CHAPTER 35
I jolt awake, my eyes flying open, and I’m immediately assaulted by harsh fluorescent lights and sterile white walls. The steady beeping of monitors fills my ears. Every breath feels like I’m dragging sandpaper through my lungs, my throat is raw and burning as though I’d swallowed hot coals. I try to move, but the pain makes me wince, sending sharp spikes of agony shooting through me.
My neck is secured in a rigid brace, and I try to look over to my left as best I can, where I notice a beautiful arrangement of flowers in a crystal vase, yellows, purples, and whites blending together in a cheerful display that seems at odds with the stark hospital room. There are daisies and what looks like purple statice mixed with delicate baby’s breath. My vision blurs as I try to focus on them, the colors swimming together like a watercolor painting in the rain, making me feel slightly dizzy and disoriented.
Everything hurts, from my head to my toes. My jaw throbs with each heartbeat, a constant reminder of what happened, and my body feels like it’s been hit by a truck, every muscle screaming in protest at the slightest movement. The memories come flooding back in vivid, terrifying flashes. Sophie’s screams echoing from the bathroom, Matt’s rage-filled face contorted with anger, Gavin beating on the door. Hot tears start to well up in my eyes, but I fight them back as best I can, blinking rapidly against the sting.
A movement to my right catches my attention. The figure is fuzzy at first, but as it approaches, Gavin’s features come into focus. His expression shows nothing but love and concern, and I notice his red puffy eyes with dark circles underneath them, like he hasn’t slept in days. His usual neat appearance is disheveled, his dark hair unruly, his clothes wrinkled and his facial hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it. The sight of his usually pristine self in such disarray makes my heart clench. I’ve never seen him looking so utterly exhausted, not even during his longest shifts at the veterinary clinic.
“Sophie?” I try to ask, but it comes out as barely more than a whisper, my damaged throat protesting even that small effort. The fear for my daughter overwhelms everything else, making my fingers twist anxiously in the thin hospital sheets.
Gavin leans in closer, his warm hand finding mine on the bed. His familiar gaze locks with mine as he speaks.
“Shhh, she’s with Ms. Lucy in the cafeteria,” he says softly, his thumb drawing gentle circles on my skin, a soothing gesture that makes my heart ache with gratitude. “That little girl is as stubborn as her mama, she wouldn’t leave your side for two days straight. We finally convinced her to go with Ms. Lucy to get clean clothes and bribed her with some chocolate chip cookies, but only after she made me promise to stay right here with you. She even made me pinky swear.”
Two days? I’ve been out for two days? The realization sends a wave of panic through me, and I hear the beep of the monitor I’m hooked up to begin to accelerate wildly. The fluorescent lights above suddenly seem too bright, too harsh. I try to speak again, but Gavin shakes his head and places his palm on my forehead and begins to stroke my hair back from my face.
“Don’t try to talk, Bailey. The doctor says your throat needs time to heal.” He reaches for a cup of water with a bendy straw and holds it to my lips. I feel him shift across the bed and can see he’s grabbed some sort of remote and pressed a button. I take a sip finally and the cool liquid provides momentary relief to my burning throat, though swallowing still feels like torture, each gulp sending sharp pains down my neck.
I can see the worry etched into every line of his face, mixed with something else, guilt maybe? His jaw tightens as his eyes trace over what I’m sure are bruises on my face, his expression darkening with each mark he catalogs. The hospital lights only seem to emphasize the shadows under his eyes, telling me he hasn’t slept since everything happened.
“I’m so sorry Bailey, I should have gotten to you sooner,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “When I saw his hands around you…” He trails off, closing his eyes and dropping his head to rest on the bed as if trying to shake off the memory, his hand tightening ever so slightly around mine. His thumb continues the small traces of circles against my skin.
I squeeze it weakly, trying to convey what I can’t say out loud. None of this was his fault. He lifts his head, and the gentle pressure of his fingers intertwined with mine tells me he understands, even if he can’t fully accept it yet.
“Matt’s in custody,” he continues, seeming to know my unspoken questions. “He’s got a nasty concussion, but he’ll live to face charges. The police have everything they need, the protective order violation, kidnapping, assault. He’s never going to hurt you or Sophie again, Bailey. I promise.”
I stare at him, his words echoing in my head. Matt’s in custody. He’s never going to hurt you or Sophie again. The promise hangs in the air between us, and I can’t quite grasp it. After years of living this nightmare, could it really be over?
A strange lightness fills my chest, bubbling up against the pain of my injuries. It doesn’t feel real. Like I’m floating outside my body, watching this scene play out for someone else. Some lucky woman who gets to stop running.
“Are you… sure?” My voice cracks again, barely audible.
He nods, his gaze steady on mine. “The police are processing the restraining order violation alone, not to mention what he did to you. There’s no chance of bail.”
I try to swallow but my throat constricts.
Freedom.
The word tastes foreign on my tongue, sweet but somehow frightening. What does life even look like without fear as my constant companion?
For so long, Matt has been the shadow looming over every decision, every smile, every hope I’ve had for Sophie and me. His threat shaped our lives, dictated where I could go, what I could wear, who I could trust. And now Gavin is telling me that shadow is gone.
