Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller

by Demelza Carlton

  I held my breath as he returned to my side. I exhaled slowly, hoping he didn't notice.

  "Can you tell me about them? Maybe that’ll help them go away faster."

  I stared at him. He meant it. He seriously wanted to hear about the horrible things I'd been through. Didn't he realise how graphic my memories were? They'd give him nightmares.

  "Nathan, I don’t even want to think about them. Talking about my nightmares will only bring them back," I told him gently. This is a horror movie you don't want to see.

  "No it won’t." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself he wanted to hear it. "That’s what all the psychologists and counsellors say. You wait. They’ll tell you it’s good to get it out and your heart will feel lighter."

  Lightening my heart to burden yours? Not likely.

  "Nathan," I began, wanting to ask about his nightmares. Did he dream of me or his sister? Both of us?

  He looked like he was ready to cry and I could feel tears on my own cheeks. I sucked in a breath as I held out my arms, offering him a hug. The least comfort I could give him.

  "I can’t, Nathan, not yet. I can’t tell you all the horrors that happened – you already have enough to deal with…" His arms tightened around me, as if he were desperately seeking some sort of solace. I wish I had some to offer him, but I was the wrong person for that. I could only offer darkness.

  Part 24

  "I’m Detective McGuinness. We need a statement from you, Miss Lockyer." The detective was an older man who looked sympathetic and understanding. He hadn’t trusted this to any underling – he wanted to be the one who asked me questions. "I understand this will be upsetting for you, but we need your assistance to catch the people who did this to you."

  I nodded, thinking, Don’t you dare leave. Somehow during the night I'd decided I needed Nathan. I reached for Nathan’s hand, but I couldn’t feel a damn thing through the bandages today. I looked down, carefully placing my fingers between Nathan’s as I held his hand. I could feel a faint pressure as his fingers curled around mine.

  I looked up and found Detective McGuinness’ eyes on our linked hands. He cleared his throat and looked at Nathan. "Mr Miller, I’ll have to ask you to leave or at least step outside."

  NO!

  Nathan stood up, but I wasn’t letting go of his hand. I could feel the pain in my fingers as he tugged on them, but I gritted my teeth and looked away, determined not to let go.

  What do I do? Let him go? Tell this detective everything?

  No, no, NO!

  "I’m sorry? You won’t give a statement yet?" Detective McGuinness said suddenly.

  Oh shit. I must have said it aloud and not realised.

  I hesitated a second before I looked at the detective. "I’ll make a statement now, but I want Nathan to stay."

  Detective McGuinness looked at me with pity in his eyes, before he turned his gaze to Nathan and his expression hardened. "Mr Miller is a suspect in this matter and we would prefer that your statement is made privately, so you feel safe and don’t hold back information. Your statement will remain confidential."

  You want to take Nathan away from me before I can defend myself. I don’t trust you. I’ll hold back anything I damn well like from you. You seriously think I’m stupid enough to let a man who hurt me get anywhere near me? I’m not telling you a damn thing. I realised I wasn’t ready to give up Nathan.

  I glared at the detective and weighed my words carefully. "Officer, I’ll never feel safe until I know every one of those bastards can’t touch me again. And I’ll never feel safe alone with a police officer after one of them shot at me."

  He winced at this and glanced down at my legs, before meeting my eyes again. His gaze was steady.

  "Nathan..." I started to say.

  The detective jerked his head, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on Nathan.

  I bet he thinks Nathan’s threatened me with something and he won’t back down until he gets Nathan out of the room. He’ll push us until Nathan leaves and he has me alone...what if he tries to hurt me and Nathan doesn’t come back? Haven’t I been through enough already?

  As I felt the tears build, hopelessness set in. My voice squeaked a little as the tears started to flow. "Nathan shouldn’t be a suspect in this. He never...He didn’t...He’s about the only person who hasn’t hurt me."

  I reached for a tissue automatically with my free hand.

