Chapter 28 I Got Away
Five minutes later, the police and ambulance arrived. By then the tears had slowed, leaving me shaky and hollow. The guard stayed close, giving his statement while keeping an eye on me.
The paramedics helped me into the ambulance for a check up. The guard climbed in after them, saying he would ride along so I would not be alone.
I nodded, unable to speak, my throat tight and dry.
Fear clung to me like a second skin, impossible to shake.
The ambulance ride felt unreal, like I was watching myself from somewhere outside my body. The paramedics kept asking questions, shining lights in my eyes, checking my pulse.
I answered on autopilot. My face throbbed, my head pounded, and everything felt distant, muffled.
At the hospital they moved fast.
A nurse guided me into a small exam room, helped me sit on the bed, and started checking my vitals. Another nurse gently cleaned the dried blood under my nose and along my cheek.
The doctor arrived a few minutes later.
He examined my face carefully, pressing lightly along my cheekbones and nose while shining a small light into my eyes.
“You took a hit to the head,” he said. “I want to run a CT scan to rule out any internal bleeding.”
I nodded.
“Your nose is bruised and possibly cracked,” he continued. “We’ll know more after imaging. For now try not to move it too much.”
I nodded again, my throat tight.
“We’ll take you for scans in a few minutes,” he said. “Once we have the results, we’ll talk about next steps.”
The nurse stepped out to prepare the paperwork.
I lay back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling, trying to steady my breathing.
I got away.
The words repeated in my head, steady and rhythmic, like something I needed to hold onto.
I got away.
I am here.
I am safe.
A few minutes later another nurse arrived with a wheelchair. She helped me off the bed slowly and guided me into the seat. The moment I sat down the room tilted slightly.
They wheeled me through the hallways, the lights too bright, the sounds too sharp. I kept my hands folded tightly in my lap, my fingers digging into each other as if that alone could keep me grounded.
The scans were quick. A cold room. The low hum of machines. The technician asking me to hold still.
I kept my eyes closed the entire time.
I am safe.
I am safe.
I am safe.
When they brought me back to the exam room, it felt smaller somehow. I sat on the bed, exhaustion settling into my bones, my thoughts drifting to my past life and all the ways this night could have ended differently.
Then the door burst open.
I flinched violently, my heart leaping into my throat. For a split second, terror flooded me. I thought they had come back.
Then I saw Knox.
The nurse behind him tried to stop him. “Sir, you cannot be in here. Who are you? You cannot just walk into patient rooms.”
He did not even look at her. His eyes were on me.
“Ashley,” he said, voice low and rough, and everything inside me cracked.
He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped at my bedside. His hand closed around mine, grounding me in a way nothing else had since the attack.
“Jesus… Ashley.”
New tears slipped out before I could stop them.
I hated it.
I hated how easily my emotions spilled over, how little control I had. But the moment he touched me, the moment I saw his face, everything I had been holding together started to shake.
“I am okay,” I whispered, though my voice trembled.
His jaw clenched. He lifted his free hand and brushed a thumb under my eye, careful not to touch the bruised skin.
“You are not okay. But you will be.”
I let out a shaky breath. More tears came, silent and hot. I turned my face away, embarrassed, but he gently guided me back.
“Do not hide from me,” he said softly.
I closed my eyes.
A few minutes later the doctor returned with the results.
He paused when he saw Knox and looked at me. “Are you comfortable with him staying in the room?”
I nodded.
“There’s no bleeding in your brain,” he said. “That’s the most important thing.”
Some of the tension drained from my chest.
“You do have a mild concussion,” he continued. “Your nose is bruised and likely cracked, but it’s stable. We’ll put a support bandage on it for about a week to help it heal.”
He gestured toward my eyes.
“The bruising under your eyes comes from small burst vessels. It may look worse over the next few days before it improves.”
I nodded slowly.
“You should be able to go home tonight,” he said. “But you need to rest. No strenuous activity for at least two weeks.”
He glanced between us before adding, “Someone should stay with you tonight, just in case the symptoms worsen.”
Knox’s grip on my hand tightened slightly.
“She won’t be alone.”
The doctor gave a small nod, satisfied, and finished noting something in my chart before leaving the room.
About ten minutes later, two police officers arrived to take my statement. Knox stayed beside me, his hand still wrapped around mine.
I told them everything I remembered. My voice steadied as I spoke. The officer nodded, asked a few clarifying questions, and promised they would review the security footage.
He also told me the man had been taken into custody. The other security guard who intervened had held him until officers arrived, and he was now at the station while they processed the charges.
Hearing that made something inside me loosen, just a little. I hadn’t realized how tightly I had been holding myself together until that moment.
“How did he get into my parking garage?” Knox growled. “It’s supposed to be secured. Only registered cars pass the barrier.”
The officer kept his tone calm. “We’re looking into that. We’re checking the entry logs and the camera feeds. We should know more soon.”
Knox did not look satisfied, but he did not push further. His thumb brushed slowly over my knuckles, grounding me again.
“You will need to come to the station in a few days,” the officer added. “We will need a formal statement.”
I nodded, relieved I did not have to do it tonight. My head was pounding, my face throbbing, and the thought of sitting in a police station felt impossible.
Knox looked at the officer. “I’m taking her home.”
The officer gave a short nod. “That’s fine. Just make sure she rests.”
I let out a slow breath as the weight of the day settled deep into my bones.
I was safe.
I was alive.
And Knox was here.