I need some privacy here. Could you go into the kitchen until I tell you the coast is clear? Maybe pop the kettle on? I’m sure we could all use a cup of tea to warm us up.”
Aidan stands stock-still for a few more seconds with his stare still intent on me before he grunts in agreement, walks past the sofa I’m lying on and out of the room, the dog following closely behind him, before a door quietly clicks shut. My headache silently thanks him for the almost silent exit, as I think a banging door may have actually exploded my brain. Although I’m pretty sure he’s holding his tongue tightly in check to prevent from telling me to get the fuck out of his house now that I’m awake again. The doctor – Cash? Nash? – drags my attention back to him by placing his hand on my shoulder.
“OK,” he says. “It’s just us now. I think you better tell me what happened to you. First things first. What’s your name?”
“Rain. My name is Rain.”
Half an hour later, Nash, as he insists Icall him, snaps off his latex gloves with a huff through his nose before making yet another note on his tablet that he had pulled from his bag on the floor. I straighten my clothes before gingerly taking a seat on the sofa again.
“OK, Rain. There is no internal damage that won’t heal in a couple of days, but you have internal bruising, so it’s going to be painful for a while when you sit or walk, OK?” I nod, and he continues, “You have extensive bruising across your torso from the kicks you received, and you have three suspected broken ribs on your left side. You have no signs of internal bleeding, but I would prefer you come into the clinic for a scan to be sure. Your facial bruising and swelling will heal in time, and thankfully, you haven’t broken your nose or your eye socket. I’ve catalogued everything, taken blood samples, which I’ll send off to the lab tomorrow morning so we can make sure you haven’t been passed any infections during the assault, and have taken internal swabs we can share as evidence.”
A wave of panic washes over me, and I immediately start shaking my head then grab Nash’s arm, my blunt fingernails digging into his skin.
“No. No evidence. No police. I just want to disappear. He can’t do it again if he can’t find me. I don’t want him to know where I am. You can’tgo to the police without my consent, right? I don’t consent. I do not consent!” My panic has risen with each word along with my volume, and Nash places a gentle hand on my arm to calm me down and, I suspect, to relieve the pressure of my nails on his own. I peel my fingers off him and guilt swamps me at the little red crescent moon shapes left behind.
“Hey, it’s OK. Nobody is doing anything without your consent. I promise. But Rain, he could have killed you. And he did assault you. He should be going to prison.”
I almost laugh at his naivety. But I find I can’t laugh at Nash. He’s like a golden retriever, all good intentions and kind heartedness.
“He won’t go to prison. He’s a rich arsehole with an even richer arsehole dad who wouldn’t ever let their family reputation be dragged through the mud. He’s got people in his pocket and lawyers up the ying-yang, and I’m pretty sure any police report would disappear. Trust me, it’s better if I’m the one to disappear.”
Nash starts to shake his head, but I cut him off.
“Honestly, I just want to heal and move on. I finally left.” My voice breaks as I wait for him to judge the fact that I stayed as long as I did. “And now, I never want to see or think about himever again.” I know that second point is unlikely as every bite of pain reminds me of the prick who gave it to me, but the intention is true enough, and I will get there. “If you can just give me the details of a BnB or somewhere cheap that I can stay until I get a job, then I can pay your bill.” Trust me to find a doctor who runs a private clinic rather than the NHS. Although I suppose that means it will be a bit easier for him to keep my name off the books.
“There’s no bill, Rain. I’m not that much of a dick. I can’t say the same for my brother though.” He winks again with a smile that tells me he’s kidding. “Can I tell him it’s OK to come back in?” I nod and wait while he calls Aidan back into the room. He comes almost immediately with three mismatched mugs hooked in his hands, and a small plate balanced on his forearm. I recognise one of the mugs. It’s brown, with the word ‘smarties’ across the middle, and pictures of the small colourful sweets raining around the word. I had this same mug when I was a kid. It came with an Easter egg, and it makes me weirdly emotional as I think about my mum giving it to me. The dog that had been trailing him earlier now jumps up on the sofa next to me and leans heavily into my side.