  Nathan, please help me out here, I thought desperately, releasing his hand to reach for a tissue with the other bandaged hand, too.

  Relieved, I watched Nathan pull out some tissues for me.

  Now show him you’re my caregiver when I’m helpless, not the violent threatening bastard he thinks you are, I begged Nathan with my eyes. Please...

  For the second time in as many days, Nathan helped me to wipe the tears off my face and blow my nose. His expression held only concern.

  I glanced at the detective. His eyes were on Nathan and he looked thoughtful.

  I made my voice quiet and sad. "I can’t use my hands and I can barely stand, let alone walk. I feel so helpless one of these pillows would probably be an effective weapon against me." As the detective looked back at me I tried to smile, but I just didn’t feel it. "I know I need to make a statement so you can catch the people who did this to me, no matter how upset talking about it will make me feel. I’ll do it, however many tears it takes, but please don’t make me do this alone."

  Alone. I don’t want to be alone. As the tears came to my eyes again, I looked from the detective to Nathan, begging both of them for help.

  To my surprise, the first voice I heard was Nathan’s. "If you want me to stay, I’ll be here for you." He sat down carefully on the bed beside me, taking my hand.

  Detective McGuinness just looked at us, not saying anything.

  I tried again. "I don't know how long it will take before I'm strong enough to tell this story without someone to support me. I don't even know if I can. I want you to catch them and I want to help you do it. I want to know they can't touch me and that I'll be safe as soon as possible. Please – let me use the little courage I have left before it's gone to tell this story now. I don't know when I'll be brave enough to attempt it again." Slowly, slowly. I forced myself to look down at my lap, hugging my arms to my chest.

  An arm snaked around my shoulder and I let out a little gasp of surprise, before I relaxed at the sound of Nathan’s voice in my ear. "I promised I won't let them hurt you again. They won't touch you – you'll be safe."

  Three times. That’s three times today Nathan’s come to my rescue, two more than I’d counted on. If he cares about my wellbeing so much, I don’t want to give him up yet.

  I heard Detective McGuinness clear his throat and I held my breath. "I think that if you’d like to make your statement with him present, under the circumstances, you can do so. Provided, of course, that Mr Miller doesn’t interrupt or interfere in any way."

  I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." Then I proceeded to tell him…nothing.

  Part 25

  Dark – Mike – Chris – Kiss – Sorry – Bastard

  Mike's laughter died away as Chris lay like a dead weight on top of me. Maybe he's dead, I thought, hoping.

  I squirmed, trying to push him off. "Get off me."

  "Shh." He held my wrists with one hand and pressed the other over my mouth.

  No such luck.

  He didn't do anything else, though, for a long moment. My tears trickled into my hair. He hadn't hurt me yet and I was crying already. I sniffled, wishing I could wipe the tears away.

  He turned his face toward me at the sound. He shifted again, up and off me, backing away until he hit the door. Closed, of course. He knocked over the torch as he slid down the door to slump to the floor. He lifted his head to look at me, clapping both hands to his mouth as if he were going to be sick. I heard him say, "Oh God, I’m so sorry," in a desperate rush.

  I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest. My tears still flowed f
reely. I wiped my nose on my sleeve. "Why?" I whispered. I couldn't stop shaking.

  "They'll hurt my family if I don’t do what I'm told," he said in a dead voice.

  "If you don't hurt me?" I asked, a little louder.

  "Yes. And I can't do it." He buried his face in his hands again.

  "I'll say you're a brutal, callous, raping bastard if anyone asks me," I offered. I meant it, too.

  Shakily, he replied, "Thanks."

  Part 26

  “I’ll go get the laptop now – I’ll be an hour, tops. Will you be okay for that long without me?” Nathan asked, looking worried.

  I shrugged and summoned a small smile, despite secretly wondering if he thought my sheets would turn sentient and strangle me in his absence. “I’ll be fine.”

  Carol came in. “Time for physio!” she sang out. “Your doctor pulled some strings and persuaded one of our best physiotherapists to take you on, though she barely had space for any more new patients.”

