Shattered & Mended

by Julie Bailes

  He laughs as he inserts the stethoscope pieces back into his ears. “Yes, Allie, you still have hair. Most of it’s wrapped up in the bandaging. However, you will have some that’s missing where we drilled the burr holes to drain the blood from around your brain; it shouldn’t be too noticeable,” he explains. Holes drilled into my skill? Hair missing? I should be freaking the hell out, but I don’t have the energy. Besides, if there was anything to be concerned about I’m positive Blake would’ve spoken up by now. I simply nod and become satisfied I won’t leave here looking like GI Jane’s little sister. Judging by the red, black and blue that’s covering my body, I’m sure my hair should be the least of my concerns anyway.

  Dr. Dixon reaches behind me and gently lifts me from the mattress. He places the cold stethoscope to my back. “Okay, take a deep breath in and release it slowly,” he instructs. And as much as it hurts to breathe, I do as he says. I repeat the breathing technique several times before giving up. “Two more times, Allie. You can do it,” he encourages, gently patting my shoulder as he speaks.

  “No,” I breathe, “it hurts too much.” He brings the stethoscope around to my front and places it above my heart. “Okay, just try to breathe normally.”

  He continues to examine me for several minutes, flashing his light in my eyes, making me do some type of tests by touching the tip of my nose with my finger, and reaching out to touch his moving-all-over-the-damn-place fingertip. The sad part is I’m exhausted from that small amount of activity. “Great. I’m going to allow you to have some food, clear liquids only, and if you can tolerate that, we’ll discuss moving you to solids later. You look great, and your baby seems to be doing well.” I keep my eyes focused on him, waiting for him to elaborate on said ‘baby’. He glances from me to Blake, and then he continues to tell me his plan of care. “Dr. Andrews has scheduled you to have an ultrasound later this afternoon. You seem far too early for your fall to have impacted your baby, but he insists the ultrasound is just to be cautious. Dr. Andrews has decided to take over your prenatal care until you’re discharged. In the meantime, as long as you remain alert and stable, we’ll remove your bandages sometime tomorrow. And if things go smoothly, it’s possible we’ll be able to release you within a few days.”

  He squints his dark, beady eyes at Blake. “I trust that you’ll follow my orders and not your own, Dr. Andrews. You take care of the pregnancy and I’ll cover the brain, got it.” He isn’t asking Blake a question, oh no. He’s warning Blake not to allow our personal life to cloud his better judgment. He hands the chart to Blake, nods curtly, and exits the room.

  Blake’s eyes follow mine as I lift my gown and eye the monitors, waiting for an explanation. “Care to explain? I’m not really pregnant, am I?”

  He bites his lip to contain its twitch before nodding. “You are,” he confirms. His lip escapes his teeth and a huge smile takes over his face. As usual, his beautiful smile’s contagious.

  “You’re smiling,” I smile.

  “I’m smiling,” he nods, his eyes misting over.

  “We’re smiling,” I say, sounding utterly corny. “You’re not mad?”

  He sets the chart down on the foot of the bed and takes my hand in his. “Mad? Hell no.

  We’re having a baby, Allie, you and me … Do you realize how amazing this is?”

  Amazing? Not so sure that my having a baby is amazing, but the fact that he’s happy we’re having a baby … that’s pretty amazing. “How far along?” I ask, knowing I can’t be far.

  “Not sure. It’s hard to tell. We’ve lost ourselves in each other many times,” he reminds me, smiling seductively and licking his hungry lips.

  “True,” I agree. It could have been July in Nashville or the day at the beach. Either way, this baby was deliciously made and I’m blown away by his excitement.

  Three

  ~Wyatt~

  Three days, that’s how long it’s been since I’ve laid eyes on my girl. Three days of physical and emotional hell, complete misery. I can’t stand staring at the same walls another second. I came outside for a minute to get some air, hoping to calm myself down a bit. Being inside there and watching as Blake struts through the hospital sporting a cocky-ass smirk across his face, he’s tempting me. He’s practically begging me to wipe that smile off his motherfucking, pretty-boy face. Next time, it’ll take more than some Barney-fucking-Fife security officer to get me off him.

