“Candace, Detective Patterson needs to ask you a few questions,” she says. “Can I send him in?”
Knowing that Candace needs space, I ask, “Can she at least get dressed first?”
“Of course,” she says, and then leaves the room.
I hand Candace the bag and watch as she drags herself to the bathroom. While she’s in there, someone knocks on the door. I open it to see an older man with a badge clipped to his belt standing there.
“Hi, I’m the detective that’s been assigned to this case.”
“She’s in the bathroom,” I say before Candace walks out.
“Ms. Parker,” he says. “I’m Detective Patterson. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“Right now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ve already told the nurse everything. Why can’t you just ask her?” I can tell she’s at her end, and I just want to get her out of here. She shakes her head, and says, “Look, I don’t want to press charges or anything like that, so . . .”
Fuck. I knew she would do this. She avoids everything, but her words feel like a goddamn stab to my lungs.
“Ma’am, I know this is difficult, but there’s a good chance we can catch this guy, and the fact that we have a witness—”
She hangs her head and completely shuts down as he continues to talk. When he hands her his card, she shoves it in her pocket. I shake the detective’s hand as he walks out, and as soon as he leaves, another nurse walks back in. Christ, it’s never-ending.
“I’m just going to clean up and bandage these cuts for you, okay?”
I take a seat in one of the chairs across from Candace. The nurse is cleaning up her face when I hear her ask Candace if she needs the morning after pill. My head snaps up, and I stare at Candace as she sits there for a second, revulsion plastered all over her face. “I think so,” she whispers.
“Fucker,” I mutter and drop my head in my hands, trying my hardest to control my anger and not start throwing my fist into the walls. I have never—not in my whole life—felt the wrath that I feel right now.
The nurse keeps talking, but I don’t hear what she’s telling Candace. I’m too focused on settling myself down, trying to weaken the erratic pounding of my heart. Once all the discharge papers are signed, I can’t hold Candace tight enough to me as I walk her out to my car. She cringes in pain as I help her up into her seat. I reach over her and strap the seatbelt across her lap. Tears flood her eyes when I reach out to touch her face, wincing when I make contact, and then letting her head fall into my hand. She begins weeping, and I just stare at her—desolate. I wish I could do something to help her. I wish she would’ve come to my place tonight like I had asked her to. I could throw a thousand worthless wishes into the air, but none of them would change this nightmare, so I quit tormenting myself. I kiss her shoulder before closing the door.
She’s silent as she stares out the window while I drive her back to my place. The misery is palpable; the way life can change in a matter of a moment. I look over at her as she sits there—lifeless—and I desperately want to make it all disappear.
I help her out of the car and hold her hand as we walk into the building. She keeps a death grip on my hand but doesn’t speak. When I unlock the door to my apartment, she lets go of me and heads straight to my bathroom, closing the door behind her. It feels like there are bricks in the pit of my stomach, razor sharp. The past few hours are a complete haze. I hear the water to the shower turn on as I sit down on the couch. I wish I knew what to say, what to do, but I feel so helpless.
Laying my head back, I hear her start to cry. Dropping my head in my hands, I can’t stop my own tears from falling. Fuck. When her cries turn into howling sobs, I leap off the couch and rush into the bathroom.
I look at her through the steamed glass, on her knees, at the bottom of the shower. I feel like all the air is sucked out of my lungs. Seeing her like this is almost unbearable, so I quickly kick off my shoes and socks, open the shower door, and wrap my arms around her from behind as she breaks. I don’t know what else to do, so I just cover her bruised and cut body with mine.
I have no clue what the hell really happened, and knowing Candace, she will never say. He beat the shit out of her, that much is evident. Rage roils in my gut when I think about what he did to her. I know I have to keep it together though, ‘cause she’s going to need me.
Listening to her wails is excruciating. I love this girl more than anything, and to see her in this much pain kills me. I’m so scared for her; I’m afraid of what this has done to her. I know there is nothing I could possibly say, so I just cling to her as she falls apart in my arms.
When she exhausts herself and quiets down, she remains frozen in my hold. I don’t think twice when I stand to get my body wash. Still in my gym shorts and t-shirt, I begin to clean her as she sits there, vacant, on the bottom of my shower. When I finish washing her hair, she finally looks up at me, and I see it. Desperation.
I shut the water off, strip out of my wet clothes, and grab some towels. Drying her off, I help her change. She just cries and apologizes as if she’s a burden. I pick her up and carry her to my bed. Tucking her into me, I wrap myself around her and never loosen my grip.
Chapter eleven
I don’t even question skipping my classes today. We didn’t get home from the hospital until close to six o’clock this morning, and Candace has been waking from nightmares all day. When she’s up, she sobs, and when she sleeps, she thrashes around and screams herself awake. I don’t know what to do for her, so I just hold her.