by M. E. Carter
Some kind of sticky fluid is stuck on my fingers, and I’m revolted, I just want to throw up. But I won’t do it here. I refuse to do it here.
Instead, I use the baby wipes that are on the counter to clean away as much filth as possible until I can get home and take a nice hot shower. I use at least a dozen on my genital area alone to get the nasty, sticky fluid off my curls and my hand before quickly throwing the clean clothes on. The last thing I want is to wear part of the hospital home with me as a reminder of this night, but it’s not like I have any choice.
Again.
My body, my choice seems to be a giant lie all the way around tonight.
And then I move away from the mirror. I can’t look at myself anymore. I disgust myself. I revolt myself. I need that pixie cut so I don’t recognize myself.
Shuffling back into the bedroom, I see Dr. Thompson is gone. The only ones here are Stacy and Pippa. They both smile at me when I come out of the bathroom, like there’s anything to smile about.
“You look better,” Pippa remarks. “Feeling a little better now?”
“Well, I’m not naked, and no one is taking pictures of my vagina,” I snap back.
Their faces both fall, and I sigh.
“I’m sorry.” I know my anger is misplaced as much as they do. “This is not your fault.”
“Never be sorry for the way you feel,” Pippa demands. “Therapy 101. You’ve been through an extremely traumatic event. You have a right to lash out at us. And it’s okay that you never want to see us again.”
That makes me almost laugh out loud, like she can read my thoughts. But I guess she’s heard it all before.
“Um, I was thinking about something. The guy who found me.” Pippa nods. “Who is he?”
“Are you sure you want to know all this?”
I think for a second and then nod. I know I’m not going to like everything I hear, but I want to face this head-on. I don’t hide from my problems. I prefer to power through them.
“Okay.” She moves closer to the bed as I get settled on the fresh sheets they must have put on while I was changing. “He’s a college student at the university like you. He works at the bar and was taking the trash out when he found you. He tackled the guy to the ground, and they threw a few punches, which actually works to our advantage because the police were able to collect some blood evidence from him. That gives us an eye witness to the crime, not just DNA evidence.”
My eyes widen. “He fought him?”
“He did.” Pippa nods.
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah. He probably has a little bit of survivor’s guilt. But that’s to be expected. I’m referring him to a counselor at the university, just like I’m referring you.”
I furrow my brow at the pointed look she’s giving me. I didn’t realize she was going to be sending me to therapy. I suppose it’s a normal part of her job, but I don’t know that I want to go.
Suddenly, I feel like a truck has run over me. Dr. Thompson wasn’t kidding when he said the drugs were going to make me tired for a while.
“Will I get to meet him?” I ask with a yawn. “I’d really like to thank him.”
Pippa gets a strange look on her face, as Stacy looks at her, eyebrows raised.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this, but since you said it,” she sighs, “he’s in the waiting room.”
I sit straight up, the groggy feeling completely forgotten. “What do you mean he’s in the waiting room? Has he been here all night?”
“He has.” Pippa nods. “We’ve tried to get him to leave several times to rest, but he keeps saying until he knows someone is here to take care of you, he’s not going anywhere.”
I think about that for a minute and realize he’s right. No one has come looking for me yet. Not Lauren. Not Kiersten. Not my parents. No one realizes I’m gone.
And yet, this boy stayed. This boy I never met. This boy who may have saved my life. He stayed.
A strange feeling of warmth runs through me.
“If it’s okay with the police,” I say, my mind made up, “I’d really like to meet him.”
Pippa pauses but then nods. “I can go get him.”
“Yeah,” I say again, “I’d really like to meet him.”
Just knowing he’s coming makes my whole body relax, like having him close by makes me safe.
Chapter Nine
Jaxon
Despite this being a waiting room, these chairs are not meant for waiting. They’re hard plastic and uncomfortable. My butt is aching from sitting here for hours.
My dad gave up a long time ago and began pacing. I’m not sure if it was nerves, adrenaline, or because that old back injury was hurting. Either way he’s leaning up against the wall on the other side of the room while we wait.
We’ve been here for hours, but I’ll wait as long as I have to. The thoughts are still swirling in my brain. The things I saw tonight. The things I did. The things I should have done. I bang my fist lightly against my forehead trying to get the memories to stop, but they just keep coming.
“Mr. Hart?”
I vaguely register someone talking to my dad, too wrapped up in my own thoughts again. Even a young, less plastic version of John Travolta on the screen isn’t helping anymore.
“Jax.” My dad’s voice breaks me of the revelry in my head. “She’s talking to you.”
I look over and see a dark-haired woman holding a clipboard next to me.
I stand up to greet her. “Sorry. I’m used to people calling my dad Mr. Hart, not me.”
She smiles kindly like my lack of response was to be expected. I notice that she’s wearing jeans but has some sort of fancy bun in her hair. The combination seems contradictory, which is a really odd thought for me to have right now. But it also keeps my mind on something other than the girl. And I guess with the lack of sleep there’s no telling where my thoughts are going to go. I must be getting delirious.
“My name is Pippa. I’m a social worker here at the hospital. Can you follow me?”
