8. Dahlia #2
“Shh, shh it’s okay,” she murmured, soothing me as I completely broke down, everything hitting me all at once.
Someone helped me into a chair and hands pressed a box of tissues into my lap as I cried.
It was like a dam burst inside me, I didn’t even know I had this many tears in me.
I went through the entire box, leaving a small mountain of crumpled snotty tissues on the table beside me.
Asher appeared at some point with a bottle of water, and I drank half of it in one shot, feeling horribly dehydrated.
Finally the sobs began to subside, and I started to laugh again. Amanda knelt beside me, her eyes wide and confused. “Josh broke up with me today,” I burst out, laughing harder. Her eyes narrowed, and she stood up, glaring at Asher like it was his fault.
“You brought that dipshit here and let him dump her? Really!?” she snapped, and he held up his hands, warding her off.
“We had no idea he was going to do that. We interviewed him initially, and he said he wanted to be contacted with any news, so that’s what we did. I had no idea he would do that, honestly,” Asher insisted.
“You should’ve. Some FBI agents you are. I could’ve told you he was a spineless little bitch,” she huffed.
I shot her a dirty look. “Hey, he wasn’t all bad,” I protested. “And you said you liked him, remember?”
Amanda sighed and touched my arm. “I lied, you have terrible taste in men,” she told me gently, and I laughed, more tears working their way out. “He helped me put out flyers for the first couple weeks, but then he stopped showing up. He gave up,” she muttered and threw me an apologetic look.
“Did you really harass the FBI for me every day?” I asked her softly, and she laughed.
“No, she harassed the police department at first since they were in charge of the initial disappearance,” Asher corrected, and we both turned to look at him.
“Then, once we took over, Amanda started pestering us. She would come here every day after work to remind us about your case, bringing us pictures of you, lists of names of all your students… we probably have the names of every person you’ve ever spoken with in your entire life.
” He smiled, and Amanda lifted her chin with pride.
“Then she somehow got ahold of my personal cell phone number and started texting me every day as well.”
Amanda smirked, giving me a sidelong glance. “You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested,” I told her with a smile. “Stalking federal agents is probably some kind of crime.” She rolled her eyes.
“He’s not an agent, he’s a doctor , right Doc?” she teased, and Asher chuckled. It was weird to see them interacting like this, to know that they knew each other separately from knowing me. I stifled a yawn, but eagle-eyed Mandy noticed it immediately.
“You need to rest,” she announced, “And what’s this about stitches? Where do you have stitches?” she demanded. Damn, I was hoping she’d forgotten about that.
I motioned behind me, wincing slightly at the movement. “Just on my back, it’s fine though. They’re healing,” I told her. She spun my chair around and yanked up my shirt, eyeing the bandages covering the half-healed wounds.
“What else?” Amanda asked abruptly. “I can see the bandages on your neck and the bruises. Is there anything else?” she asked me, her voice deathly serious.
I shook my head quickly, but I could tell she didn’t quite believe me.
She lifted my shirt higher, revealing the scars of the previous damage he’d inflicted.
“Oh, I’m going to fucking rip him to shreds with my bare hands,” she snarled, and I pulled my shirt down quickly. “How have you not found this guy yet?!” She whirled on Asher. His brow furrowed as he looked down at his feet, and I saw the muscle in his jaw clench.
“We have a nationwide search underway, he can’t hide for long,” he assured her, but she crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed.
“And how do you plan to keep her safe in the meantime?” Amanda demanded, and I groaned, resting my head on the table. Immediately they both turned to look at me. “Dahlia what’s wrong?”
“Can I just go home?” I asked, sitting back up. “Please? I’m tired.” I was a lot of things, but right now tired seemed like the easiest excuse. Amanda bit her lip, her eyes filled with sympathy, and I felt like another shoe was about to drop. “What? What is it?”
“Oh sweety, I’m so sorry. But your apartment...” she trailed off, her hands waving anxiously in front of her. “I fought your landlord for weeks, but your lease was up, and since we couldn’t say for sure if you’d be coming back...” My eyes widened in horror.
“I’m homeless?!” I shouted, my voice cracking from all the tears I’d shed. Amanda nodded sadly. “Oh my god, what about my stuff? My books, my furniture??” I asked, feeling more tears building up.
