Chapter 5Olivia
Olivia
My side dips into the thin mattress, eyes lazily dragging across the skinny stripes of the pale-yellow curtain. Murmured conversations jumble with medical carts scrolling along the tile, but all sounds are muffled in comparison to the ones echoing through my mind.
My hysterical pleas.
His coarse voice brutally grinding against my flesh.
All that horrid noise beats around the walls of my brain like a boomerang. Shock steadily departs my body, but the chill of its remnants sprinkles along my skin.
I continue to stare blankly at the patterned drape in front of me, grateful for the busy sounds of caregivers that scurry the perimeter of my small shelter. My fingertips greet the loose weaves of the gauze taped to my forehead—a weak attempt to stabilize my spinning mind.
The curtain slides open, curling with the bend of the steel track. I pop up to a sitting position, and Nurse Joy welcomes my mom and Lauren to flood the cubicle.
I gasp, burrowing into my mother’s already outstretched arms. Her lavender-vanilla scent temporarily warms the vicious chill, choked sobs falling from her mouth and into my hair.
“Oh my god,” she breathes. “Thank God. Thank God you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
Our arms practically crush each other, the snug embrace forcing our chests to battle for air. Tears chute from the corners of my eyes, the wet trails stacking all the emotions.
Fear.
Relief.
Terror.
Repeat.
A newfound, yet dreadful cycle.
“I was so scared,” I whisper against the wool of her jacket.
Her palms frame the back of my head, petting lightly as she rests her chin atop it. “Shh, you’re okay now. You’re safe.”
Another pair of gentle hands greets my shoulders from behind. My roommate rubs up and down the fabric of my shacket covering my upper arms, and I’m so grateful.
I’m sandwiched between two people I thought I’d never see again. A moment of sheer love that could’ve easily been yanked out from under me.
For good.
“I know this is a lot to take in, but Olivia’s vitals aren’t alarming.”
Nurse Joy’s voice cuts in, and our three bodies recede from one another. All our fingers lift to wipe the puddles under our eyes, sniffles tangling between us as she continues.
“Your neurological exam looked good, but we’re ordering you to rest until we’re sure you’re not suffering any kind of concussion.”
I nod as my vision clears, and Joy’s brown eyes empathize with me. Then my mom takes a few steps toward her. “Does she need stitches? What happened?”
Evident panic fuels Mom’s questions, but Nurse Joy shakes her head. “No stitches. She seemed to have bumped her head. We cleaned and bandaged up the cut. That’s all.”
Mom’s blonde curls bob as she accepts the explanation, but my eyes rip from her when a tall policeman enters the snug space.
“Ms. Sawyer?”
I swallow past a thick lump, body falling rigid in my sitting position on the emergency room bed. Nurse Joy and Mom drift apart to allow him room, and Lauren slips beside me to squeeze my shoulder with her palm.
The officer’s stuffed belt jangles as his legs move, the tap of his heavy boots echoing throughout the quiet haven. “Yes?” I croak.
“I’m Officer Peter Bellmont.” He stands before me with his thumbs hooked in his utility belt, the ambient lighting of the short ceiling reflecting off his bald head. “I was at the scene when you were taken to the hospital. How are you feeling?”
My clammy palms mesh together in my lap before my mouth pries out a response. “I-I think I’m fine.”
He nods curtly, those strict green eyes boring into me before he says, “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay.”
I tense, but Lauren’s palm cuddles my shoulder through the flannel material. “Liv, you need to tell Officer Bellmont everything. We’re all here,” she assures.
My throat rolls as I barely grant permission with my head.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks, compassion lacing his tone. “I know this is a lot, but anything you can remember. Anything at all, Ms. Sawyer.”
I tuck a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, my gaze dipping to the white tile.
“I uh…” My eyelids spasm, fluttering in sync with my erratic heart rate.
“I thought I left my phone at the bar. I got out of my car and walked this alleyway between the two buildings.” I clasp my eyes shut, the flash of his face crashing into me like a damn Mack truck.
“A man … h-he cornered me,” I shake out over my wobbling lips.
