Another long silence stretches between us while she thinks about her next words. “Do you have any injuries that need tending?”
I sigh again. I should let the doctor look at my burns. At least some of them are infected if the redness and swelling around them are any indication. “Yes.” I nod, the movement sending sparks of pain shooting through my neck.
“Can the doctor come in and collect samples and treat your wounds?” She asks so politely, making it all sound so reasonable, making me feel unreasonable because it is reasonable. Freaking out when the doctor wanted to look me over was unreasonable, and now that I’m calming down, I know it.
“Grayson and the man who found me seemed to know who did this.” I motion vaguely to myself.
She answers right away, “They do.”
I think for a moment before I ask, “Samples will help put them all away?” Part of me knows the police will need evidence to do that, and I need to let this happen, but the thought of a man putting his hands on me makes my skin crawl. Even the doctor. The only exception seems to be Gray. When he was holding me, I felt safe. Protected. I’ve never seen anyone as huge as him. There’s no way anyone could ever hurt me while he’s near.
“It will.” Her reply is exactly what I expect her to say, what I know to be true. You can’t convict someone without evidence that they committed a crime. DNA evidence coupled with my testimony will help. I know she’s right. The sooner I can get it over with, the sooner I can take a shower and wash the filth from my body. I don’t know how long it will take before the sounds of their voices and the feel of their hands will go away. Maybe never. I’ll never be clean on the inside. I can feel the blackness they caused darkening my soul, but for now the chance to be physically clean sounds like the most wonderful thing on earth.
“Bring in the doctor then, I want to take a shower,” I know my words sound bitchy and demanding, but it’s either that or give in to the pressure building behind my eyes threatening to release a torrent of tears that I may not ever be able to stop.
Ana struggles to her feet and vaguely I realize that I should’ve helped her up, but she doesn’t seem upset by my lack of assistance or my snotty tone. She crosses the room with a gentle smile and opens the door a crack. Grayson is standing in the hall beyond her, an anxious look on his tired face.
“She’s ready to see Dr. Halvorson,” she murmurs to him. Grayson’s eyes meet mine across the distance between us and I nod slightly, letting him know it was my decision. He smiles, and the small tilt at the corner of his lips bolsters my courage before he turns and strides down the hall. Ana returns to stand beside me while I nervously wait for the doctor, her silent presence a relief. I wouldn’t be so scared if the doctor was a woman, instead of being a man almost as massive as Grayson.
Just thinking about being examined has the cloud of numbness protecting my mind fading. A fine tremble wracks my body, settling in my hands and deep in the pit of my stomach. Clasping my fingers together tightly I stare down at them and try to regulate my breathing as I try to banish the memory of the vile words spat at me in the kitchen of that terrible house. I recognized the voice even if I didn’t see his face. The owner of that voice was always the first one to show up when his boss called them down to play with me. Play, they called it, like I was a toy whose only reason for being was their amusement and pleasure. My suffering was their entertainment.
Every hidden fear I ever had was realized when I woke up in the torture room and now I don’t know if I’m going to make it through a medical examination. Even if I’m able to convince him that I don’t need to be examined… there, just the thought of having to bare my body to his hands and eyes, sends terror coursing through my veins. I know it’s unfounded. Grayson brought me here and my head tells me it’s a safe place, but my body disagrees. Ana seems nice. Protective, even though she doesn’t know me. I’m sure the doctor is a nice person too but I can’t stave off the feeling of dread about this.
Unwilling to remain on the ground showing fear, I rise and stand as straight as my battered body allows. I’ve spent enough time weak and at the mercy of others enough to last the rest of my life. No more. A quick rap on the door announces Dr. Halvorson’s return and I freeze as the door opens. His gaze meets mine before I can look away. His eyes are gentle and kind, with so much compassion in their depths that it makes my own burn with tears. I blink them back ruthlessly. Crying will only make me feel worse, and I already feel awful enough.
“Nikki. Ana.” His voice is low and soothing in the strained silence of the room. It’s the way someone would talk to a skittish animal. It reminds me of the time I tried to catch a stray, injured cat in a trailer park I lived in when I was a teenager. I tried so hard, but I was never able to catch it. No amount of gentle coaxing made any difference and I finally had to give up and go inside. I found it dead under the porch the next morning.
That’s when it hits me, this is my wounded animal moment. I have the option to shut down and run away. Refuse care and return to my apartment (if it’s still mine since rent was due over a week ago). I can lock myself away in fear until I stop existing. None of these people mean anything to me. Except Grayson a small voice reminds me, and I can’t deny that in that basement the only thoughts that gave me comfort were reliving the hours I spent with him, truly happy and carefree for what felt like the first time in my life.
My other choice is to face this head-on. Give the police what they need, use my voice and ask for help, and accept the hand that’s being offered. I’ve never backed down from anything, not once in my life, and even though I’m terrified of what it means, I refuse to curl up and die because horrible men did terrible things to me. Not today. Not any day. I’m going to fight. And I’m going to live, even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Sucking in a trembling breath I reach blindly for Ana’s hand, needing a connection to someone while I face this. Her slender fingers squeeze mine firmly, lending me strength. I know this won’t be easy, but nothing in my life ever has been. I can do this.
“Doctor.” I push out painfully, the word grinding like broken glass in my throat. He smiles, unable to hide his surprise that I spoke to him. After my breakdown earlier I’m sure he thought that I would still be a mess. I am. I’m just not going to show it.
“Before we get started Nikki I’d like you to tell me a little about yourself.”
He’s trying to help make me less uncomfortable with him, but my throat is so sore that I really don’t want to talk. Swallowing gingerly against the raspiness I try. “I’m twenty-five. I live alone. No family.” Glancing over at Ana I mouth, “Can I have some water?”
“Oh, Nikki! I’m so sorry. I should have thought of that,” she rushes clumsily into the en suite and returns a few moments later with a glass of water. I take it from her hand gratefully and lift the glass to my peeling lips, taking a small, soothing sip. The cold water flowing down my parched throat is the best thing I’ve ever felt. I sigh from the pure pleasure of it before returning my hesitant gaze to his.
“Talking hurts,” I say, trying to explain, lightly touching my injured larynx.
“Would it be okay if I take a look?” His question is casual, but I know it’s the opening he was hoping for. In any other circumstances I would want to laugh at how obvious he’s being, but I’m not amused. I nod my assent then continue to stand uncomfortably, unsure of what I’m supposed to do now. I hardly ever go to the doctor, so I’m not even sure what the normal etiquette is, and there is nothing remotely normal about this situation.