  Nathan stopped dead. “The laptop can wait.”

  I ignored him. “Which one?” I asked Carol.

  Her smile widened. “Althea. I heard she asked for a very personal favour from the doctor as payment, though. And he turned up this morning looking like he hadn’t slept, so we’re all wondering just how personal it got last night...” Her laughter was wicked.

  I didn’t believe it. “But he’s married...” I objected.

  She shrugged. “You ask her. Maybe she’ll tell you.”

  “Nathan,” I said suddenly. “You go get that laptop. It’ll be okay.”

  He shook his head. “What if she hurts you?”

  I tried to smile, but I think all I managed was a sick grimace. “She’s a physio. She’s supposed to hurt me a little in order to help me get better. It’s probably best that you’re not here for that. After the session, all I’ll want to do is rest, which I can do if I’m telling you what happened so you can write it down.”

  He bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

  I forced myself to nod.

  “Then I’ll be as quick as I can,” he replied, hurrying out of the room.

  I felt a twinge of fear, but I brushed it away. Nathan wouldn’t have left me unguarded.

  “Don’t you get sick of having him here constantly?” Carol asked.

  I shook my head. “I like him. When he’s here, I feel safe. That’s a lot for me.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish you didn’t need it, but it’s good he’s so devoted to you.”

  You have no idea.

  “You must be Caitlin.”

  I didn’t recognise the musical voice that spoke the words, nor the tall, African woman who entered the room.

  I nodded.

  Carol smiled. “I’ll leave you two for your session.” She left quickly.

  “You must be Althea,” I replied.

  She laughed. “I am indeed. My husband said you needed the very best of care, but because of the trauma you’ve been through, you wouldn’t trust a physio you hadn’t met. So he asked me to take care of you and I promised I would.”

  “Your husband?” I asked, mystified.

  “Your doctor,” she replied with a smile. “We haven’t told many people at work. He wants to keep his personal life separate. Something about how he was engaged to marry another girl and she left him. He said everyone looked at him with such pity he couldn’t stand it and he didn’t want to jinx us. So, it’s a secret few people know. You were there the day he proposed, so I thought you knew.”

  I drew a blank and it embarrassed me. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember ever meeting you before.”

  Her laughter was deep and infectious. I wanted to hear it again. “We were trapped in a lift together once. You fainted in the heat. I’m not surprised you don’t remember it. He didn’t propose until after he made sure you were okay. His patients always come first, even before me.” She nodded fiercely, evidently proud of her husband. “Now. Tell me about your injuries, so I can help you like I promised.”

  My hands she dismissed until later, when I no longer needed the bandages. My legs were another matter – and the subject of much poking, prodding and manipulation, before she started giving me exercises to help strengthen my muscles.

  “How often should I do them?” I asked eagerly.

  “At least once a day, if you can,” she replied.

  I met her eyes. “You know the men who did this are still hunting me, right? I need to recover as fast as I can – I need to be able to defend myself. I have all the time in the world while I’m stuck in bed. How often can I do them, without doing myself further damage?”

  She must have seen my determination. “You can do a set or two every hour, but make sure you take breaks in between and stop if it hurts. You don’t need to push yourself that hard.”

  “I do. It’ll hurt far more if they get their hands on me again. I won’t let that happen.”

  She smiled sadly. “Good luck with that, honey. You take care and I’ll see you for another session in a few days.”

  As soon as she’d left, I started my exercises again. I couldn’t get my strength back fast enough.

  Part 27

  Nathan placed a pastel pink laptop by my lunch tray.

  I looked at him, wondering how he’d come to choose a pink computer. I hadn’t thought he was gay, but who knew? Maybe the sleazy manner was an act to hide where his tastes really lay.

  He saw me looking from the laptop to him and he started to explain quickly.

  "It’s my sister’s old laptop. She doesn’t need it any more. You can borrow this as long as you need to, so you can record what you remember."

