Unbearable (The Port Fare Series)

by Sherry Gammon

  “You were attacked, Mrs. Johnson. Do you remember anything that happened?” a woman’s voice asked.

  “Attacked?” I opened my eyes, guarding them from the light this time with my shaky hand.

  I glanced around as things slowly came into focus. The room was stark white, and a small steel cabinet sat in the corner. Gauze packets and several bottles lined the top. A hospital. The emergency room? A nasal cannula, strapped to my face, fed me oxygen. Another tube, an IV, was taped to my right arm. I looked down between my legs and saw a woman dressed in a blue paper gown, sitting there with her head down. Another woman, another doctor or maybe a nurse, stood next to her. I tried to remember what happened, but my thoughts were patchy at best.

  Garen’s face appeared between the doctors and me as he leaned over my chest. “Don’t you remember, Terese? I came home from my business trip and found you on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood. You said a man broke in, demanding money and drugs before he attacked you.” Garen’s earnest face seemed so real, as if what he said was the God’s honest truth. Only I knew better. I didn’t remember everything that happened, but the memory of being cuffed to the bed and icy cold showers were vivid.

  “I don’t remember,” I lied, though I had no idea why. Now would be the perfect time to expose Garen. I was in a hospital, for crying out loud. There’d never be a safer place. But I couldn’t. My fear of him choked back the words. I’d have to wait until he wasn’t around. Then I’d expose him for the monster he was.

  “It’ll be okay, Terese. Don’t you worry. We’ll catch the man who did this, I promise.” He planted a dry kiss on my forehead. Both fear and anger tightened my stomach. I nodded dutifully. Just you wait, you foul pig. Just you wait.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson.” The doctor between my legs stood. “I can’t get the bleeding to stop. We’re going to have to do surgery. Immediately. You’re in serious danger of bleeding out.” She tugged the blood covered paper gown off and tossed it into the garbage while giving orders to the other doctor and a nurse who’d entered the room. As she added something to my IV my brain started to go hazy again.

  “Is the baby . . .” Garen asked. He had the tenacity to sound upset.

  “I’m sorry. It’s too late.” Next I heard the doctor say something about a possible hysterectomy, but before I could scream out in protest, Garen shot to his feet and grabbed my hand.

  “My wife and I desperately want children. Please do whatever it takes to keep from having to doing a hysterectomy, I beg you.” Even as my vision blurred I could see tears on Garen’s ugly face. Why did I ever think he was good looking? “Please, only do the hysterectomy if you have to, to save her life. She means more to me than anything.”

  I couldn’t take his false pleas any longer. I tugged my hand free as I too protested. “Please, not a hysterectomy, doctor. I want to have children.” The drugs slurred my speech.

  My frantic protests and Garen’s demands were the last things I heard before surrendering to the abyss.

  When I woke again, my nightmare had gotten worse: I’d never have a child. They’d done the hysterectomy. The reality threw me into a tailspin of sorrow and anger. All because of Garen. I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t stop crying. Every time Garen put his arm around me to comfort me, I wanted to throw up. To scream. To punch and kick him. I settled for medication, getting the pain meds as often as I could. They helped me not to feel.

  Over the next two days, the memories of what happened slowly returned. Every ugly word, every painful blow. I remembered the despicable things he did to me. I remembered having my head shoved into the toilet, over and over, as I fought for my life.

  “You didn’t eat much of your dinner.” Garen removed the tray from the bedside table and handed it to a nurse outside my door. “You had major surgery two days ago, Terese. You need to rebuild your strength.”

  I wanted to say, ‘For what? So I can be healthy enough to endure another one of your vicious attacks?’ I settled for, “Not a big Jell-O and watery soup fan, I guess.”

  “Compared to your cooking, this is a virtual feast.” He chuckled and rubbed my head playfully, as if he were joking. Right.

  “So, how are the memories coming? What do you remember so far?” He sat in the chair next to my bed, doing his best to look relaxed, with his hands tucked behind his head, and his feet stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His ticking jaw and tight eyes betrayed him.

