The officer stood up. "Well, if that's all you have to say today, I'll be going. Until next time, Miss Lockyer."
"Mmm hmmm," Caitlin murmured quietly, her eyes still closed.
He nodded to me and I returned the curt gesture.
He left, but I watched Caitlin. She hadn't shown any warning signs of feeling faint. I wondered if I should call a nurse.
The door clicked shut behind the man and I saw her go from rigid to relaxed.
"Do you want me to call a nurse?" I tested.
Caitlin breathed a sigh so deep it made her sink further into the pillows. "No, it's okay. I just need to rest."
"You absolutely do," I replied. "Rest and heal. Tomorrow I'll bring in the laptop and you can tell me everything you remember."
She sucked in a breath but she didn't reply.
37
Dark. Laboured breathing.
Couldn't see.
Touch.
Skin on skin.
So cold.
Moaning. Coughing.
Can't find a blanket.
Cold.
Need warmth.
Blood.
Silent scream.
Can't.
Die...
Help.
Need to run.
Can't
Oh God
38
"Pervert. Sorry. Oh God, so sorry." Caitlin rubbed her cheek against her shoulder. A smear of tears turned the cotton from light blue to dark. "Let me go..."
If I'd thought having to listen to her nightmares was bad, writing her memories was worse. I've never seen anyone cry as much as Caitlin did those first two hours.
"No reply, no light. More pain, bitter tears. Alone in the dark when I needed help." Her voice broke into a sob on the last word, but she hiccupped and continued. "I remember lying down, sobbing. Cold, rough, hard concrete. Dusty. Made me cough but no one heard. Pain. Relief that no one heard me..."
She sat with her eyes closed, tears streaming down her face as she fought to find the words to describe the horrors she could remember. Disjointed memories – every one of them dark.
"Don't touch me! Hold her down, I said... Touch me and I'll kick your face in! How are you going to do that with him holding you down? I said..." She swallowed painfully. "No!"
I'd keep typing until she stopped, her sobs choking her into silence. Then I'd put an arm around her shoulder, she'd cry into my shirt for a while, she'd sit up, hiccupping, and she'd start again, presumably where she'd left off.
"Too heavy... couldn't breathe... hhhurt me... couldn't scream. Hurt me again. Gasping, sobbing... no air. Crushing weight lifted... a breath... another. Why a reprieve? Touching me... NO! A scream... mine... hhhurt me more..."
It was like watching her throw up.
"Don't touch me... don't touch her... don't..." Caitlin's voice failed. I waited, but she went on. "Can't stop. Must... shouting... shots... hurts... No. Can't stop. Must... hurts... Can't get up. Must... red light... blood. Scared... slipping..."
At first, I thought I could take it, but what was coming out of her mouth and what it was doing to her made me sick to my stomach.
"T-t-took my clothes... tried to fight... threatened me. Scared... froze... cried... couldn't fight. So cold... ssshhhivering and cold in the dark... Two – two of them."
By halfway through, I wanted to kill them all.
"B-bound my hands... broke my fingers. Screaming... pain... Couldn't see for tears. He had a knife... cut my clothes off." She swallowed. "Tried to kick him. Couldn't see. Too dark. He... caught my legs. Pushed them down... apart... unzipped... Oh God, please... no..."
By the time she'd been at it for a couple of hours and was so choked up she couldn't do it anymore, I was ready to not just kill them, but chop them up into small pieces and burn their remains, in no particular order. Then burn the clothes I'd been wearing and take a shower in disinfectant.
I asked Caitlin if she wanted to take a look at what I'd written, to add to it where I hadn't been able to type fast enough, but she shook her head, her eyes tightly closed.
"Later," she murmured. "Another day. I can't any more today." She lay down again on the pillows and turned her face away from me.
"Did you want me to leave you alone for a bit?" I asked hesitantly, already thinking about getting a nice coffee from the cafe downstairs and the possibility of any distraction to get the last two hours out of my head. I wondered how many sexy nurses and doctors visited the coffee shop.