  No one will tell me anything. Everyone’s been avoiding me, assuming I’m the reason she’s here. For obvious reasons, I can’t approach pretty boy, and Lucille won’t even look my way. I’m impatiently pacing the entrance to the hospital when I hear Lucille’s voice approaching. I follow her voice and make my way to her. I respect her with all that’s in me, but I’ll be damned if she continues to ignore me any longer; I’m going to some sort of update on Allie.

  As I approach Lucille, she glares at me angrily and tries to walk past me without saying a word. Fuck no. She’s going to stop treating me as if I don’t exist. I reach out and grab her by the arm. She stumbles back and her eyes snap to my hand then up to my face, nothing but anger and disgust displaying across her face. “Remove your hand from my arm before I break it, Wyatt,” she snarls. I don’t get it. What have I done to make her turn against me?

  “Lucille, I’ll release my hold on you but you’re going to tell me something about Allie. I need to know something, anything. Please,” I plead. Her eyes are filled with so much anger they’re almost laser-like, burning holes right through mine.

  “You can’t be serious! She’s here because of you, and if you expect me to tell you anything about her, you’re out of your mind,” she seethes, pulling her arm out of my grip.

  “Yes, I’m out of my mind. I lost it three fucking days ago when I found her at the bottom of those steps, completely lifeless! I’ve been losing the rest of it pacing these Goddamn floors for three motherfucking days waiting on someone to tell me she’s okay!” I bellow.

  “You have no right to be concerned about my daughter. I talked to Sophie and I know what happened. I know you were at her home the night Allie fell down the stairs. What I don’t know is how you could sleep with someone else. After all I’ve done for you! After all the shit you’ve put her through, you sleep with her best friend!” she shouts, tears threatening her eyes.

  Her words cause my insides to become knotted. Sleep with Sophie? I would never sleep with anyone besides Allie. I haven’t even looked at another woman since I laid eyes on Allie, over six years ago. “What the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t sleep with anyone, especially not some desperate-ass bar whore. I would never do that to Allie, ever,” I assure her.

  “You can stop playing stupid, Wyatt. I can’t believe you’d do this to her, to me. I’ve been on your side the last three years, ever since you and Kyle told me you joined the Marines with him, and I’ve never told her where you were or why you left. Do you know how hard it is to watch your daughter give birth to a baby at eighteen? Do you have any fucking clue how hard it was to watch her hand over her heart, her only child? You have no idea how much it pained me to watch her cry herself to sleep at night, asking God to bring you back into her life. And not a simple quiet cry with only a few tears shed; she cried heart-wrenching sobs, Wyatt. She cried so hard she couldn’t breathe.” Her voice is strangled and the tears she’s been fighting to hold in win the battle as they glide down her sunken cheeks.

  “I opened my house to you so that you could win her back. I love Blake, and in my opinion, he’s the best man for her, but I know deep down inside she believes she needs you. You ruined any chance you had with her, if you had any at all. She’ll never forgive you. Not only have you shattered her heart, once again, you completely broke mine, too,” she adds, wiping the tears off her face before turning away from me and entering the hospital.

  Now, I’m left remembering how I woke up. I thought it was all a dream, a huge fucking nightmare. Every time I doze off, I get bits and pieces of that night, but I d
idn’t sleep with her, not that I remember. Oh, FUCK! Fuck, fuck, motherfucking FUCK! How could I be so stupid? Of course, I fucked her. Shit! I woke up to the sound of Sophie frantically screaming. When I opened my eyes, I had no clue where the hell I was, but I was completely fucking naked. As soon as I heard her sob Allie’s name, nothing else mattered. I jumped off the bed and sprinted out of the apartment. I didn’t bother throwing on my clothes. I just needed to see what was happening. I needed to know if it was my Allie she was worked up over, and if so, why?

  As soon as my feet hit the platform, my heart stopped and my legs went weak. In front of me lay Allie, splayed out over the concrete, limp and lifeless. Her chest hardly moved as she barely breathed. Her face and arms were covered with bruises; her forehead was skinned, and blood leaked from her mouth.