  “Still nothing,” I lied, as if I had any intention of telling him. “Like I told you when you asked me after the surgery, the last thing I recall was you removing the handcuffs for me to shower. That was Thursday, right?” Thursday was the first day of my imprisonment. I pretended to have no memory of anything after that.

  “Yes, Thursday. That’s it, then.” He leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees. “You have no memories of how we talked about taking a cruise this summer, and inviting your parents to come along?”

  I bit my tongue to keep from screaming out at his lie. “I’m sorry. I guess cooking isn’t the only thing I’m terrible at.”

  “Don’t stress about it, Terese.” He reached over and squeezed my knee through the blanket. “The doctor said it’s common to lose memories after a head injury. He also said you may never get them back.”

  Two could play his little game. “I guess that’s a good thing considering how brutal my injuries were. It takes a sick, twisted mind to hurt another human being like that, don’t you think?”

  “Or maybe someone highly stressed.” He stood and paced to the window. “It’s over now, and you’re safe. Let’s just move on from here and not dwell on it.” He turned back to me. “Don’t wear yourself out trying to remember, Terese.”

  I pressed my call button and asked for some pain meds. I needed to escape the monster, if only for a couple hours.

  The police showed up later that evening, but I’d just been medicated again and could hardly keep my eyes open. They handed Garen a business card with instructions to call after I was released from the hospital to file a report to try to find who attacked me. In my drug induced haze, I pointed at Garen. He scooped up my hand and kissed it.

  “I love you, Angel.” He didn’t let go until the police left.

  Garen played the dutiful husband well. Flowers adorned much of the free space in my private hospital room. He insisted I have my own room “for solitude as she grieves over the loss of our baby.”

  Only I knew the real reason. He was scared spitless that I’d remember and tell the police. He should be, because the second he left me alone that was exactly what I intended to do.

  Done. Finished. The girl who never gave up, who never quit, was defeated. My marriage, if you could call it that, had come to a tragic end. I refused to live the nightmare any longer.

  Garen stayed by my side, night and day, for four days. The man who insisted on showering daily, sometimes twice, hadn’t showered since I got here. He also hadn’t shaved. I laughed to myself every time he scrubbed at the paltry growth on his jaw, knowing it drove him crazy.

  The hoodwinked hospital staff, which now believed he could walk on water, took pity on him and brought him fresh scrubs to wear each morning, along with a disposable hygiene kit, which consisted of a small can of deodorant, a toothbrush, and a mini tube of toothpaste. It also included a razor, but Garen, used to an electric razor, didn’t dare try it, afraid of cutting up his pretty face.

  Every day I had to listen to the staff gushing about Garen. Today a perky student nurse with deep brown eyes offered her opinion about my better half. “You’re so lucky to have a wonderful husband like him, Mrs. Johnson.” She slipped Garen a flirty grin. “I don’t suppose you have a brother?”

  Playing his part masterfully, Garen all but ignored her and stroked my hair. “I’m the lucky one. No man could ask for a more forgiving and loving wife.”

  I twisted gingerly onto my side. “I need some pain medication, please.”

  As the nurse left, Garen
moved in closer. “I meant every word, Terese. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. I’ll do whatever it takes to win your trust back for handcuffing you that day.” He kissed my cheek. I clenched my hands to keep from scratching his eyes out. He still had no clue I remembered everything.

  “I’ve decided that as soon as you’re on your feet again, Terese, I’m going to see an anger management specialist. Not some random counselor, but a specialist.”

  Yada yada yada. Heard that a million times over before.

  “I need to learn how to deal with the things you do that anger me. It’ll never happen again. I promise.” He gave my lips a quick peck as the nurse came back in with my pain medicine. Prefect timing, no doubt planned.

  “Oh, how sweet. Like I said, you’re so lucky,” the nurse prattled again as she injected the meds into my IV. I instantly faded away. Medication. My only escape from my “wonderful” husband.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Johnson, I’m covering for Dr. Miron today. My name is Dr. Moore.” Dr. Moore, a tall, lanky middle-aged man extended his hand with a broad smile. Garen jumped to his feet and shook the doctor’s hand before I could. Always schmoozing. I swear Garen was born to be a politician.