My dad comes over, and we follow Pippa into a small room labeled “family waiting.” The lighting is terrible and the carpet is worn, but it’s private. I assume that means this is a conversation she doesn’t want overheard.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight, Jaxon,” she begins as soon as she shuts the door behind us.
I look at my dad and then back at Pippa. “I didn’t really do much. In fact, I’m kind of pissed I didn’t do more.”
“It’s normal to feel that way.” She sports an empathetic smile. “But trust me when I say this…things could have been much worse. You quite literally may have saved her life.”
I’m not sure I want to know this, but being the glutton for punishment that I am, I engage. “I did?”
She takes a deep breathe. “This isn’t the first case like this that I’ve worked on. Annika is extremely lucky.”
“Annika?”
“Oh yes, sorry. Her name is Annika. She’s a student at the university just like you.”
Oh god, I think. She’s my age. I don’t know why that makes it feel worse to me. I don’t know why if she was older I would feel better about this. But maybe I wouldn’t, and her age just hits too close to home. She could be someone in one of my classes. She could be someone I’ve gone to parties with. She could be any woman I know.
“Physically she’s okay?”
Pippa shifts the clipboard in her grasp. “Well, she has a few minor injuries. She had to have some stitches in her arm, and she has some scrapes. But for the most part, physically, she’s doing just fine. That’s not to negate the emotional and mental issues. Those are going to take much longer to deal with. But without having to push through serious physical issues, it’s going to make the process a lot easier.”
“How so?” my dad asks. “I wouldn’t think the two really had much to do with each other.”
“Put yourself in the victim’s shoes,” Pippa says. “Right now, she’s l
ikely feeling a lot of shame. A lot of humiliation. A lot of disgust. A lot of regret. But she’ll walk out of here, and her clothes will cover any remnants of what’s happened to her. She’ll be able to continue on without every nosy person on campus asking her what happened because she has a busted lip or black eye. Victims who are beaten up have a rough go of it, because many times they either feel like they need to stay contained to their homes until makeup covers the bruising. Or they have to face all the stares and answer all the questions. And every time someone asks a question, they have to relive their nightmare all over again.”
“Oh god.” My dad runs his hand through his graying hair. “I never thought about that.”
Pippa shrugs. “Most people don’t. That’s why I make it a habit never to ask anyone with a bruise on their face why they have it unless they volunteer the information first.”
“I can understand that,” my dad says, squeezing my shoulder.
“Anyway, I wanted to let you know, Jaxon, with your permission of course, I’m making a call to the counseling center on campus. I’d like to make a referral for you.”
I furrow my brows. “Wait, what? Me? Why?”
“Jaxon, you’ve still gone through a horrible event just like Annika has. You may not have been the one assaulted, but you’ve been traumatized too.”
My dad nods like everything she says is making sense.
“Jaxon,” she says gently, “you’ve been sitting in the hospital for hours waiting for someone you don’t even know, or to get information you are likely to never have gotten because of privacy laws. That’s not normal behavior. It sounds a lot like survivor’s guilt.”
I wince. “No one came looking for her.” I feel myself getting angry again as I try to explain myself, but I can’t even wrap my own brain around why I need to be here so badly.
“I know. And I’m not judging you for it,” she reassures. “I’m saying there is a lot for you to process, and it already seems like you’re having a hard time. It wouldn’t hurt to get some counseling to push through what you’re feeling and what you’ve seen.”
My dad squeezes my shoulder again, and I shrug him off, not wanting to hear that he agrees. “She’s right, Jaxon. I really think you need to do this. Even if you don’t do it for yourself, your mom and I worry about you.”
I bite my lip and look at the floor. I don’t like the idea of going to counseling. Nothing happened to me. But, dammit, I can also see their point.
“Can I think about it?” I ask.
“Of course,” Pippa says. “I’ll give them your name and number. You don’t have to answer their call, but at least you’ll know it’s coming while you think about it.”
“Okay.”
“One more thing.”
I look up at her. She has a strange look on her face that I don’t understand, but it makes me question what’s about to happen.
“Annika wants to meet you.”
My eyebrows raise just slightly, masking how much surprise I actually feel. “She does?”
“She does. But only if it’s okay with you.”
“No. I mean yeah. I mean…” I close my eyes and let my overly tired brain pull itself back together. “I’d love to meet her. I think I’d feel a lot better if I could see that she’s okay and not remember her the way I do…”
Every time my eyes close. But I don’t tell them that part. They’re already pushing this counseling thing without knowing the images that keep flashing through my mind.
When they both nod, though, I’m pretty sure they already know.
“Okay,” Pippa says. “Well then, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you back there. Mr. Hart, you’ll need to wait out here for Jaxon. We’re only allowing him to come back right now, and it’s kind of an unusual situation to even allow that.”
“Of course,” he agrees.
“Actually, Dad, why don’t you go find a hotel. Once I’m done here I’m going to head back to the dorm. There’s no reason for you to stay when you have such a long drive ahead of you.”
He narrows his eyes for a second, and I can tell he’s thinking. “I do need to head home.”