  I took off like a bat out of hell, three-stepped it to get to her. I knocked Sophie away and scooped Allie into my arms. I rubbed her face and begged her to open her beautiful eyes. I pleaded for her to give me the slightest sign she could hear me, a blink of an eye, a grunt, anything; however, I got nothing. I leaned down to kiss her bloodstained lips and the wounds that covered her head, hoping the electricity that shot through our bodies whenever we connected would wake her, but she never responded. I’ve never been so scared in all my life. Hell, I dodged bullets and bombs for a living, and never once have I been as scared as I was when Allie lay unresponsive in my arms.

  I have no clue how long she lay unconscious. It was early morning before I saw her. Sophie’s neighbor was leaving for work, but when he opened his door, he was greeted by a bruised and bloody Allie blocking his doorstep. While the neighbor called for help, Sophie ran upstairs and grabbed my clothes. When the ambulance arrived, I hopped in and rode with Al to the hospital. I held her hand and prayed she would wake up, which she did, off and on. The EMTs tried to take an accident report from me, but I was no help to them. I had no idea why Allie was there or how she got injured. Shit, I don’t even know what the hell I was doing there. Once we arrived at Onslow Memorial, the EMTs left me behind and rushed Allie into the ER and behind closed doors. They left me behind worried, confused, and completely fucking broken.

  ***

  I can’t believe I’m here, but I have to know how I made the second biggest mistake of my life. Sleeping with another woman isn’t my most regrettable moment; leaving Allie a little over four years ago is. If I had never left, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I’m one huge fuck up. Now, here I am, sitting on an exam table across from a complete stranger, ready to pour my heart out to anyone who will listen, but most importantly, I need someone to believe me. “Mr. Cooper, nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Casey,” he greets, reaching for my hand. “The nurse tells me you’re here for a drug test. Is that correct?” I nod. “Yes, sir.” He pulls his square frame glasses down to the tip of his nose and scrunches his brows. “Would you like to tell me a little more about why you need to have the test done? I need to know anything that can help me determine which tests I need to run.”

  “My girlfriend is here in the ICU, and everyone seems to believe that somehow it’s my fault. See, we got into a heated argument a few days ago, and I walked out on her in the middle of it. Three days ago, I found her outside the apartment lying unconscious on top of the concrete. I woke up completely naked in another woman’s bed, but I have no idea how I got there. I can’t remember much of anything after the argument I had with my girl,” I explain. He clears his throat and looks at me, disbelief written through the wrinkles lining his forehead. I know what he’s thinking, but he’s wrong. He’s probably thinking I got mad at my girl, went out and messed around, got caught, and now I’m looking for excuses. Fuck him. He doesn’t know me. If I were a woman sitting here giving him this story, he’d pity her, no questions asked.

  “Doc, you can get that look off your face and that thought out of your fucking mind. I would never sleep with anyone but Allie,” I announce truthfully. He clears his throat and straightens his tie. Speechless, he nods and encourages me to continue. “She dropped a major bomb on me that night, something that tore my heart apart. I was furious and just needed to get away for a while, to cool off. I drove to Willie’s to grab a few beers to clear my mind and process everything she dropped on me, but that’s really all I remember from that night,” I explain.

  I can tell by the look he’s giving me he’s still having a hard time believing what I’m telling him, but I continue with my story. “Look, no one will talk to me. Her mother tells me the chick I was with the next morning told her we slept together, and I have no recollection of it, none whatsoever. I need you to test me for every mind-altering drug there is. I know I didn’t go to her apartment willingly, and I need you to help me figure out why, please.” A tear or two escape my eyes as I plead for him to hear me out, for him to believe me.

  “Okay. You said this was three days ago, correct?” I nod. “Well, the likelihood is nothing will be in your blood or urine if you’re not a daily user. You’re not, are you?” I shake my head.

  “I’m going to order a urine drug test just to be safe, along with a hair follicle test. If you’ve had any drugs in your system, it’ll definitely show up in your hair. Sometimes, urine tests won’t always catch if you’ve been drugged or not; most drugs are excreted from your system about three days after consumption,” he explains. “I’ll send the nurse in so she can gather your samples. And for the record, I believe you. It’s just not common for a woman to drug a man, that’s all. It should only take a day or so to get the results back. I’ll be in contact soon, Mr. Cooper.” He shakes my hand and leaves me anxiously waiting for the nurse.