“H-he held a knife and took me behind the dumpster.”
As soon as I annunciate the words, my hands shield my face. “Oh god,” I sigh. My paralysis dissolves, grief sinking into every pore of my body as I release a string of bated breaths.
The mattress sinks behind me as Lauren sits. She molds her chest to my back to brush her palms up and down my arms again.
“I’m very sorry this happened to you, Ms. Sawyer,” Officer Bellmont apologizes.
My fingers coil through my long locks, a blend of exhaustion and fright settling in the pit of my stomach.
“You’ve caught him, right?”
My mom asks the only question I care about the answer to.
“Yes,” Officer Bellmont admits. The pressure in my belly lifts just enough for my lungs to inflate. “He’s in custody right now with my partner.”
Lauren’s palm travels to my upper back, rubbing in a circular motion as I finally blow out a reserved breath. I’m sure he won’t be locked up permanently, but for now, I can revel in this small victory.
“Your story checks out with the man who yanked you out of that situation.” My head whips up, eyes unblinking as I hang onto Officer Bellmont’s stare.
“He was a little shaken up afterward, but more so because he wanted you to be alright. I’m just glad a favor could be returned to him after all he’s done. ”
He.
He.
“ He ,” I whisper.
He.
Officer Bellmont nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
I tentatively drag my gaze to the narrow walkway outside the cubicle, my throat bobbing before I ask, “Is he here? Can I see him?”
“No, Ms. Sawyer,” he dejects. “He wants to remain anonymous. I’m unable to give his information away.”
My eyes shoot back to Peter Bellmont’s, brows crinkling unexpectedly. But before I’m given the chance to absorb this news, my mom’s voice chimes in. “Thank you for everything, officer.”
His index finger lands on the brass metal pinned to his navy shirt. “I’m at the Newbridge Police Station if you ever need to contact me. You can be as involved or uninvolved as you want,” he offers. “I truly hope you feel better, Ms. Sawyer.”
“Thank you,” I manage weakly.
Once Bellmont disappears behind the bunched curtain, Nurse Joy replaces him.
“I just wanted to give you some pamphlets.” The folded papers are lodged between her brown fingers as she suspends them between us.
“You’ll find a list of resources and online support groups.
I know many people think it’s a waste of time, but it’s worth taking a look at. ”
“Thank you,” I say, plucking the brochures from her.
I’d definitely consider myself part of the “many people” group she’s referring to. But I’m also not one to argue when I can just chuck these in the bottom of my nightstand drawer.
What she doesn’t know won’t offend her, right?
“I also have this,” Joy adds, dangling a Ziploc bag before me.
“The paramedics made sure to hand it over to us so we could give it back to you.” I furrow my brows, cautiously extending my hand out to retrieve the plastic sack.
“They found you holding onto it. I’m assuming it’s very important to you. ”
When I examine the contents, there’s a stainless-steel ring in the shape of a pair of wings.
I squint my eyes, rotating the bag to scan the ridges of the tarnished metal jewelry. A piece of jewelry that would slip right off my finger if I were to wear it. A piece of jewelry with a masculine flair that would certainly clash with the skirts and thigh-high boots I usually wear.
This isn’t mine.
My eyes continue to trail over every contour of the wings. The coolness of the metal seeps through the plastic, coating my fingertips before another memory jolts to life. Only this time, it’s one I don’t cower from.
I remember.
Vice-like and suffocating, I gripped him like he was my lifeline.
He.
And now, this is all that’s left of him.
A scrap of metal.
My hero doesn’t have a face. My heart feels robbed and somehow lonelier. Robbed because I can’t express my sincerest gratitude, and lonelier because he doesn’t care to hear it. As much as I respect his wish, the disappointment cascades over me like a raging waterfall.
I should tell the nurse this ring isn’t mine.
I should tell her it belongs to the man who rescued me.
I should tell the truth.
I should.
But I agree to take the ring home, knowing that I need his protection more than he needs to wear this accessory. One look at it, and an ounce of my fear was lifted.
This way, he’s close by.
I need it.
I need it.