Page 153 of Shattered

“Sam?” Callum furrowed his brow as he tentatively sat on the bed next to her. “Sam, give me your hands.”

He reached out to slowly pry her fingers from the grip they had on her arms. He sucked in a shaky breath.

“Hey! Connor!” Callum urgently stated as he began to rub his hand across her arm.

She heard Connor’s quick footsteps and in moments he was standing beside Callum. It was odd to see them side by side. So alike and yet so different.

“Get something to wipe this off and maybe a bandage. She dug her fingernails into her arm.”

Connor ran his hand through his hair just like Callum did. Apparently, that habit was genetic in nature. She almost wanted to laugh at the movement. But then she thought she might not know how to laugh anymore, and that bubble of humor that had started to seep upward was halted by a new invisible brick wall within her mind.

The nurse came in before Connor had a chance to respond, stating they still needed to collect evidence for the rape kit. That phrase caused another wave of nausea to race through Sam. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the world as the nurse explained the process. She vaguely remembered nodding in agreement, asking Kristin to stay, and then Kristin ushering Micah and a very unwilling Callum out of the room.

It was amazing how well someone could disassociate from what was occurring around them—to them. Sam focused on Kristin’s arms that encompassed her and listened as she hummed along to a broken tune as the nurse did what needed to be done.

They both cried when it was over.

She had no idea how long they stayed in that room. At some point, Kristin had found a comb and managed to somehow tame the mess on her head. She had also spent a considerable amount of time wiping off the mascara stains that her tears had spread across Sam’s cheeks.

When she was being discharged, the nurse rolled in a wheelchair for her to use. Callum quickly shook his head and then proceeded to pick her up and carry her all the way to the car.

She wanted to tell him she could walk or that she was fine, but in all honesty, she was too tired to even force the words out.

The ride home was silent and all she could focus on were the circles Callum traced on her hands.

Callum all but carried her into the house while Kristin ran upstairs to start a bath. Sam had no idea what time it was, but as Kristin was washing the soap out of her hair, she saw the light from the sunrise flow in from the bathroom window. By the time she got into bed next to Callum, the sun was completely up and she was barely able to keep her eyes open.

“I’m here, okay?” Callum said as he ran his fingers through her damp hair.

“I’m scared to go to sleep,” she admitted as tears filled her eyes. It was the first time she’d spoken since leaving the hospital.

At some point over the last two weeks since they’d returned home from Charleston, she had told him about all the nightmares that had plagued her after enduring life in that foster home all those years ago. She knew even worse nightmares were about to come.

“I know. But I’m here, and I’m staying up. I’ll wake you the second they start.”

She rolled into him then and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She breathed him in. That smell—hissmell—was somehow the one thing she needed to help calm her.

Chapter 59 - Sam

Five Weeks Later - June

“Hi,” Sam timidly stated as she walked down the steps.

“Hey,” Callum replied as he slowly lifted his hand to reach out and touch her.

Five weeks of therapy later, and she still sometimes flinched when someone touched her. Even him. She knew it broke him every time, but she couldn’t make it stop.

But today was a good day.

She melted into his arms and said, “You didn’t have to stay. Kristin said she could pick me up.”

“I know. I still wanted to be here.” Callum kissed her cheek.

He never missed a session. He was always there. She’d come out to find him sitting in the lobby, or the car, or on the front porch steps after every single session.

She had initially balked at the idea of weekly therapy sessions at the trauma counseling center. She was supposed to be able to adapt to anything that was thrown in her face. She was supposed to be resilient. She’d quickly learned it didn’t matter how strong you were, there were just some things you shouldn’t have to go through alone.

It also helped that it happened to be only a mile or so away from Topline. And if she was being completely honest, the therapy wasn’t horrible.

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