  “Your lab work from this morning came back. Everything looks good. I’d like to check the incision. If it looks as good as I hope, we can send you home tomorrow.” He grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the box on a shelf near the door.

  I went into panic mode as he busied himself removing the dressing. Tomorrow? No! I couldn’t leave with Garen. He’d kill me next time I did something wrong . . . like breathe.

  “This is healing nicely.” Dr. Moore smiled reassuringly. “Looks like we’ll be setting you free.”

  “I’m not—I’m not ready.” I forced my voice to stay calm as fear clawed inside me like a rabid dog. “I’m still in a lot of pain. Could something else be wrong?”

  The doctor pressed carefully on my stomach. I winced dramatically a few times to make it look good even though the pain was minimal. “If you’re in that much discomfort, maybe we’d better keep you for another day or two, just to make sure you’re not getting an infection. I’ll order a few tests, also.” I sighed heavily as he wrote something in my chart. Two more days. I’d have to find a way to get help.

  “Mrs. Johnson, I know this is a delicate matter, but I wanted to go over the attack with you.”

  That perked Garen’s ears up. “My wife can’t remember anything. We’ve already told the police this.” His knuckles blanched as he wrapped his hands around the bedrail.

  “I understand, but this is not about the attack, per se. Mrs. Johnson, my daughter was raped while she was away at college, by her boyfriend, no less. I don’t know if you’re aware, but most victims of sexual assault know the perpetrator. Anyway, like you, she showered and washed away all the evidence. Because it was a ‘he said, she said’ situation, the boy walked free. He had a solid alibi. His mother, of all people.” He paused as his lower lip wobbled for just a second. “If anything like this ever happens again, heaven forbid, it is best not to shower.” He squeezed my hand.

  Garen’s agitation grew with each word coming out of Dr. Moore’s mouth. I enjoyed watching the creep squirm as the doctor continued. “Please don’t misunderstand me, you did nothing wrong. I completely understand why you’d want to shower. But with DNA, we can nail scum like the man who hurt you. Personally, I’d like to see men like him fry in the electric chair.”

  “Dr. Moore,” a nurse said as she rushed into the room. “They need you in the ER, stat.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be back this afternoon and we’ll talk more,” he promised, dashing out the door.

  “Well, he was a little over the top. I’ll see about getting you a new doctor right away.”

  “No, Garen!” His eyes widened at my reaction. Calm down, Tess, or you’ll raise his suspicion. “It’s embarrassing enough having someone poking around at my half naked body. I don’t want to have another doctor looking at me. Besides, it’s only for a couple more days, so what does it matter?” I forced myself to squeeze his hand.

  “I’ll think about it.” Garen sat quietly for a moment. “This could’ve been avoided if you’d not had a hissy fit about going home tomorrow. Graft asked me to do some things and I need a secure Internet server, not this lousy public server the hospital provides.” Garen sank into the chair.

  “Graft gave you your job back?” I asked, playing dumb. I remembered all too well him telling me about getting his job back the day he tried to drown me.

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you. He rehired me a few days ago.” His body seemed to relax. His shoulders drooped a little and he had a content grin on his face, as if he’d just gotten away with something.

  “You can leave if you have work, Garen. I understand. Besides, that stubble on your face is driving you crazy.” I touched his arm. “But don’t be long. It’s been nice having you so close.” I about choked on my lie.

  “It’d be nice to have this gone.” He scratched his jaw again. “No. I’m not leaving you, Terese. Graft will have to wait.” Garen patted my hand.

  I slumped down into the bed. At this rate, I’d never be free from the monster. I needed to stop waiting for the opportune moment, and just make it happen. Maybe I could tell one of the nurses. I had to. No way could I leave with him in two days. As my fears escalated, tears fell down my cheeks. I batted them away quickly, but not before Garen saw them.

  “Terese, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He grabbed my hand as a nurse walked in.

