"If I had left without doing it, he would know that I left. I wanted to buy sometime, maybe even throw him off this evening long enough to get settled."
Landon takes my hand, his voice low. "I need to call the police, or they will. You need to file a report, Harper. If nothing more than for protection."
"Please try to understand," my body curls in on itself as fear churns in my stomach. "I have no doubt if I file one, he'll try to kill me." No sooner does it leave my mouth than there's a knock at the door and a lady walks in.
"Miss. Jennings, I'm Doctor Burgess." My eyes shoot to Scout. My sister-in-law listed me under my maiden name. She reaches for my shaky hand when I offer it. "This is?"
"My brother Landon and his wife, Scout." I introduce them, hoping she'll dismiss them after.
She nods with a smile. "Thank you, folks for being here for her, if you don't mind, we'll spend some time together while you speak to the detective in the other room."
"Will you be Alright?" Landon wraps his arm around me, pulling me to his side. "I'll be close, don't worry. I love you." He presses a sweet kiss to my temple. Scout gazes at me, waiting for me to give her any sign I want her to stay.
"I'll be Alright, thank you for coming to me." She squeezes me with the greatest of care, following Landon out the door.
Doctor Burgess pulls up a chair, sitting down in front of me. "This will not be easy, but you've come through the hardest part. I want you to know, whatever’s discussed between us stays here unless I have your permission to share it. I'm talking beyond protocol; this is survivor to survivor."
"I don't have a clue what I'm doing. Something finally clicked, and it was time to leave." My shoulders fall, following the path of my heart.
"Well, let's start with getting you checked out. Besides, it's the reason you're here." She moves closer to me. "May I touch you?"
I nod, no longer holding onto my facade. "I'm an idiot and to come here looking this way. I'm mortified."
"Haven't you ever listened to the song about all of us having bruises? Some people can see, others hide there's well, and others bury them." She lifts my gown, checking my legs and thighs. "I'm assuming he kept his hands to specific locations."
I fight my tears, trying to keep my face dry. "Yeah, the back of my head and my sides and back."
"Classic asshole I see." She stands, positioning herself at my side. "Let's check your other injuries, I'm going down your back and sides. Then we'll do your head."
"Thank you." My words are more than a whisper, but she understands. Asking or warning an abused person what you're about to do is something I never considered but appreciate very much.
She opens my gown with care, giving me time to adjust. "I'm not sure how you made it here on your own, it appears you have a few cracked ribs. Maybe a bruised kidney, but we'll test to be sure."
"I'm sure you'll find old injuries too, but this is my first time coming to the hospital." I murmur as I cross my arms over my chest for protection.
She stands straight, smiling. "Can you take your hair down and lean your head over? I want to be as jealous as possible of these locks."
"He pulled my hair. Most of the time, he only punched and kicked my back. I suppose it's because I'm hardheaded." I snort and snub at the same time.
"Well, too bad he never broke his hand."
"Right? It would never have served him." I giggle with her as she runs her fingers through my mane, stopping to check any knots or bumps she finds.
She steps back with a sigh. "You can raise up." I do to find her eyes glistening. "You remind me so much of myself."
"Stayed too long, feared too much, loathe your entire existence?"
"All of that but I want you to know, there is a better life and you deserve it." She holds her arms up, I lean into them. I can only think of one person who has ever thought so much of me, and no way I want to see him now.
I release her and my lip. "So, what's the damage besides my face?"
"Lacerations to your lip, eye and scalp which should've been stitched but looks as though it's sealed now. Multiple contusions to your face, body, and head. Possible broken ribs, concussion, bruised kidney, fractures, and we can rule out any old injuries as we go."
My mouth gaps. "I did not understand there was so much wrong."
"You should never have driven here on your own, but that proves one thing for sure. He may have broken your body, but he couldn't break your spirit." Her lips quirk, making me chuckle.
"I planned this for years, I only needed a push."
She writes in my folder. "I hate to say this, but I need to admit you at least overnight. You need a lot of tests; we do not understand what we may find and having you here will make it easier if something happens that needs tended to."
"He's gonna come for me." I shudder, fearing of Weston finding me here, unprotected.
"I'll make sure someone is at your door." Her smile should be reassuring. It isn't.
I drag in a deep breath, steadying my nerves. "Thank you, I appreciate it."
"I'll put your orders in and we'll get you going with some tests and a room." She takes my hand. "I'm sure you might doubt this right now, but I have every belief in you. You're going to be Alright."
"Thank you." I return her smile. She turns and exits the room, leaving me here. Alone. I replay the last twenty-four hours over in my head and find that I'm so confused.
There's another tap on the door, Scout pops her head in. "Can I come in?"
"Yes, of course." I wipe my nose on the back of my hand, giggling. "So, lady like, Harper."
She hands me some tissues, pushing my hair over my shoulder. "You know, no one would blame you if you wanted to cry or scream even."
"Ha! I am." My breath hitches as my soul howls, I'm decimated. "I'm doing my best to get through this."
"You're doing amazing," she sits beside me. "but it has escaped none of us, you keep saying 'thank you.' You're holding on so tight that something is bound to make you snap, Harper. It will come out, it has to. You need to be ready for when it does."
"I know." Scout only wants what's best for me and I hear her, I do. But as fear grips me, I can't help to worry I'll lose what little of me I still possess. I've spent years holding on to her, shielding her from all of this, I don't trust letting her go right now.
A nurse walks in, saying words, and Scout is answering with more words. I'm busy blocking them out; I do as I'm told. I stand and move and bend, doing everything everyone is telling me to do.
Someone mentions the detective, another says something about catatonic state, and my all-time favorite... she's having a breakdown. No, I'm not. I'm not breaking down.
I. Am. Broken.
I don't want to talk. I can't stand the noise. There's too many talking at once. When will someone listen to me? I want to scream at them to get the fuck out! I want to be alone. No more examinations. Or poking and prodding.