I should feel relief. Joy. Something. Instead, I feel oddly hollow, like someone’s scooped out my insides and left me empty. Is this shock? Is this what shock feels like? Disbelief? Or have I simply forgotten how to exist without danger breathing down my neck?
“Bailey?” Gavin’s voice cuts through the fog. His hand squeezes mine gently. “You’re safe now. Both of you.”
Safe. Such a simple word. Four letters that have been out of reach for so long.
I close my eyes, letting the tears fall freely now. Maybe I don’t need to understand this feeling right away. Maybe I just need to breathe through it, one moment at a time.
I hear someone open the door and my eyes fly back open, desperately trying to focus and I watch as a woman in light blue scrubs enters the room, her dark hair pulled back in a neat high ponytail. Her name tag reads “Samantha.” and she has kind brown eyes.
“Good to see you’re awake, Ms. Monroe,” she says, moving to check the monitors beside my bed. “I’m your nurse, Samantha, but you can call me Sam. I’ve been your day nurse and taking care of you since you came in.” Her voice is gentle and professional as she makes notes on her tablet, the quiet tapping of her fingers against the screen filling the silence.
Gavin starts to pull his hand away to give her space, but I tighten my grip as much as my weakened state allows. I don’t want to lose this connection, this anchor to reality. The warmth of his palm against mine feels like the only thing keeping me grounded right now. He seems to understand my silent plea and stays right where he is, though he does scoot his chair back slightly to give Nurse Sam more room to work.
“How’s your pain level?” she asks, looking at me directly. “Blink once for manageable, twice for needs attention.”
I blink twice without hesitation. A lone tear escapes my left eye, and Gavin gently brushes it away. Now that I’m fully conscious, the pain is becoming more intense. My neck feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice, and my head is pounding with each heartbeat.
“Okay, sweetie,” she nods, already moving to the IV stand with practiced efficiency. “I’ve got something that will help with that. Dr. Gibbs has you on a pretty strong pain management protocol.” She begins checking the various tubes and lines connected to me.
“The bruising around your throat is still pretty significant,” she explains as she works, adjusting one of the tubes with careful precision, “and there’s some swelling that we’re monitoring. That’s why we’ve got you in the neck brace. Try to keep movement minimal for now.” Her fingers are cool and professional as she checks the fit of the brace.
I feel Gavin’s hand tighten around mine again, his calloused fingers pressing into my skin as I wince from the minor adjustment.
Nurse Sam must notice too because her voice softens as she continues, taking on an almost maternal tone. “But you’re healing well. The CT scan showed no permanent damage to your trachea, and the bruising will fade with time.” She pulls out a syringe and begins administering medication through my IV, the clear liquid flowing steadily into the line. “This is going to make you feel pretty drowsy, but sleep is the best thing for you right now.”
Already, I can feel the medicine beginning to work its way through my body, a warm numbness spreading from my arm throughout. The sharp edges of pain that were just there moments ago begin to blur and soften.
“That little girl of yours is something special,” she adds as she disposes of the syringe in the sharps container mounted on the wall. “She’s been reading stories to you non-stop. Said her mama always reads to her when she’s sick, so she wanted to return the favor.” She smiles warmly. “The whole nursing staff has fallen in love with her. Even brought in some coloring books and puzzles from the pediatric ward to keep her occupied. She’s got quite the collection of drawings taped up at the nurses’ station.”
Tears spring back to my eyes at the thought of my brave little Sophie, trying so hard to take care of me. My heart aches with a bittersweet mixture of pride and sadness, she’s so young to have gone through so much already.
She’s been trying so hard to be brave, to take care of me, when she should feel safe enough to process her own feelings too. My sweet, precious little girl has been holding herself together, being the strong one, when that should never have been her burden to bear. The realization makes my chest tight with guilt. I need to show her it’s okay to not be okay, to cry, to let all those big feelings out. She needs to know that even though Mama’s sick, I’m still here to catch her when she falls.
The overwhelming urge to hold her hits me full force but the medication is making it harder to keep my eyes open.
“Don’t fight it,” Nurse Sam says softly, patting my shoulder. “Your body needs rest to heal. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” She adjusts something on one of the monitors and heads toward the door, pausing to look back at Gavin. “Make sure she doesn’t try to talk too much. Small sips of water are fine, but her throat needs time.”
Gavin nods, his thumb still making those soothing circles on my hand.
“Thank you.” He replies.
As the door closes behind her with a soft click, I feel myself drifting, everything around me growing fuzzy. The steady beep of monitors fades into white noise, and the last thing I’m aware of is Gavin’s voice in the distance, “I’m right here, baby. Get some rest.”
The pain medication pulls me under like a gentle tide, and I float away on it, knowing that for the first time in a long time, I’m truly safe. Sophie is protected, Matt is in custody, and Gavin is here, standing guard like a sentinel. His presence alone makes me feel safer than any locked door ever could. The nightmare is over, even if the recovery is just beginning.
My last coherent thought before sleep claims me completely is of Sophie, and I pray that she knows how much I love her, how proud I am of her. We’ll get through this together, my brave little girl and me and maybe we can finally start building the life we deserve, free from fear and full of love, the kind of life I’ve always dreamed of giving her.