"Please don't." The face Caitlin turned toward me now was wide-eyed with fear. "I don't want to sleep again yet. I'm going to have nightmares after this."
You're not the only one, I thought.
I hesitated for a second before I offered, "Why don't you come downstairs and we'll get a coffee? There's a coffee shop downstairs and they had some nice-looking cakes this morning. I know the hospital staff don't let you have cake..."
She gave a tiny smile, looking wistful. Before she could refuse, I called the nurses' station to arrange a wheelchair and some theatre scrubs for her to wear.
As I hung up the phone, I looked down and realised I could do with a change, too, out of my salt-encrusted shirt and into a clean one. I pulled the dirty one over my head and dug in my bag for clean clothes.
I heard Caitlin make a sound behind me as she shifted between the sheets. I turned to see why. She was looking at the bathroom door, turned away from me.
"What is it?" I asked, moving closer to her.
She kept her face averted and pressed her lips together. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Nothing," she said softly.
"Are you sure?" I asked, touching her arm.
She shuddered and shrank away from me. "Please, I... Let me know when you're done changing your clothes."
I looked down. It's not as if I'd suddenly sprouted a beer belly. I still had my six-pack; softened a bit by days in bed, but a six-pack I was proud of, nonetheless. I resolved to work out a bit more when she was asleep. It was as I was looking down that I realised.
Oh, shit. This much bare skin made her uncomfortable. No bloody wonder. I crossed the room to the far corner by the window and turned my back to put my shirt on, so I didn't have to see her horror. How anyone thought I could ever seduce this girl was beyond me. Not a hope in hell.
Nurse Judith came in before I could say anything else to Caitlin. The blonde nurse held the scrubs clenched in one fist as she told me, "If you want a wheelchair for her, you'll have to go to the ward clerk at the nurses' station to find out where one is." She glared at me. "Get out. I'm going to help her change."
I looked askance at Caitlin, but she sat with her head down and her eyes closed, too miserable to react.
I left the room, but stood outside the door where I could still hear. Just because this nurse hadn't hurt her before didn't mean she wasn't a danger today.
"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." Judith's disapproval of me was palpable. "He sat in the chair by your bed and wouldn't leave, even when I was changing your dressings."
Caitlin roused herself enough to reply, though her voice was muffled. "Really? Why? Did he say?"
Judith sounded disgruntled. "He said he'd promised you something and he wasn't letting you out of his sight." She evidently didn't believe it.
"Then I should thank him when he gets back," Caitlin said softly.
Back. Oh shit. I strode down the ward to the nurses' station, asking as quietly as I could for a spare wheelchair I could borrow. The phone rang just as the ward clerk opened her mouth to answer me, so she pointed at one down the corridor as she picked up the receiver in her other hand.
I grabbed the wheelchair and pushed it as quickly as I could back to Caitlin's hospital room.
"Thank you," Caitlin said quietly as I reached her room. Nurse Judith glared at me as she walked out of the door before I could go in, but sh
e didn't say anything.
Caitlin looked up at me hopefully. I lifted her into the wheelchair and we headed to the lift.
It had to be the strangest first date I'd ever been on: with a girl wearing a pair of borrowed pyjamas in public, drinking coffee through a straw, while I spoon-fed her a slice of every cake they had – a grand total of three. I didn't taste a bite of them and I couldn't even remember what they were when they were gone.
The cafe speakers played some boy band I'd never heard of, but when I asked Caitlin to identify them for me, she didn't know, either. We talked about music and movies, safe topics that stayed away from her nightmares.
I lost track of both the time and the cake. I looked down to get her another bite to find all the cake was gone. "Do you think we have time for another round before the staff upstairs realise I've kidnapped you and decide to report you missing?"
It took a moment for my horrified brain to catch up with my mouth. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." I looked up into her eyes and forgot whatever I'd meant to say.
Her whole face lit up as she smiled and let out a peal of laughter that drowned out the anonymous boy band.