“It’s 4:30 in the morning,” I remind him.
“I know. But I’m wide awake. I might as well take advantage of it. If I make decent time, I can be home before the kids get out of school. Maybe even swing by the office.”
“Or, you could go home early and surprise Mom by helping her clean the house.”
His lips quirk up in a smile. “Or I could go home early and take a nap. But seriously, Jax, are you going to be okay here by yourself?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’ll be fine.” I wave him off, finding myself getting irritated again at his concern. Man, my emotions are going back and forth tonight. Maybe I’m just tired. “I’ll let you know if something happens.”
I turn to give him a hug, and as I’m holding him I say, “Thanks for coming.”
“You’re my son,” he responds quietly in my ear. “Of course, I came when you needed me.”
That right there is what I’ve been missing…knowing he loves me the same as he does Matty and Lucy. I don’t know where that connection went, or if it’s part of growing up, but I miss knowing without a doubt that I can lean on my dad for anything. That I’m everything he hoped I would be. I don’t know how to get it back or if I’m even supposed to.
Pippa stands a respectful distance away as we say our goodbyes, my dad patting my cheek before walking his pajama-clad self through the sliding glass doors. Then I turn the opposite direction and follow her through a set of steel double doors down a long hallway.
“Just remember,” she reminds me as we walk, “Annika may be a little skittish around you still. She’s had a traumatic event, so I wouldn’t try to touch her or hug her. You’re really going to need to follow her lead. And don’t be offended, but I will probably be in the room with you during your visit.”
“Understood,” I say, because I do understand. I understand why she wouldn’t want to be in the same room with a strange man right now, and I have no problem being respectful of that.
Pippa stops in front of a gray door with a small window cut out. Looking through, we can’t see into the room because of a curtain in the way. She knocks, opens the door, and sticks her head inside.
“Annika, Jaxon is with me. May we come in?”
I don’t hear the response, but by the way she pushes the door open and enters, I assume the answer was yes. As we round the curtain, I see the girl. Only this time she’s awake and sitting in a chair. She doesn’t look half-dead, and I immediately breathe a sigh of relief.
“Annika, this is Jaxon,” Pippa introduces us. “He’s the man from the bar who found you. Jaxon, this is Annika.”
If I had just walked into the room and didn’t know the situation, I might have assumed Annika was one of the staff members here, being that she’s wearing scrubs and doesn’t appear fearful at all. The lack of shoes, however, is the dead giveaway.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jaxon. Do you want to sit down?”
I’m surprised by the invitation to get close, so I slowly walk toward the chair she’s gestured to, careful not to touch her. I wait for her to say something, but I don’t expect what she says next.
“Pippa, it’s okay. You don’t have to stick around.”
Pippa startles, looks at me, and then looks back at Annika. “Are you…are you sure? You don’t want me to stay in the room?”
Annika lets out a humorless laugh. “This is the man who saved my life. He’s probably the safest person for me to be with right now.”
Wow. What a statement of trust on her part. I was hoping to see her looking better. I wasn’t expecting to see the feisty side of her.
Pippa looks stunned for a minute but takes that as her cue. “Okay. I’ll be outside while you two talk. Just let me know if you need anything.” Then she turns to leave.
Once the door closes behind her, Annika turns and looks at me. “I’m tired of them babying m
e. It’s really obnoxious.”
Her words make me smile. She has no idea how much I can relate. I also can’t help but admire her resilience. But just as quickly, her face turns stoic again.
“Jaxon, I don’t know how to thank you.”
I don’t say anything for a moment as I try to figure out how to respond.
“I don’t think there’s really a reason to thank me,” I finally get out. “I was doing what anybody would have done. But I have to say, you look much better than the last time I saw you.”
She grimaces. “Yeah. I’m sure. I just got a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and it wasn’t pretty.”
“No, it’s not that. You’re beautiful.” My eyes widen as I realize what I’ve said. It’s not untrue. The timing is just terrible. “Oh god. I don’t mean…I don’t mean it like that. I just mean you just look…alive.”
Tears well up in her eyes. “Like I said, I have you to thank for that.”
We sit in silence for a few more minutes. It’s not weird quiet though. It feels almost comfortable. I can tell she’s still a little groggy, and I’m tired from lack of sleep. Still, I feel like we need to make conversation and not waste the time we have before Pippa and her overbearing ways come crashing in the room.
“So, uh, Pippa says you go to the university with me?”
Annika seems to snap back awake, clearing her throat before answering. “Yeah. I’m a sophomore. You?”
“Junior.”
I open my mouth to ask another question when we hear the door open. We both glance up and see a nurse walking in the door. At least I assume she’s a nurse. She’s wearing the same outfit as Annika except she’s wearing shoes and carrying paperwork.
“Guess who’s almost ready for discharge?” the nurse sing-songs, and Annika flashes a quick, polite grin in her direction. “I know you don’t have your purse on you, but do you happen to know what medical insurance you have? It shouldn’t be hard to file with them.”
Annika’s eyes widen, and she almost looks fearful. “No!” she yells, realizing quickly how loud she was. Lowering her voice, she continues. “No insurance.”
