“Um...they came out of nowhere and started chasing me. When one of them caught up with me, he threatened me with a knife, told me he wouldn’t hurt me if I’d just cooperate.”
"Now listen up, you cunt. This is how it's gonna go. You're going to stop trying to maim us, and you're going to open those pretty legs of yours. If you try screaming for help again, I'll slit your fucking throat. If you take it like a good girl until we're done with you, you get to live. Understand?"
"Cooperate, how?"
I swallow the lump in my throat. “He told me to open my legs and take it like a good girl.”
Officer Dominguez takes a deep breath. “And then what?”
“At one point, I got ahold of the knife, but he tried getting it back.” I hold up my left arm. “That’s when this got broken, I guess. Then he stabbed me during the struggle. Things get a little fuzzy after that.”
More note-taking. "Can you remember any details about their physical appearance? Hair color, build, things like that?"
I think about it for a moment. "They were both tall...one guy had a thinner build, like a runner, and the one who stabbed me was pretty muscular. He was really heavy but solid. Their masks covered their whole head, so I don't know about hair color or anything."
She looks me directly in the eye. “I know this next question will be difficult, but I need to ask based on the condition you were in when you arrived. Were you sexually assaulted?”
I clear my throat, cursing the dryness. My nurse must be reading my mind because she turns on the faucet in the little sink and hands me a paper cup filled with water.
“Thank you.” I take a few swallows before continuing. “Yes, but not...fully. He didn’t put anything inside of me. Not for lack of trying, but when he stabbed me, they got freaked out and ran off. I think the knife was just meant to scare me.”
Answering that question was hard enough when one of my nurses first asked, but I understand the officer needs to be thorough.
“Oh, shit, man! You stabbed her! You fucking stabbed her! We need to get the hell out of here!”
"Look what you did, you dumb bitch. You could've just spread your legs, and this would've never happened."
“Did either of them say anything that stands out, or do you know anyone who’d want to potentially harm you?”
“Do you see this gorgeous little pussy? She’s freshly waxed and everything. It’s like she was waiting for us. Our employer will understand.”
“Um...I don’t think so.” I don’t know why I omit those facts, but my gut instinct is telling me to keep it to myself
.
"Can you think of anything else that may help locate your attackers?"
I shake my head. “Not that I can think of.”
"Okay. I think I have enough for now." Officer Dominguez asks for my phone number, then removes a card from her shirt pocket and places it on the bedside table. "Here's my contact info if you remember anything else. Anything at all. Please don’t hesitate to reach out. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be in touch as soon as I have more information from the crime scene.”
“Thank you.”
I release a heavy sigh as she leaves the room.
"Can I get you anything?" Nurse Marika asks. "They'll be serving lunch in about an hour, but I can grab you a snack if you'd like."
I totally forgot she was here, so I jump a little when she speaks. “Uh...no, I’m okay. Thank you. I think I’d just like to nap.”
I notice the surfboard print on her scrubs when she pauses in the doorway. “I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but the gentleman that was here yesterday hasn’t left the hospital once. His friends have been in and out, but he’s been here the whole time. He seems really worried about you—he’s constantly asking if you’re allowing visitors yet.”
"Thanks for letting me know." I sigh. "I still don't want any visitors, though."
Marika nods. “Of course.”
I stare at the ceiling as she leaves the room. Why in the hell do I feel guilty right now? So what if Kingston has been here for over forty-eight hours? I can barely walk to the bathroom that’s five feet away. Under the circumstances, I think it’s perfectly reasonable to not want anyone around me while I’m so defenseless. Kingston can hang around the hospital all he wants, but I’m not letting him back in my room.
“A YOUNG LADY NAMED Ainsley brought this by while you were napping.” My nurse sets my cell phone on the bedside table and my overnight bag on the built-in bench. “She thought you might need them.”
I pick up my phone, smiling at Ainsley's thoughtfulness. All of my things, including my phone, were back at the lake house. I was dreading trying to make arrangements to collect them. I could do without the clothes, but there's one number in my contacts that I don't have memorized and really need. Surprisingly, there's only one text notification, and of course, it's from Kingston.
I take a deep breath as I unlock my phone and read the message.
Kingston: Contact forwarded: Belle Rivera-Washington
What the heck? I open the contact card and see Belle’s name with an iCloud address on it. When did she get an Apple device to have one of those?
I immediately dial Kingston's number, and he answers on the first ring.
“I see the nurse delivered your stuff.”
I get straight to the point. “Why are you sending me contact information for my sister?”
He releases a deep chuckle. "I know you were frustrated having to go through Jerome, so I eliminated the middleman. Belle now has a brand new iPad so you can FaceTime as often as you'd like. It's hooked up to a cellular network, and the bill is in my name, so there's no risk of it being shut off for non-payment. Don't worry about her dad—he's been taken care of as well. He won't interfere."
“But...how? Why?”
"Ainsley and Reed dropped by your sister's house and explained why you missed our standing date last Sunday...an explanation appropriate for a seven-year-old, anyway. Belle knows you were hurt, and you're in the hospital, but that you'll be okay. She's expecting your call whenever you're feeling up to it."
Damn him. He knows my little sister, Belle, is my greatest weakness. Her father, Jerome, rarely answers the phone when I call, and half the time, he makes some excuse why Belle can't talk. I'm not sure why he's constantly keeping me away from her, but I suspect it may be a control thing. He wants to remind me who has custody of her and who's really in charge.
Kingston's assurance that Jerome won't interfere tells me he's paying him to allow it, just like he pays him for our weekly visits. I hate that Kingston did this because he's once again using Belle to get closer to me, but I can't say it doesn't make me happy having such an easy way to speak with her.
Infuriatingly confusing man.
My mother would be ashamed of me for not acknowledging the gift, so I suck it up and say, “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
I swear I can hear him smile. “That was really hard for you to spit out, wasn’t it?”
“No,” I grumble.