So beautiful. Even the perky boy band agreed with me. I stared at her, mesmerised, dimly aware that other cafe patrons were looking at her, too. For that moment, I wanted... what I couldn't have.
She noticed people staring and blushed, looking down at her lap. "I think I've had enough cake to last me for the next month, and I'm sure I'd hate to be reported missing. Please, could we go back upstairs?" Her voice was barely audible.
I babbled thoughtlessly as we waited for the lifts. "I'm sure you were just making up for the last month. We'd have to come back and do this again to get you in credit for the next month!"
Nice. Remind her that those bastards starved her, too.
She stayed silent as I pushed her into the lift and back to her room. As I helped her back into bed, she smiled at me again, to my surprise, although less brilliantly than before.
"Perhaps, Nathan," she finally replied. "But not before tomorrow. I'll be sick if I have any more cake today."
39
Sweet smell to set stomach stirring.
Sick or hungry?
Not sure.
Dizzy and dark.
Here.
Taste and texture, teeth sliding over skin.
Crunch of apple, chewing, swallowing.
Too fast to taste. Too hungry.
Forcing food to stay down.
Water?
Cold and tasteless in a plastic cup.
No whiff of chlorine.
Not city water.
Far from home.
Far from help.
No one nearby to hear me scream.
Want more.
More food.
More water.
More help.
Please
40
"No breakfast for you, hon. A cancellation in the theatres moved your skin graft up to this morning," the unfamiliar nurse said briskly as she bustled in, sticking a sign on Caitlin's bedhead that read: Nil by mouth. She swept out without another word.
As if on cue, one of the smiling breakfast ladies entered, a tray on each arm as she headed to where I sat beside Caitlin. I could smell bacon, burned toast and coffee, my stomach roaring audibly for all of it.
I shook my head. "She has surgery today. I won't have any, either."
Caitlin looked up at me, her brow wrinkled. "Why not?"
I tried to smile. "I don't want to throw up on the operating theatre floor," I admitted. I felt queasy already.
Comprehension broke like a wave over her face. "You mean you're coming in with me?" Her expression turned to amazement.
I wondered if I'd stuck my foot in my mouth again. "Only if you want me there. They'll put you under and..."
"Oh God." She shuddered and looked like she was having trouble swallowing. "Please, I... I do. I didn't realise they'd knock me out for it. I'll be asleep and they'll be touching me..." Her voice died, horrified into silence.
My stomach settled a little as I reached out and carefully placed my hand on her arm. My little finger grazed the edge of the bandage on her wrist. I could feel her shaking as goosebumps formed under my fingers – I felt her fear. My mind rapidly clicked from conflicted to calm. I could do this for Caitlin. "I'll be there. I'll scrub up and watch over you as you sleep until your eyes open in Recovery."
She was still so scared and stiff, but Caitlin managed a weak laugh. "You sound like some sort of sick stalker out of a movie for teenagers. Is there something wrong with me that I'm relieved to have you watch me sleep?"
I joined her laughter, though mine had strength that hers lacked. "There's nothing wrong with you that time and rest won't fix after a little surgery today. You're going to be fine. I'll make sure of it." As long as I didn't throw up.
Luckily, it wasn't long before an orderly collected her to be prepped for theatre. I stayed beside her in the curtained cubicle they'd assigned her while she waited for the anaesthetist. She was already drowsy from the first set of drugs they'd given her as I'd looked on. I'd learned my lesson. I wasn't letting her take any more medication without knowing what it was and who gave it to her.
Caitlin stretched out her hand to me, looking like a bemused drunk with her slight, sleepy smile. "Will you be here when I wake up?" she slurred.
I smiled. One day it'd be nice to go the pub with her and see how many drinks it took to make her slur like this again. "Absolutely, angel. Your own personal stalker."
"Not a stalker," she mumbled. Further mumbling followed, but I didn't understand it. Her eyelids dropped.
