Page 179 of Perfect
He showed up.
As I open my mouth to ask the doctor where Theo is and if he’s okay, she pulls out a small biohazard bag from her pocket and holds it up to me. There’s a tiny, slightly bloody item in the bag, and I blink slowly, trying to figure out what I’m seeing.
“This was found in your body during your MRI. We didn’t know what it was at first, but one of the nurses did some digging. It’s a subcutaneous tracker. Did you know about this, Mrs. Murphy?” I don’t answer her, I just stare at the bag.
If Danny had put it there, it wouldn’t have taken him a year to find me.
My eyes slide past the doctor and land on the ceiling as a different kind of excruciating pain shoots through my body. I shut down to try and escape it, but I’m too overwhelmed to be numb. The pain triggers more pain, and soon I’m staring at the ceiling, frozen as I feel every emotion I’ve been pushing down and outrunning for ten years.
It’s so agonizing that I can’t do anything but lie there andfeel.
I’m hiding too far inside myself to do anything other than stare at the ceiling, and I’m put through another MRI because I can’t acknowledge any of my doctors or nurses. I think Theovisits at some point a few hours later, but I’m not sure. The police must come at some point, but I can’t remember.
I can’t crawl out of the black pit I’ve slipped into.
At some point, on some day, when the room is dark and everything is quiet, I start to cry silently, and I don’t stop for hours, not until a nurse makes her rounds. I shut down and wait until she’s gone before I start sobbing again.
Catherine and Suzie visit, Anna and Jessica visit, and Bailey visits almost every day. They all tell me that Theo’s a wreck and asking about me constantly, but they can’t see how much pain hearing about Theo causes me.
Theo, who microchipped me like a dog and fuckingliedto me about it.
When I know I’m alone, I cry abouteverything. I barely sleep for days on end, followed by days where all I do is sleep. I have flashbacks and nightmares of Danny that span a decade, and nightmares of Theo killing Danny, and dreams of Theo standing over me, broken and defeated and covered in blood.
I start engaging with the hospital staff, but I can’t speak to anyone. I’m too overwhelmed to open my mouth.
I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll never stop screaming.
After a few weeks, Bailey brings Miles’ favorite stuffed cat and rests it by my hand.
“Miles wants me to tell you he hopes you feel better,” Bailey says quietly, and I grip the little orange cat tightly. “He’s been asking about you every day. Can I bring him?” I nod, trying not to cry.
The first time I speak to anyone is to thank Miles and tell him that his cat made me feel better. It’s not a lie, and it makes him smile.
The next time I speak to anyone, I tell the nurses to keep Theo the fuck away from me and that I’m not taking any of his calls.
I’m not talking to that absolute fuckingasshole.
Once I start talking, the police show up again. I tell them I don’t remember anything about what happened, aside from Danny kidnapping me and nearly killing me.
My memories and my feelings are my fucking business, and I haven’t made up my mind about what to do with them yet. Mostly, I haven’t made up my mind about what to do withhimyet.
On top of crying and sleeping and feeling, I start to think.
***
I’m talking to a newer doctor on rotation about when I’ll be able to go home when a tall woman in a fashionable suit knocks on my door as she walks in. I’ve seen her in the hallways before, and I know my nurses have turned her away, but I don’t know who she is.
“Sorry to interrupt. Should I come back?” I look at her with trepidation and shake my head, beckoning her in before turning back to the doctor.
“Anyway, Mrs. Murphy, like I was saying -” I flinch hard. Definitely a new doctor.
“Shearer,” the woman interrupts smoothly but sharply. “It’s Ms. Shearer, doctor. That should be explicitly listed on her charts.” I’m not sure how she would know that, but I shoot her a look of appreciation anyway.
“Right. Sorry about that, Ms. Shearer. I was saying we’d like to keep you for a few more days, but you can check out at any time.” I nod and look at the woman pointedly. The doctor clears his throat and flips my chart closed. “I’ll let you two talk, then.” I ignore him as he walks out, still looking at the woman.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice soft and hoarse from disuse. “How’d you know?”
“I’m the one who made sure that was listed.” She smiles at me, offering me a soft, well-manicured hand. “I’m Elise Hughes.” I shake her hand quickly and stare at her, waiting. “I’m Theodore Anderson’s attorney.” I groan and drop my head to my knees.