“I have all of it, don’t worry!” Amanda replied quickly, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“I got a storage unit and got it all packed away. I wouldn’t let them throw anything out.
” I smiled wanly, still devastated over the loss of my little apartment.
It hadn’t been much, it was not like part-time professors made that much, but it had been mine.
“We’ve got you set up in a hotel for now,” Asher told me, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
Had he known I was homeless the entire time and just let me believe I’d be sleeping in my own bed tonight?
“It’s not safe for you to go back to the places you’d frequent just yet,” he explained quickly.
“On the off chance that Curing might try to find you, it’s best if you stay under the radar. ”
“I’ll bring you some of your things, clothes and stuff,” Amanda added quickly, glancing at Asher as if daring him to say no. He just nodded along, looking at me with so much sympathy I wanted to throw something at him. I wasn’t someone to be pitied.
“How about you go and grab some of Dahlia’s things now and then you can meet us at the hotel? I can text you the address, you’ll need to show your ID to get up to the floor though,” Asher explained, and Amanda nodded quickly. She gave me another hug, careful not to squeeze too hard.
“See you in a couple of hours baby girl.” She smiled and gave me a kiss on the forehead, waving as she walked out. I waited until she was gone to sink back into my seat, hissing as my stitches stretched and sent waves of pain over my body.
I noticed Asher had pulled out his phone and was texting someone, a frown creasing his forehead.
He finally shoved it back into his pocket and moved over to my side, his fingers brushing my shoulder.
“I can take you to the hotel now if you like, your room’s all set up and the doctor will meet us there to check you out.
” I nodded tiredly, my eyes gritty and swollen from all the crying I’d been doing.
I let him help me up, every movement sending fire across my back.
The walk to the car took ages, thanks to my slow shuffle-walk, and by the time I reached Asher’s car I was nearly blacking out from exhaustion.
He helped me into the seat, and I immediately drifted off as we started to drive.
I had a moment of horrified panic when I woke up in a bed and not the car, my back spasming in pain when I sat up too quickly.
“Hey whoa, you’re okay, we’re at the hotel.
” Asher’s voice cut through the panic, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.
His face appeared beside me, full of its usual concern, and my heart rate returned to a reasonable speed.
I couldn’t wait for the day when waking up wouldn’t immediately cause me intense stress.
“Sorry, I did try to wake you up when we got here, but you were out cold.” He smiled sheepishly.
“The doctor’s here, waiting outside. Would you like to see her now or do you want to wait a few minutes?
” I looked over at the door, biting my lip as I considered my options.
The sooner she looked me over, the sooner I could go back to bed.
“You can send her in,” I murmured, pulling back the covers to swing my legs out.
He walked away, closing the door behind him, and a friendly-looking middle-aged woman walked in a few minutes later.
I could feel her eyes scanning me as I stood to greet her, clenching my jaw as the ache surged through my back.
“Please, sit,” she told me gently, and I sighed and sat back down on the bed.
“Do you mind if I get your blood pressure?” she asked, pulling a portable device out of her bag.
I shrugged and held out my arm, letting her slip the cuff up to my armpit.
I watched dully as the cuff squeezed until my fingers tingled, then finally released its hold.
“Excellent. Now, Dr. Cross tells me you have some injuries to your back that are causing you some pain. Can I take a look?” Her voice was soft and motherly, and it made my chest hurt a little.
“Sure, that’s fine,” I told her. She had me lay down on my stomach on the bed and lifted the back of my shirt, raising it up to my shoulders. I laid still when she pulled back my bandages, my eyes growing heavy as she studied me in silence.
“I’m not going to put the bandages back on, as long as you promise to wear loose clothing for a while,” she told me.
“The air will help you heal. And you can shower, just don’t scrub the stitches or they might tear before you’re completely healed.
” I nodded along quietly, and she lowered my shirt back down to cover me.
“Now, several of the cuts did impact the muscles in your lower back which are important for a lot of your movements, that’s why it’s hurting so much.
I was told you were giving some pain medication, but that you’ve refused to take it.
May I ask why?” She looked at me as I sat up, studying me intently.