  Once the nurse enters, she walks me through the process and explains how the tests work. She plucks a few strands of my hair, gives me a sterilized urine cup, and points me to the restroom. I go to the restroom and she follows me, closing the door behind her. I give her a ‘what the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ look. “Sorry, it’s protocol. I have to monitor you to make sure you’re leaving a valid sample.” Really? Do they expect me to have a bag of urine taped to the side of my thigh? This shit is ridiculous, but whatever. I unzip my pants and unleash my cock. I try not to focus on being watched by the nurse, but the creepy smile she’s letting off as she takes in my soldier is unnerving. I hurry up and fill the cup. I screw the top on, hand it to her, and gather my discharge papers. God, I hope these tests give me the answers I’m looking for. I can’t lose Allie. And if I slept with that slut simply because I was drunk, I’ll go against my word and walk away. However, if my test comes back positive, I’ll keep my promise to Kyle. I’ll fight for her until one of us no longer exists.

  Four

  ~Allie~

  Bile rises into my throat and threatens to expel from my mouth as the transport team quickly transfers me down to have my ultrasound. One last turn around the corner and we’re finally in the elevator. Someone presses a button and down we go. As the elevator drops, everything I’ve been fighting to keep down forces its way out. “I’m sorry,” I cough, closing my eyes and wishing to be invisible. A strong hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “Oh, honey, don’t apologize. You aren’t the first person to share your nasties, and believe me, you won’t be the last.”

  My jaw drops as I encounter a face that’s eerily similar to someone I love and miss very much. “I’m Carson, in case you’re wondering. By the way, your mouth is hanging open. I’m guessing you’re in awe of my great looks. Am I right, or am I right?” he winks. The man in front of me has strong, manly hands. They’re thick with prominent veins on the back of them, and his nails are beautifully manicured; cut short, filed, and covered in a shiny clear coat polish. The skin that covers his forearms is taut from covering the muscles that lie underneath. His body frame is broad, and the dark blue scrub top he’s wearing is begging for mercy, as his huge muscles threaten to tear the material to shreds, just like The Hulk. His smile’s one of perfection, showing as many of his perfectly-straight, white teeth as he po
ssibly can. His green eyes are full of compassion, and his dark buzzed hair sets them off like lint under a black light. If it wasn’t for the lack of ink covering his upper arm, I’d swear I was looking into the face of a ghost. He’s identical to Kyle, minus his voice and manicure. Carson’s voice is feminine sounding, unlike Kyle’s. Kyle’s voice was like a lion’s roar, booming and grabbing everyone’s attention.

  “Geez, girl, you can close your mouth now. I know I’m a sight for all eyes, but there’s nasty germs floating around this place. Close it.” He places his fingertips under my chin and pushes up, forcing my mouth shut.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of conceited?” I ask.

  “Conceited, no. Confident and cocky, hell yes.” He looks back and forth between the nurses and me, claps his fingers together and places them under his chin. “I knew it!” he exclaims, resting his chin on his hands and fluttering his eyelashes.

  “Knew what?” I ask.

  He bends down so that his lips are beside my ear. “That you’re one of us,” he whispers. “You know, one of the ‘fuck off, bitch, I’m awesome’ gang. My new best friend.” He smiles mischievously. I just smile and nod, amused with how he can appear to be so manly, but has more femininity than me.

  The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Carson and the two nurses with him push my bed out into the hall way and roll me into a cold and vaguely-familiar room. The room is dark except for a dim light shining just above an exam table, which is covered in thin white paper. To the right of the table, there’s a keyboard with a ball--looking structure embedded in the center of the keys and a television monitor anchored to the top. To the side of the monitor, there’s a table that holds several items: a large dildo-like wand, condoms, and lube. If I hadn’t been through this once before, I’d be running for the hills, swearing up and down that this hospital’s just a cover up for harboring sex slaves in their basement.