Page 22 of Unwell
NANCY
Deep, wracking sobs hit me before I reached the ward. I followed the sound to the one room I hoped it wouldn’t be coming from.
Please, God, not her room.
But of course, it was Ginny’s room.
Broken gasps rattled through the musty morning air.
Ginny lay curled on her bed like a wounded animal, arms locked around her stomach. Blood smeared her nightdress, slick and heavy against the sheets. Her hair, what was left of it, clung in sticky blonde strands to her cheeks and neck, matted to the pillow, scattered in ragged clumps across the floor. Where the hair had been hacked away, her scalp was raw, weeping red where skin had been scraped down to nothing.
I froze at the doorway, breath seizing in my chest.
‘My God…’ I whispered, breaking through my hesitation and rushing to her side. ‘What did you do?’
Ginny’s eyes lifted. All red-rimmed and shining with tears.
‘I didn’t.’ Her words came out broken and small, as though her sobs had clawed her throat raw. ‘Someone hurt me.’
I scanned the room, desperately seeking answers. Nothing sharp was to be seen. No scissors, no knives, nothing that could show it to be self-inflicted. The shadows lay empty, the other patients having given the injured woman a wide berth. Ginny lay alone, her teeth chattering as she curled in on herself.
‘Who hurt you? Did you see them? Is there anything that could tell me who it was?’
Ginny shook her head in barely controlled jerks.
‘No. They were behind me. On top of me. I couldn’t see and I couldn’t stop them.’
‘Oh, sweet girl, I’m so sorry.’ Her trembling plight had my heart breaking for her.
‘It’s all gone. Elijah won’t love me any more.’ Ginny’s fingers scraped through the stubbled, tufted mess of her scalp. A half-wail, half-howl tore from her.
I caught her wrists and held them tight.
‘Stop hurting yourself, Ginny. It’ll be all right.’
I pulled her to my chest, pressing her wails into my shoulder to muffle them. My palm found the swell of her belly as I stilled my breath and felt for movement within.
The movement came, small but firm. A flutter of life beneath my hand.
Relief.
The sensation surged so violently that my throat choked up with it. Whatever had happened to Ginny, the baby was safe.
‘He will love you,’ I assured her. ‘You’re still beautiful. Like a perfect little doll.’
And she was.
Even with her hair shorn to messy tufts and her face streaked with tears, she remained delicate. A porcelain stray filled to bursting with life. An angel trapped in hell.
‘Even like this?’ She trembled in my arms, and the ache in her voice nearly broke me.
Attempting to comfort her, I cupped her jaw and tipped her face upward. Ginny’s skin was warm and damp under my fingertips. We remained there for countless heartbeats until she closed the space between us. Her lips brushed mine with a tenderness that stole my breath. It may have been wrong to allow her seeking, but I didn’t pull away.
I couldn’t.
Not at first.
It was a sweetness I hadn’t known in years. So soft. Nothing like Robert’s rough hands. Nothing like his selfish rutting. Even tainted with tears and blood, she was sweet compared to Robert’s stink of sweat and cigarettes.