  “Hello, Mrs. Johnson. My name is Lian Liew, and I’ll be taking care of you today.” The petite nurse dressed in blue scrubs marched over and set a package of gauze and some tape down on the bedside table before grabbing gloves from the same box the doctor had earlier. “Dr. Moore asked me to redress your incision.”

  “Thank you.” I frowned. The five-foot nothing of a nurse wouldn’t be my ticket out of here and away from my husband. I needed the big brute nurse from yesterday who took care of me. “Is Bo here today?”

  “Who’s Bo?” Garen pressed, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Wait, he’s the nurse who took care of my wife yesterday, correct?”

  “Yes,” Lian said as she applied the gauze. “He’s off until next week. He and his wife are on a cruise. Lucky them.”

  No! I crossed my ankles to keep from jumping up and running out of the hospital.

  “Are you okay?” Lian asked as she added a strip of tape to the dressing.

  “She’s having some pain,” Garen said. “Can you get her something, please?” Garen brushed my cheek.

  “I’ll check her chart when I’m finished here.” She applied another strip of tape as Garen’s cell phone rang.

  “It’s Senator Graft, Terese. I need to take this, but don’t worry. I’ll be right by the door.” Garen’s tone held more of a warning than anything else. He walked to the door, but stayed in the room, keeping me in full sight.

  “I’m supposed to remove the IV, but I can give you something for pain first if you’d like. Otherwise I’ll have to give you a shot.” As she leaned closer to add another strip of tape to the dressing, her head blocked my view of Garen.

  “Help me,” I whispered. Her eyes shot to mine. Thankfully she didn’t move. “Please, help me. My husband’s the one who did this to me, not a stranger like he keeps telling everyone. I’m afraid he’s going to kill me.” Her soft brown eyes hardened.

  “He’s the one who attacked you, who beat you up?” Her voice was as low as mine. I nodded ever so slightly.

  “Is everything okay?” Garen edged his way between the bed and the nurse.

  “No, actually. Everything is not okay.” Lian turned to face Garen. My hands fisted the sheets. Did she honestly think she was a match for Garen? “Your wife’s in a lot of pain. When I asked her to rate it on a scale of one to ten, she said twelve.” Lian stuffed her hands in the pockets of her scrub top.

  “I guess you’d better get her som
ething for the pain then,” Garen snapped, scooping my hand in his. His palms were damp. She nodded curtly and left.

  “What where you talking about?” he asked as the door closed.

  “Um, like she said. My pain level.” I shifted in the bed.

  “So why was she leaning so close? I couldn’t even hear you talking.” He let go of my hand and folded his arms, stretching to his full height. Not good.

  Think, Tess.

  “She lowered her voice because you were speaking to Graft and she didn’t want to disturb you. She’s a big supporter of his. Voted for him twice.” I chuckled, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “She’s a bit star struck. I thought she was going to ask me to get her an autograph.”

  He nodded, a wistful look in his eyes. “Someday I hope to evoke that kind of awe in people.”

  A light tap and the door opened. Lian entered carrying a syringe. “My wife tells me you’re a fan of Senator Graft.”

  My stomach tightened needlessly. Without missing a beat Lian said, “You told him.” She flashed Garen an embarrassed grin.

  “Don’t worry,” Garen insisted. “It happens all the time. I’m used to it.”

  “Still, not very professional of me.” Lian removed the cap from the syringe. “Dr. Moore ordered a second pain medication for what is known as break through pain.” She injected the medicine into the IV tubing. “With your wife being in so much pain this will be best. No sense in letting her suffer. She’s been through enough.” She patted my hand. I looked at her bewildered. How did doping me up help me escape from Garen?

  However, unlike the other times I received pain meds, this time my mind stayed clear. She’d lied to Garen. The thought gave me hope.

  “I should warn you,” she faced Garen, “she’ll be out cold for a good three or four hours. I mean completely out of it. A nuclear bomb won’t wake her. Altamelidene is our strongest narcotic.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.” Garen scratched his jaw again.