"Tell me that again," I said softly, not expecting her to respond.
"They did. They were watching me. Three of them. Don't know who was the bigger pervert..." Her voice meandered off into a sigh. I strained to hear more.
"I need space to work, mate," an unfamiliar voice said. I straightened up.
The anaesthetist had arrived.
"You can see her when she's out of Recovery, after surgery's over," he said, nodding to an orderly to start shifting Caitlin's bed.
I panicked. "No, I'm going in with her. I swore I wouldn't leave her alone. I'm supposed to guard her..."
He snorted. "Hope you've got a strong stomach, then. This one's a skin graft and they're not pretty. Go scrub up and don't forget your shoe covers." He waved his security pass over the door behind him and kicked it open for me.
I was torn between Caitlin and the gaping door.
He waved his hand down his theatre blues. "You can't go into theatre 'til you're a Smurf like the rest of us. I'm taking her through and I'll see you in there."
I gave in and forced myself to step into the changing room. The door closed heavily behind me, like a dungeon door that didn't open often. Feverishly, I looked around for the shelves of scrubs. It hadn't been that long since I'd done my med school pracs...
Stripping off as quickly as I could, I tried not to think about having to wear the blue overalls again. I'd never expected to have to do it. That part of my life was done. Over. There would never be a Dr Miller. That dream had died with Alanna. Or on an autopsy table, when they'd asked me to identify the body of my dead sister. Oh, shit... I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think of anything but Alanna.
Caitlin. I was here for Caitlin.
I struggled into the cotton clothes and found the disposables that finished off the costume. Shoe covers, cap, eye shield, mask. I put them all on and pushed the door to the theatre open. I caught the faint whiff of fresh blood and disinfectant before I held my breath. I let it out slowly, striding across the room to Caitlin's head.
"Who's he?" one masked figure asked another.
"The guard you're waiting for. Let's get this done. I want this procedure finished before coffee comes. Catering swore there'd be strawberry tarts today..."
Like we had yesterday, I thought as I looked down at Caitlin's sleeping face. Her beautiful eyes we
re closed, her hair covered by a cap, but her face was still a little worried. I reached for her hand, then thought better of it. I touched my fingers to her cheek instead. "I'm here," I murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."
I forced myself to watch the bloody procedure, as a patch of skin was cut from one part of her leg and attached over the bullet wound on Caitlin's thigh. Somehow this was easier to bear than seeing her wounds revealed – today was about helping her recover, a cosmetic patch over a gaping hole that shouldn't be there. That wouldn't be there, if...
Don't think about it!
Keeping my breathing shallow, I tried to ignore the smells and sounds that were the same as any other operating theatre I'd been in before Alanna died. When I'd wanted to help people, not kill them.
I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. They were almost done and she hadn't woken or cried out. Caitlin's breath was a slight breeze over my fingers.
Breathe. She's alive. Keep her that way.
I bit my lip so hard behind my mask that I could taste my own blood.
"Take her to Recovery," a male voice said from between the two bloodied hands he held up. "Wash up. Time for coffee."
Pulling the shroud of paper and plastic off my head, I followed Caitlin out of the operating theatre and down the stark, breezy corridor to Recovery. I ripped the shoe covers off, too, keeping my hand by her cheek as I hopped and struggled to keep up.
I didn't struggle for long. The orderly left her bed under a patch of ceiling decorated with cheerful stickers for children. I glared at him, but he left without a word. I dropped my disposable stuff in the bin by the entrance and paced around her bed, waiting for Caitlin to wake up. There were no visitor chairs in Recovery. You were either staff or a recovering patient.
I felt drained from standing in readiness to calm Caitlin while forcing myself to watch my first surgical procedure since I'd dropped out of university. Since Alanna had died. Since I'd sworn I'd hunt down the bastards who'd hurt her and... Caitlin. Right now, my primary concern was Caitlin. There was nothing more I could do for Alanna. Take care of Caitlin.
Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer (Nightmares Trilogy) Page 7
