Chapter 13 Nancy
THIRTEEN
NANCY
Deep, wracking sobs hit me before I reached the ward. I followed the sound to the one room I hoped it wouldn’t be coming from.
Please, God, not her room.
But of course, it was Ginny’s room.
Broken gasps rattled through the musty morning air.
Ginny lay curled on her bed like a wounded animal, arms locked around her stomach.
Blood smeared her nightdress, slick and heavy against the sheets.
Her hair, what was left of it, clung in sticky blonde strands to her cheeks and neck, matted to the pillow, scattered in ragged clumps across the floor.
Where the hair had been hacked away, her scalp was raw, weeping red where skin had been scraped down to nothing.
I froze at the doorway, breath seizing in my chest.
‘My God…’ I whispered, breaking through my hesitation and rushing to her side. ‘What did you do?’
Ginny’s eyes lifted. All red-rimmed and shining with tears.
‘I didn’t.’ Her words came out broken and small, as though her sobs had clawed her throat raw. ‘Someone hurt me.’
I scanned the room, desperately seeking answers.
Nothing sharp was to be seen. No scissors, no knives, nothing that could show it to be self-inflicted.
The shadows lay empty, the other patients having given the injured woman a wide berth.
Ginny lay alone, her teeth chattering as she curled in on herself.
‘Who hurt you? Did you see them? Is there anything that could tell me who it was?’
Ginny shook her head in barely controlled jerks.
‘No. They were behind me. On top of me. I couldn’t see and I couldn’t stop them.’
‘Oh, sweet girl, I’m so sorry.’ Her trembling plight had my heart breaking for her.
‘It’s all gone. Elijah won’t love me any more.’ Ginny’s fingers scraped through the stubbled, tufted mess of her scalp. A half-wail, half-howl tore from her.
I caught her wrists and held them tight.
‘Stop hurting yourself, Ginny. It’ll be all right.’
I pulled her to my chest, pressing her wails into my shoulder to muffle them. My palm found the swell of her belly as I stilled my breath and felt for movement within.
The movement came, small but firm. A flutter of life beneath my hand.
Relief.
The sensation surged so violently that my throat choked up with it. Whatever had happened to Ginny, the baby was safe.
‘He will love you,’ I assured her. ‘You’re still beautiful. Like a perfect little doll.’
And she was.
Even with her hair shorn to messy tufts and her face streaked with tears, she remained delicate. A porcelain stray filled to bursting with life. An angel trapped in hell.
‘Even like this?’ She trembled in my arms, and the ache in her voice nearly broke me.
Attempting to comfort her, I cupped her jaw and tipped her face upward.
Ginny’s skin was warm and damp under my fingertips.
We remained there for countless heartbeats until she closed the space between us.
Her lips brushed mine with a tenderness that stole my breath.
It may have been wrong to allow her seeking, but I didn’t pull away.
I couldn’t.
Not at first.
It was a sweetness I hadn’t known in years. So soft. Nothing like Robert’s rough hands. Nothing like his selfish rutting. Even tainted with tears and blood, she was sweet compared to Robert’s stink of sweat and cigarettes.
I let myself sink into it, luxuriating in the slip of her warm tongue and the way she gasped.
I allowed it for one heartbeat too long.
A wave of nausea clutched me. I jerked back and glanced over my shoulder. The room and corridor beyond were thankfully empty.
‘I can’t do this,’ I breathed. Shame and heat had my pulse thudding in my chest. ‘I can’t.’
I fled like a rat scurrying from a broom, dashing into the hall and slamming the door behind me.
The peeling wall dug into my back as I pressed my hands to my face, trying to remove the memory of her touch.
But when I lowered my fingers, they grazed my lips.
Still warm.
Still tingling.
And a pang of longing flooded the space between my thighs. I tried to swallow the feelings.
It’s not about me.
It was about Ginny.
Who would do such a terrible thing to her? Who would want to hurt someone so fragile? Another patient, driven by their madness? A member of staff toying with the helpless? It wouldn’t be the first time.
It wasn’t unheard of in Wellard for patients to break over time. Both physically and mentally. The crimes against them laughed off. Their injuries were ignored.
Losing a little hair was nothing compared to the states I’d found others in. Even with the cuts and grazes, she’d gotten off lightly. For now.
And yet, Ginny’s sobs echoed in my skull. Her tender touch and sweet words. The swell of her stomach and her taste on my lips.
Sweet Ginny.
I closed my eyes so tight that stars blossomed behind them.
I would protect her.
Somehow.