  I nodded, trying to steel myself.

  I could have said I lost my nerve, as he took an inordinately long time setting up the laptop, plugging it in, turning it on and waiting for it to boot up. I could have said the sheer trauma and pain had made my memories hazy and I experienced some sort of amnesia. But I didn’t.

  I can’t repeat what I said, because what started as an effort to remember became an exercise in forgetting. I’d start telling Nathan about one memory, then realise that the memory was too painful to focus on or, with increasing frequency, too graphic for me to burden Nathan with. I used vague words and half-finished sentences to describe the very clear nightmares in my head.

  Every time I returned to that Word document to add to the record of my memories, I shuddered at the memory of that first session, when I had to describe the PG version of the horrors aloud to Nathan. He typed it all in, his expression holding pity, sadness, desperation and furious resolve, as my memories subjected me to the R-rated version that could never be censored in my head.

  What would Nathan do if I told him the uncensored version in all its detail? I wondered every time I remembered his reaction to the little I told him that day.

  I lost track of time, but I kept going until the horrible memories wouldn’t go away, with my eyes open or closed. I tried to shut them out, but even that failed.

  Nathan wrapped his arms around me in an attempt at comfort. Instead it felt like a reminder of help, which when it came was too little, too late. His pity only made it worse.

  I pushed away from him and lay down on the crisp white sheets, not looking at him because I knew if I apologised for my rudeness I’d cry again.

  When Nathan suggested he leave for a bit, I panicked. The thought of being alone with my memories was terrifying. Especially if his alone time brought him to the realisation that he couldn't handle this any more. I need him to come back.

  He must have seen it mirrored in my eyes, our mutual desire to escape from my memories. He was already up and poised for flight. After a slight hesitation, he invited me to the coffee shop downstairs for cake.

  I felt wrung out like a dishcloth that had been used on one too many dirty pots. Yet even the thought of caffeine and sugar had me sitting up again, seriously considering his half-hearted offer.

  I opened my mouth to accept, but he pu
lled his shirt over his head. Oh.

  Beneath his loose-fitting shirt, Nathan had been hiding more than just his injuries. I wondered how many hours he spent in the gym to maintain those muscles. Looking at his biceps, I could see how he managed to lift me so effortlessly. The dressing was gone from his shoulder, but an angry patch of red remained. What I'd thought to be a mortal injury had only been a bad graze. There'd only been a lot of blood because of the amount of skin scraped off by the bullet as it sped past him. Damage he sustained while trying to help me, I reminded myself. It could have killed him and then I'd have been here, alone and helpless and…

  I felt a sob rise in my throat and choked it down.

  Nathan must have heard me, for he turned toward me, looking concerned as he touched my arm lightly. He extended his other hand toward me, too, the shirt still hanging from his fingers.

  Chris, offering me his sweater to cover my nakedness. Kindness in the dark…

  The memory came without warning and I curled up in horror, trying to fight the dark dream in my head. The day they took my clothes.

  I mumbled some reply to Nathan’s worried question about my wellbeing, struggling to stay out of the memory. I bit back a scream.

  I was so preoccupied I never heard him leave the room. Before I realised it, I was alone with Judith holding the sort of hospital uniform the surgeons wore, a grumpy look on her face. It dawned on me slowly that I wasn’t going to wear my backless nightgown in public, something I hadn’t thought about. I was relieved, before I’d had a chance to worry.

  Judith’s grumpy because she doesn’t like Nathan, I realised as she started speaking, her hissed whisper trying hard not to be heard. "He never leaves. The whole time you were unconscious, he barely left the room. He just kept talking to you. It didn’t stop him trying to chat up the nurses, though, sleazy bastard. He sat in the chair by your bed and wouldn’t leave, even when I was changing your dressings." She slid my hospital gown down and pulled the surgeon’s top over my head.

  My voice was muffled by the dark blue cotton. "Really? Why? Did he say?" What did he do to make you dislike him so much?