Page 115 of Player Problems

She smiles, but it’s sad. “No,” she admits, and that more than anything makes me worry more about her. “It was my dad,” she confesses, her voice breaking.

I don’t understand. Not even a little bit. I thought she didn’t even know who her dad was. That she had no memories of him. I want to ask, but she seems as lost and confused as I am. I brush the hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I’m here, Ryn. For anything you need.”

“I don’t understand,” she confesses. She sounds so young.

“I don’t either, baby.” I kiss her temple, hesitating to tell her this next part. “But I know who might have answers for you.”

She closes her eyes and I know she doesn’t want to tell her grandma. But it’s too late. For a lot of reasons. “She’s your emergency contact.” She doesn’t open her eyes, only taking deep breaths, no doubt trying to calm her racing thoughts.

“Is she on her way?”

I squeeze her hand in mine. “She’ll be here any minute.” When she opens her eyes I can see how much that news breaks her heart and my chest aches for her. “You wouldn’t have been able to hide this from her. Reporters are already calling for a comment. There’s likely going to be a trial. You need your family’s support. Let them be there for you the way you are there for them.”

She turns her face away from me, but I catch her chin with my finger and gently tilt her face back towards, pressing a feather light kiss over her bruised lips. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not,” she croaks, and I hush her, telling her to save her voice for her grandma and when the officers come in. The doctors have locked them out, telling them she needs rest and treatment, but our grace period is rapidly dwindling down.

Only a few minutes later, her grandma rushes into the room, her eyes wild with fear and red with tears. “Oh, Ryn,” she sobs as she spots her lying in the bed. Torryn’s eyes fly open at thesound of her grandma’s voice and her tears are quick to rise as she breaks down in her grandma’s arms. I stay at her side, but step back to give the two of them room. Sometimes all you need is a hug from the person who raised you. It’s something I can’t give to her.

They both cry and I hand them both tissues as I guide her grandma to the seat I was sitting in. “What happened?” her grandma finally asks as both their tears slow.

I put my hand on Torryn’s leg and gently squeeze. “Want me to grab Officer Derek so you only have to say it once?” At her consent, I go into the hallway and grab him. He’s been posted at her door for a while now, but at least he respects the need to put her well being first. I already gave him my statement when I wasn’t able to go with her for her scans, so I’m able to stay with her when he comes inside.

Torryn’s voice grows smaller and more hoarse the longer she tells her story, until by the end it’s barely above a whisper. Her grandma pales as she listens, cursing under her breath.

“Oh, Torryn. This is all my fault.”

Officer Derek took notes while Torryn talked, but didn’t interrupt her, not even to ask her questions for clarity. Her voice was barely able to handle what she was able to share, let alone answer anything more. But at her grandma’s words, all attention turns to her.

“I should have told you sooner,” she cries. “I wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me that you had a stalker. A stalker, Ryn?”

Guilt lines Tor’s face, but there’s a healthy level of defiance still in her eyes. She won’t ever regret not putting more burdens on her grandma’s plate, but she hates that her decision hurt the woman. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, but it barely makes it past her lips.

Her grandma shakes her head. “No, no. This is my fault. Your father was never a good person,” she starts. “Somehow, you’ve blocked all the memories and made up your own story to fit the details you couldn’t deny.”

Officer Derek, takes his notebook out, adding notes to what he already has. “That’s a common defense mechanism from trauma, especially in children. Can I have you expand on how her father wasn’t a good person? Was there abuse before today’s incident?”

Torryn lays shell shocked in bed, staring at her grandma as if she’s speaking a language she’s never heard before. I move closer to her side and she grabs my hand. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I know concussion protocol, and part of it is not stressing her mental health. I don’t know if she can handle reliving any more trauma than she’s already been forced to.

She tugs on my hand and I lean down close enough for her lips to brush against my ear as she whispers, “It’ll be worse to wonder.”

I press a kiss to her temple, wishing I could hold her in my arms, but I don’t think the hospital bed is big enough. “Whatever it is, I’ve got you.”

Her grandma takes a deep breath, clutching the necklace hanging around her neck. “Your mother wasn’t sick, Torryn.” Torryn pales and her hand begins to tremble in mine. Even I’m shocked and it’s something I’ve only believed for a couple months, not years of my life. Her grandma turns to Officer Derek. “If you pull the medical records for Ivy Elaine Myers, you’ll find evidence that shows a history of domestic violence and abuse.”

The hospital trips she remembered, but never fully. Just the smell and the wall and the cold rooms that seeped into her bones. Her mom was never sick. Torryn’s eyes glaze over and I once again wonder if this is really okay for her right now. Herhand moves to her chin and caresses the scar she once told me about.

Her eyebrows scrunch as she stares at her grandma. “The accident?”

At her nod, Torryn closes her eyes, turning away from everyone and facing me. Pain etches over her grandma’s face, but she looks at Officer Derek once more, steel entering her voice. “Her father’s name is William Dane Myers. He was just released from prison after causing a fatal car accident while under the influence that resulted in two deaths. Including my daughter and his wife, Ivy. We believed the crash was intentional and meant to kill himself, my daughter, and my granddaughter, but Torryn survived. He took a plea deal and was sentenced ten years for an aggravated DUI in Illinois. He was released earlier this year on good behavior, but missed his most recent parole check in.” She gets choked up. “I thought I was doing the right thing letting her believe the story she made up. I didn’t think he’d come find us. He hated being a father. We moved states, and changed the kids’ last name. I thought we did everything right.”

Officer Derek pats her on the back. “You couldn’t have forced her to remember. You made the best decisions with the information you had. With this, we’ll be able to get him back where he belongs. Behind bars.”

Torryn’s body shakes with her cries and fuck it. I lift her up, easing her IVs around until I can sit on the bed, holding her against my chest. She needs to be held after this fucking nightmare come to life.

She buries her face in my chest. “It’s all my fault.” I can barely make out the words, but I’m already shaking my head.

“I don’t know what’s running through your head, Ryn, and I don’t care. I don’t need to know to say that none of what happened is your fault. Not today, and not back then.”

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